His friend looked hard into the Briton’s eyes.
‘And when the time comes to cut that swathe through prisoners of war who’ve been shipped back to Rome for the purposes of providing the people of the city with a spectacle? Or to kill men condemned to death in the arena?’
Dubnus shrugged.
‘I’ll put their blood on the sand without a second thought. The barbarians should have kept their heads down, and the criminals either shouldn’t have committed their crimes or shouldn’t have got caught. Perhaps I’ll get to gut the bastard who stole my purse at the baths.’
Marcus smiled despite himself.
‘It sounds as if you’ll fit right in. And I’ve no time to be arguing. If you’re set on this?’
His friend slapped a huge hand down onto his shoulder.
‘I’m set, brother. Now let’s get out of here before we’re missed. You know that Julius would have us both chained up if he even suspected you might be stupid enough to go after this Death Bringer.’
Marcus shooed the dog back into the house and closed the door, taking a deep breath as he turned away. Dubnus stepped in close, putting his mouth close to the Roman’s ear.
‘You can still change your mind, Marcus. You’ve taken more revenge for your family than even I ever dreamed might be possible, and all three of the men you’ve killed in return for your own loss have died in agony and humiliation. You have a beautiful wife and child who will miss you every day for the rest of their lives. Is one more death worth that much to you?’
The Roman shook his head.
‘No. How could it be? But to the shades of my family, with only me to deliver the vengeance that they crave? That’s a different question to the one you’re asking. Come on, before my nerve fails me.’
They walked up the hill together in silence, Dubnus swearing under his breath as he stepped in the contents of a toilet bucket that had been tossed out into the street from a high window.
‘So what happens when we get there?’
‘You’re asking the wrong man. All I know is that the Dacian Ludus considers applications from potential candidates in the early morning of each working day. What form that trial takes, or what happens thereafter, I have no idea, other than being made to swear an oath that will reduce us to the status of slaves. Worse than slaves. After that they’ll give us whatever training we need to make us fit to fight in that …’
They had reached the hill’s shallow crest, and stood for a moment to stare out across the pink-tinged city to where the massive bulk of the Flavian Arena dwarfed the buildings around it, even taller than the towering Claudian aqueduct to its south.
‘It holds fifty thousand people on a games day, all baying for blood. Facing that will be a little different to taking on the barbarians, eh?’
Dubnus snorted.
‘The only difference will be that in there I’ll only have to kill one or two men to survive.’
The two men walked down the Aventine’s northern slope with the first hesitant bird calls echoing off the walls around them.
‘We’re sure that this man Mortiferum still lives in the ludus? It’d be a pity to give up your freedom and condemn us both to a lifetime of fighting only to discover that he’s packed it in and gone to live with some floozy.’
Marcus shook his head.
‘It’s not allowed. No matter how exalted a gladiator becomes, until he’s freed or buys himself out of his contract, he belongs to the school that pays and feeds him. Besides, why would he want to give up such cosy protection? I doubt he lacks anything …’
Staying in the deeper shadows as much as they could, the two men were soon walking past the eastern end of the Circus Maximus, the racecourse’s long run of grandstands stretching away to their left into the dawn gloom. Beyond the tiered ranks of seats rose the looming bulk of the Palatine Hill, crowned by the imperial palaces where Marcus had so recently witnessed the death of the man responsible for his father’s murder. Dubnus raised a hand, pointing at a sudden flurry of activity in their path.
‘Looks like some poor bastard’s fallen foul of thieves.’
A hundred paces or so further on, in the light of the torches which illuminated the eastern end of the Palatine Hill, a single man stood in the middle of a group of half a dozen figures, a tight knot of men who were hemming their victim in ever closer and allowing him no chance of escape. As the two friends watched, still advancing unnoticed, the scene exploded into sudden violence, as the gang’s intended victim decided that attack was his best form of defence, screaming what sounded like a military battle cry as he sprang forward.
‘Gemina!’
Lunging at the closest of his would-be assailants, he snatched at the man’s arm, neutralising the threat of the blade gleaming dully in the hand at its end, twisting the arm and tearing the ligaments that secured it to his assailant’s shoulder.
With a piercing shriek the stricken robber fell to the ground with his arm flopping, writhing in agony with the pain so unexpectedly visited upon him. The men gathering about their intended victim paused in their advance, their apparent leader brandishing his knife in fury, his words clear in the silent street.
‘You’ve fucking maimed him, you cunt! We was just going to rob you, but now you’re going to die slowly with your guts wrapped round your neck. We’re going to-’
Dubnus coughed ostentatiously, and the nearest of the robbers turned to find the big man standing less than a dozen paces from them. The gang leader stared incredulously at him for a moment before speaking.
‘Who the fuck are you?’
The Briton stepped forward another pace, his big hands hanging easily at his sides.
‘A soldier, friend. And this morning, it has to be said, a very generous soldier, because right now I’m willing to allow you to walk away from here with nothing worse than one maimed man. Raise a finger against me and you’ll all end your days begging for bread because you’ll be fit for nothing else.’
‘Take him!’
If the other gang members heard the shouted command they certainly didn’t spring to obey it, and Dubnus raised an amused eyebrow at the furious robber.
‘See, here’s the thing. You’ve already picked on the wrong man once this morning, and lost one of your number with an injury that’ll never heal, not that you’ll be feeding him, will you? And there are only six of you now.’
‘Six against two. We’ll take you down easily enough!’
Marcus stepped out of the shadows of the towering Claudian aqueduct behind the gang leader, having quietly paced around them while everyone’s attention was locked on Dubnus. He spoke, his voice hard as he stared at the men before him in disgust.
‘Six against three. And from the look of it any of us could deal with a pair of you in the time it would take me to scrape a piece of shit off my shoe.’ He took a step closer, his eyes roaming across the closest of the robbers, and more than one man took an involuntary pace backwards at the look of hatred that he was playing across their wavering ranks. ‘Run now, or you’ll have to drag yourselves away with your elbows by the time we’re done with you.’
For a moment it looked as if the robbers might still put up a fight, but Dubnus settled the matter by stamping forward with a roar of anger, and in an instant their resolve disintegrated into a panic-stricken rout. Their intended victim looked about him for a moment with the expression of a man who had been cheated of something before turning to the Tungrians with a rueful smile.
‘It seems I owe you my life, gentlemen. I doubt that I could have seen them all off …’
Dubnus laughed, holding out a meaty hand in greeting.
‘You looked sharp enough to have made them work for it alright. Legion man, are you?’
The other man tilted his head, his eyes narrowing.