Pavo smiled weakly. ‘If it hadn’t been for me, you’d be dead.’
‘Bollocks! I had Duras right where I wanted him.’
Pavo shrugged. ‘Well, by my reckoning we’re even now.’
Macro clasped the young gladiator’s forearm. ‘Thanks,’ he said grudgingly.
At that moment a German officer stampeded through the arena entrance, his footsteps making a dull thud on the sand. His arms were covered with blood and his chest was heaving from exertion. He paused and looked at the two slain Thracians, then paced over to Macro and Pavo.
‘You must be the lanista,’ he said in heavily accented Latin to Macro.
The optio nodded stiffly at Bato and Duras. ‘Spread the word to your men. The ringleader and his bodyguard are dead. His followers are loyal but not completely thick. Once they hear Bato has been chopped up, they’ll lay down their arms.’
The German officer chuckled. ‘There won’t be any need for that, sir. The battle is almost over. Most of the gladiators have surrendered. A handful of Bato’s fanatical supporters have retreated into the dormitory block. We’re getting ready to move in and finish the job. Orders from the imperial secretary to kill them and stick their heads on spikes. Serve as a lesson for the rest of the gladiators, sir.’
The tone of his voice implied the German was not unhappy with this turn of events.
Macro said nothing. He felt no sympathy for the few gladiators trapped inside the dormitory. They had picked their side and lost, and now they would suffer the consequences. It was the same in the field of battle, and if the tables were turned and the Thracians had triumphed, he knew they would have spared no Roman lives.
The German officer cleared his throat. ‘Murena wishes to speak with you, sir.’
The optio clenched his teeth, grunting in his chest. ‘Murena is here?’
‘He arrived with us, sir. He’s waiting in the lanista’s quarters. Wants you to report to him after you’ve cleaned up.’
‘What does he want with us now?’ Macro wondered tetchily.
The aftermath of the battle had left the ludus in tatters. Bodies were strewn everywhere, so much so that Macro imagined it might be possible to walk from one side of the training ground to the other without ever touching the ground. Grey pillars of smoke seethed out of the armoury as the roof covering that portion of the corridor threatened to collapse, groaning under the strain. The smoke smothered the sky, reducing the stars to faintly glowing orbs.
The optio and the young gladiator grabbed welcome cups of water from an orderly attending to the wounded. Casting an eye across the training ground, Macro feared it would be a long time before the ludus returned to working order. The costs involved would be enormous. The rebellious gladiators had laid waste to every symbol of their imprisonment. The training posts had been uprooted and chopped to pieces. The sundial in the middle of the ground had been smashed apart. In a fit of rage, some of the Thracians had taken to operating on the ludus physician, Kallinos, with his own set of surgical instruments. A spatula protruded from his eye. His mouth was agape, his face locked in an expression of utter terror.
Passing under the porticoes, the German officer led Macro and Pavo up the blood-splashed marble steps to the lanista’s quarters. Dread tied knots around Macro’s bowels as he spotted the aide to the imperial secretary pacing up and down the main room. The damage to the ludus was the least of his worries. The loss of so many gladiators — more than half the strength of the school — would undoubtedly prohibit their participation at the forthcoming games. Not only would that be acutely embarrassing to the Emperor, it would threaten his ability to host imperial gladiator fights at all. Macro’s impending sense of dread was heightened when he noticed Macer standing smugly next to Murena, soothing his reddened wrists. Both men looked at the imperial lanista and the young gladiator at his side.
‘What in Hades is going on here?’ Murena hissed sharply, throwing his arms in the air. ‘Even a common soldier should be able to control a few gladiators. Letting the ludus fall into the hands of the Thracians is idiocy of the highest order! What will the mob say when they hear of this?’ He fought to control the rage in his trembling voice. ‘You have truly surpassed yourself, Optio. I am of a mind to have you banished to the mines for your stupidity.’
Macro shook his head angrily and glared at Macer. ‘This isn’t my fault, sir. This coward legged it at the first sign of rebellion and left his keys behind for the Thracians to grab. That allowed Bato and his mob to unlock every cell in the dormitory. If it hadn’t been for this joke of a Praetorian, we would have contained the gladiators before Bato had a chance to increase his numbers.’
‘Liar!’ Macer’s face exploded with fury. ‘Sir, I gave the optio repeated warnings about the dire consequences of rough-handling the gladiators. But he insisted on bludgeoning the men rather than treating them with respect.’
‘Respect?’ Macro repeated incredulously. ‘They’re gladiators! Lowest of the low.’
‘Thanks,’ Pavo muttered under his breath.
‘Enough!’ Murena bawled, glaring at the commander and the optio in turn. Snapping upright, the freedman straightened his ruffled tunic and nodded at the German officer. ‘This man tells me that by burning down the armoury you helped turn the tide in our favour.’
‘It’s true,’ Pavo said.
Murena regarded the young gladiator coldly. ‘That is not how the Emperor sees it. Nor is it how Pallas and myself view your conduct. You have damaged imperial property, both of you. That is a serious offence. Were it not for the fact that you have evidently helped fend off the rebellion by dispatching the ringleader, Pallas would be ordering you both to be nailed to a cross at dawn. You should consider yourselves highly fortunate.’
‘You must be joking,’ Macro said under his breath.
‘What was that?’ Murena snapped.
‘Nothing,’ Macro replied flatly.
The aide to the imperial secretary dismissed Macer with a curt wave of his slender hand. Once the commander was out of earshot, Murena sighed heavily and wrung his trembling hands as if trying to still his temper.
‘It’s true that Macer is an incompetent fool. We removed him from the Praetorian Guard after he almost got his men killed.’
‘I knew it!’ thundered Macro.
‘Nevertheless, while he’s not absolved of blame, it’s clear that your hot-headedness has cost us dear, Optio. This rebellion leaves us critically short of gladiators for the upcoming games. With the remaining Thracians condemned inside the dormitory block, this ludus will be at half-strength. Unfortunately, that means we will have to come to some arrangement with another lanista. No doubt they will charge a high price for the use of their fighters. Not to mention the extensive repairs needed to the ludus, and the cost of replacing the dead gladiators. The Emperor is facing a bill of hundreds of thousands of sestertii.’ The aide pivoted round. A contemptuous expression was etched on his face. ‘Pallas and I agree that you must both pay for this damage.’
‘What?’ Macro blurted. ‘You can’t do that!’
‘Oh, we can, Optio. We can do whatever we please. However, since it is abundantly clear that neither of you has the means to reimburse his imperial majesty, we must find some other way of settling your debts. I will have to discuss the matter with Pallas, but news of Bato’s death has given me an idea.’ The aide paused for breath. ‘You will take the place of the Thracian at the games.’
Macro gaped at him disbelievingly.
Murena smiled coldly. ‘You killed a man who was a central part of the entertainment at the games. I think it only appropriate that you take his place.’ The aide flashed a scornful glance at Pavo. ‘It was one of the most lucrative fights planned.’
Macro looked apoplectic with rage. ‘Fight as a gladiator? Me?’ He could think of no more shameful fate. He’d only ever heard of drunken former legionaries daring to debase themselves by fighting as gladiators. ‘But … we saved your bloody ludus!’