‘They already have. He’s to be flung from the Tarpeian Rock tomorrow. It seems both the imperial secretary and his aide are keen to kill anyone who carries the Valerius name.’
Pavo considered. ‘You said you would help me. How?’
Lanatus smiled slightly. ‘Your son is at the imperial palace. How else do you think I discovered this locket?’
Hope and fear pounded inside Pavo’s skull. He wanted to believe there was a chance to save Appius. He narrowed his gaze at the senator. The elderly man’s eyes glinted as he went on.
‘I’ve befriended one of the household slaves at the palace, an interesting young chap by the name of Quintus Licinius Cato. I’m a frequent visitor to the palace, and I had heard that young Cato was fond of poetry. I dabble in verse myself, so today I stopped by and offered to lend Cato a few scrolls from my collection. Some Catullus, and a few lines of Propertius.’
‘What does this have to do with Appius?’
The elderly senator lowered his voice. ‘Appius was there, Pavo. He’s still under the care of the imperial slaves. I saw your son with my own eyes. He was wearing his locket around his neck. I took it from him so I could give you proof that I am a man of my word. Cato seemed quite attached to young Appius. The poor chap was clearly upset when he informed me that Appius will no longer be with us tomorrow.’
Pavo thumped his fist into his palm. ‘Then there’s still a chance to save my son.’
Lanatus glanced over his shoulder, and when he turned back to Pavo and spoke again, it was in a barely audible whisper. ‘I have a plan. The imperial palace is almost empty while the games are being held. The Emperor, his imperial staff and freedmen are all in attendance and many of the slaves have been detailed for arena duty. All that’s left are a few household slaves and a small detachment of the Praetorian Guard.’
‘What’s the plan?’ Pavo asked rapidly, his pulse quickening, his mind racing.
‘I’ll make my way to the imperial palace during the fight tomorrow to lend Cato my poetry. I’m a familiar enough face at the palace. No one will refuse my entry. Once inside, I’ll find Appius and pass him to one of my slaves at the entrance to the kitchen, which is unguarded during the games. From there he will be spirited away.’
A thought struck Pavo. ‘Where will he go? He can’t stay in Rome. Once Claudius is dead, there’ll be reprisals against every gladiator in the land. Think of what Pallas and Murena will do if they catch Appius …’ He found it too distressing to go on. He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the thought.
‘I’ve already considered that problem,’ said Lanatus after a pause. Pavo opened his eyes and watched the senator scratch his cheek as he continued. ‘There’s a friend of yours, I believe. A heavyset chap named Manius Salvius Bucco.’
Pavo blinked in amazement. ‘Bucco was a fellow recruit during my time at the ludus in Paestum. But how did you find out about him?’
‘The network of Liberators is far more extensive than you might imagine, Pavo. A bodyguard of one of my friends used to be a gladiator at Paestum. He mentioned that you and Bucco were quite close. Apparently he had something of a gambling habit and owes you a debt.’
Pavo nodded. ‘I got him out of a tight spot with a creditor.’
Lanatus smiled weakly. ‘I sent one of my servants to Ostia to explain the situation to Bucco. He’s on his way to Rome as we speak. He has agreed to take Appius in. My slave will meet him on the road and hand Appius over as soon as Claudius falls. He’ll be in Ostia, safe and sound, before the authorities realise he’s missing. His every need will be taken care of.’
Pavo was silent. He was apprehensive about placing his trust in Lanatus. But the alternative was to submit to a gruesome death in the arena. Murena had promised him that he would perish at the games one way or another, and Pavo knew he couldn’t survive much longer.
‘How am I supposed to kill Claudius? The attendants will take away my sword as soon as the fight is over. That’s assuming I manage to survive the fight.’
‘I’ve studied the programme in detail. The victor from the group fight will be taken to the infirmary immediately after the fight to be cleaned up and made presentable to the Emperor. When you arrive, I’ll make my way down to the infirmary to offer my congratulations. Then I’ll slip you a dagger, short enough to conceal in the folds of your loincloth. When you are escorted up the steps to the imperial box, you will simply reach for the dagger and end Claudius’s evil reign.’
A cold fear worked its way through Pavo. He stared wide-eyed at Lanatus.
‘How do I escape?’
‘You don’t,’ Lanatus said simply. ‘I thought you would realise that.’
‘But the Germans will tear me to pieces!’
‘Of course,’ Lanatus responded gravely. ‘But by then it will be too late. The Emperor will already be dead.’
The gladiator felt a cold tremor on his lips. ‘I have to die to save my son?’
The senator’s eyes burned brightly. ‘Not just to save Appius, my boy. To save Rome. Think of the legacy you will leave. The Valerius name will be restored to its former glory, and you will be hailed as the Liberator who sacrificed his life in order to save Rome from ruin. Once Claudius is dead, I’ll put forward an emergency vote to return Rome to a republic. This is your chance to be a hero, Pavo!’
The young gladiator fell quiet. He was aware of an enormous weight bearing down on his shoulders, and a wave of exhaustion washed over him. Turning away from Lanatus, he rose wearily to his feet and peered out of the narrow slit in his cell wall. The view overlooked the Campus Martius, stretching south towards the city walls. He glimpsed the outlines of grandiose baths and temples in the distance, their ornate marbled facades glowing under the pale moonlight, testament to the might of imperial Rome. The carcasses of several beasts lined the side of the Flaminian Way, the creatures dumped outside the arena after each fight. Now a small crowd of gaunt men in threadbare tunics gleaned what meat they could from the little that remained.
‘Well?’ Lanatus called from the other side of the cell. ‘What’s your answer?’
Pavo sighed. He was in an impossible position. If he accepted, his chance of gaining revenge over Hermes would be gone for ever. If he rejected the senator’s offer, his son would die. At last he turned back to face Lanatus and said, ‘I’m only doing this for my son.’
‘A wise choice, my boy.’ The senator straightened up, a relieved expression on his face, a fierce fire still burning in his eyes. Almost absently, he realised he was still clutching the locket. He chucked it to Pavo. ‘Keep it. Perhaps it will bring you some luck. Now, it’s late. I suggest you get some rest ahead of the group fight. Tomorrow you will take the life of the Emperor.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The sun glowed weakly behind the clouds the next morning as Macro took up his position close to the imperial box, trying to get comfortable in his freedman’s tunic and failing. The belt fastened around his waist was too tight, and his stocky chest bulged inside his ill-fitting tunic. He cut a faintly ridiculous figure and he drew perplexed looks from the spectators seated in the nearby galleries.
‘First a bloody gladiator, now a fucking clerk,’ he muttered irritably. ‘At this rate I’ll be dressed up as a slave before the day is out.’
He shook off his anger and turned towards the arena floor. Half a dozen attendants were hurriedly raking the sand in preparation for the forthcoming bout. The galleries had gradually filled with spectators as the moment of the group fight drew closer. Now the arena heaved with the noise and bustle of a packed crowd, the smell of grilled meat wafting in from the street stalls. Macro gritted his teeth as spectators brushed past him in a mad dash for the few remaining seats.
The Praetorian at his shoulder noticed the sour look on Macro’s face and grunted. ‘Cheer up, mate. This is one of the perks of the job.’