Pavo quickly forgot about the man as a hail of boos and jeers rained down from the crowd.
‘Die, you Thracian shit!’ a spectator taunted Macro above the din.
‘Fucking traitors!’ another screamed.
‘Shit,’ Macro grumbled. ‘Looks like Murena was right. The mob’s turned against anyone associated with Capua.’
The attendants promptly exited the arena. In their hurry to keep the games on track, they had left some of the bull’s innards on the sand, along with the lead chain that had bound the two beasts together. Pavo watched them depart. At the same time the umpire gave the signal to the animal handler positioned behind the opposite gate to release the lion from its cage. The gladiator felt his neck hairs stand on end as the Praetorians and the umpire scurried for the same exit as the arena attendants. Now Pavo was alone with Macro and the two other beast fighters. No sooner had the gate slammed shut than one of the fighters broke away from the group and ran towards the scattered weapons, stumbling along, burdened down by the heavy armour over his burly frame. Turning his head slightly, Pavo focused his gaze on the gate opposite. A cavernous roar echoed from the dark passageway beyond. Macro turned to follow the fighter, but Pavo slapped a hand around his thick wrist and held the optio back.
‘Get off me, lad! The weapons are over there, we need to grab them!’
‘Wait!’ Pavo hissed. ‘Look.’
The gladiator nodded at the lion encased in the steel cage. A moment later the animal handler slid the locking bar loose. The gate sprang open and the lion bolted out of the shadows into the arena. A roar went up in the crowd as the lion pounced on the beast fighter who had sprinted towards the weapons scattered across the opposite side of the arena from Pavo and Macro. The speed and ferocity of the attack drew a breathless cheer. Pavo stood his ground with Macro and the third fighter, his chest muscles tightening in fear as the lion pinned the fighter to the sand under its paws and started mauling his arm. The man let out a muffled howl as blood squirted out of a fresh wound and gushed over the sand. The lion yanked its head furiously from side to side, tearing at strips of flesh.
Screaming in pain, the trapped beast fighter tried prising apart the lion’s jaws in a frantic effort to pull his arm free. The lion clawed at his hand, gashing his forearm. The man immediately clasped his other hand over the wound, lowering both hands from his face. In the blink of an eye the beast lunged forward and sank its teeth into his neck. Blood flowed freely out of the wound and spilled to the ground. The beast fighter’s cries were mercifully choked off as the crowd screamed at the lion, imploring it to rip the face off its victim. Even Macro felt his iron resolve falter at the spectacle. Up in the imperial box, the Emperor jumped to his feet, clapping wildly as the lion disembowelled the fighter and began tearing at the entrails.
‘If only we could somehow get past that monster and grab the weapons,’ Macro said, staring forlornly at the swords and spears lying out of reach. ‘Then we’d soon gut it like a bloody fish.’
Pavo turned to his former mentor. ‘Macro … I mean, Hilarus,’ he corrected himself quickly, remembering that they were not alone. ‘I know how to defeat the lion. Just follow my orders.’
‘You? Order me about? Piss off! Taking your advice was what landed me in this bloody mess in the first place.’
‘My father had an estate in Antium,’ the young gladiator began.
‘This is no time for stories about your childhood, lad.’
‘Listen to me! My father used to take me game hunting. He was an enthusiastic collector of wild animals. He brought many species back from his travels. Deer, ostriches, even the odd hyena. I know how to fight these beasts. How to trap and kill them.’
Macro nodded at the lion feasting on the beast fighter’s guts. ‘In case it escaped your attention, Pavo, we’re not fighting hyenas. This is a fucking lion.’
‘The same principles apply. The only way to survive is if we work together.’
‘The Roman is right,’ the third fighter cut in. He spoke in heavily accented Latin. ‘That beast just cut Cygnus to pieces. It’ll kill us too, unless we do something.’
Pavo glanced at the third fighter. The voice sounded oddly familiar to him but he couldn’t quite place it.
‘All right, lad,’ Macro said grudgingly. ‘You’re in charge … for once. What’s the plan?’ He hated the idea of taking orders from a high-born brat. But he had no experience of killing wild beasts. He knew he had little choice but to place his faith in the young gladiator.
Pavo thought for a moment.
‘The lion is faster and stronger than us. We’ll never beat it in a straight fight. We need to lead it into a trap. I’ll distract the beast. That should give you both a chance to grab the weapons. Then I’ll lure it towards you. As soon as it’s in range, you spike it.’
Macro shook his head. ‘Sounds like an idiotic plan to me.’
‘If you’ve got a better one, feel free to share it.’
‘He knows what he’s talking about,’ the third gladiator said. ‘We should do as the Roman says.’
Pavo glanced at the third fighter. That voice again. Where had he heard it before? He dismissed the thought as the lion tossed aside what was left of the beast fighter and set its piercing gaze on the other men in the arena. Pavo crept towards the discarded metal chain, careful not to make any sudden movements that would attract the lion’s attention.
‘I don’t know what you’re doing, but for gods’ sakes make it quick, lad!’ Macro said, keeping his voice as low as possible. ‘This bastard looks hungry.’
Pavo grabbed hold of the bull innards and smeared blood over his arms and legs. The strong smell choked him. Then he heaved the chain off the sand as the lion prowled towards the fighters, flicking its eyes from one to the next, as if deciding which would provide it with the heartiest meal. Filling his lungs, Pavo shouted at the lion and whipped the end of the chain towards it. There was a dull clank as the chain struck the lion on the side of its face. The blow temporarily stunned the beast. It half turned and snarled aggressively at Pavo, lifting its muzzle to sniff the air and licking its lips at the smell of blood clinging to the gladiator. Now it turned fully from Macro and the third beast fighter, narrowing its eyes at Pavo.
‘Now!’ he shouted to the two men.
In a swift motion Macro and the third fighter sprinted around the rear of the lion and raced towards the weapons scattered at the far side of the arena. Sensing movement behind it, the lion let out a full-throated roar and swung away from Pavo and back towards Macro and the third fighter. Pavo lashed out at the beast a second time. The lion roared as it spun back around. The dark slits of its eyes narrowed with animal rage as it hunched low, its tail beating on the sand in anger. Then it burst forward at Pavo, kicking up a cloud of sand as it pounded across the arena at a frightening speed. His throat constricting with fear, Pavo cast the chain aside, turned on the spot and ran as fast as he could away from the beast. He glimpsed Macro and the third fighter drawing near to the scattered weapons.
Even though Pavo was a natural athlete, and had practised sprint sessions under Macro’s tutelage in Paestum, the body armour weighed down on him and hindered his pace, as if he was wading through mud. He could feel the ground trembling underfoot as the beast hurtled towards him. Its snorts and snarls reverberated inside his helmet. He spied Macro directly ahead of him picking up a spear and turning towards the lion. He glanced back and saw that the beast was leaping at him, its claws extended, its teeth bared.
‘Do it!’ he cried.
In the same breath he dived out of the way and Macro launched his spear at the lion. Pavo rolled on to his side as the lion gave out a deafening roar that sent fear trembling down his spine. Looking up, he saw the beast land with a dense thud directly in front of Macro. There was a hollow crack as the spear sticking out of its belly clattered against the sand and snapped in half under its collapsing weight.