Their escort’s quiet question in Marcus’s ear was couched in a knowing tone of voice, and his answer was equally amused.
‘Yes. But I was usually sitting in the expensive seats.’
The champion gladiator grinned wryly.
‘Gives you a different perspective, eh?’
The Roman nodded, pointing up at the low ceiling above their heads.
‘And the noise!’
The packed stands over them were booming with a raucous cacophony, as the crowd yelled, bellowed and hooted their preferences for the fight underway before them, the massive structure seeming to shake with the reverberations. Dubnus shook his head in amazement.
‘What are they shouting?’
Velox put a finger to his ear.
‘Listen carefully and you’ll make it out.’
The big Briton tipped his head, and after a moment realised that the crowd were shouting two words in a seemingly unending chorus.
‘Black Brutus! Black Brutus! Black Brutus!’
‘Black Brutus?’
The gladiator pointed at the arena before them, indicating an iron cage large enough to hold two men at best, its door open wide in anticipation of a prisoner of some nature.
‘You see the empty cage? Those two are beast fighters. It looks like they’re playing a rather dangerous game that was only invented last year, which I suppose you might call “putting the blood-crazed man-eating cat back in his box without becoming his lunch”. Any minute now there’s going to be-’
A trapdoor within the circle of trees swung upwards, and out of the yawning gap in the fighting surface a glossy black feline monster sprang out onto the sand. Driven to fresh paroxysms of excitement by the animal’s sudden appearance, the sixty-thousand-strong crowd came to its collective feet, bellowing the same two words over and over again as the two men facing the cat eyed it unhappily over the rims of their shields. Dubnus shook his head in disbelief.
‘What the fuck sort of animal is that?’
Mortiferum shook his head in amusement at the Briton’s awed question.
‘You don’t get many leopards in Britannia then? That, my friend, is a four-legged killer of men. He’s a rarity, being black, but he’s just as deadly as his spotted brethren, if not more so. Apparently most black leopards are smaller than usual, but not only is that bastard bigger than the norm, he fights with just as much cunning as my brother Mortiferum, if not a little more viciously. Just watch what happens next …’
As he spoke, the midnight-black cat sprang forward, hooking its claws over the rim of the closer of the two shields and using its two-hundred-pound weight to drag the defence down. Finding himself face-to-face with the beast’s snarling maw, the fighter hastily released his grip on the shield’s handle and stepped back with his cudgel raised to strike, but by mischance managed to find the edge of another trapdoor with his heel, tripping backwards to land hard in the sand, the cudgel spilling uselessly from his hand as he hit the hard surface.
With a coughing growl that was audible over the crowd’s own bloodthirsty roar, the leopard pounced, springing forward again and landing on the fallen beast-fighter’s body as he struggled to rise, its head snapping forward to bury long incisors deep into his throat. As the dying man struggled ineffectually beneath his assailant’s weight, the other man stepped in, swinging his cudgel in a long arc to connect with the leopard’s hind quarters, smack of its impact raising a fresh cheer of approval from the crowd, but the cat, as if inspired by the blow’s stinging power, turned and stepped off its victim with a chunk of his windpipe visible in its mouth. Spitting out the grisly evidence of his partner’s demise, it stalked towards the remaining man with the slow self-assured pace of a killer, eying its victim for the weak spot at which it would strike.
Tossing away his shield in an abrupt movement that sent the crowd into fresh raptures, the sole remaining bestiarius took a two-handed grip of his club, rotating his wrists until the weapon’s heavy head was behind his neck, seeming to rise onto his toes as he waited for the leopard to attack. In a flurry of motion the beast pounced forward, but where it had struck the fighter’s partner on the chest, the surviving fighter swayed to one side with a dancer’s grace, snapping the club round in a vicious arc that smashed its very tip into the big cat’s head with enough force to send the beast sprawling onto the sand, its paws twitching as it clung to consciousness.
Looking at the club in his hands the bestiarius tossed it to one side, walking to where his mate’s discarded shield lay flat on the sand.
‘No!’
The bellowed command from another of the viewing positions away to their right had no apparent impact on the bestiarius, and he took up the shield, turned on the spot and walked back towards the semi-conscious animal with a purposeful stride. A dozen or so animal handlers burst from doors set in the arena’s walls, hurrying across the fighting surface with their nets and restraining poles, but it was clear to the audience that they would be too late. A barrage of catcalls and imprecations rained down on the fighter as he raised his fallen colleague’s shield as high as he could before pounding its brass-rimmed edge down onto the stunned leopard’s throat.
The big animal’s back arched convulsively as its windpipe was smashed, the bestiarius landing a second vicious blow to ensure that it would die of asphyxiation before he was wrestled away from the doomed creature with the crowd’s boos ringing around the amphitheatre. Velox shook his head as the bestiarius was dragged away kicking and shouting.
‘Let’s hope that his revenge was worth it, because he’ll be paying for it with his life. And that monster was a crowd favourite, which means that they’ll still be baying for blood when the first proper fight of the afternoon starts. I pity the poor bastards who’ve drawn that slot, because one of them’s dead for certain with the mob in that mood. Come on, let’s go and get some food.’
He led them back into the huge building’s depths, torch and lamplight swiftly replacing that provided by the windows into the arena.
‘Mind you, there’s a lesson there. Always keep your feet flat to the ground, and shuffle step, feeling the way with your toes. If you fall over in the middle of a fight like he did, then your life is likely to be equally short and unpleasant. Now, here we are.’
He led them through a doorway into a scene that resembled something from the underworld, organised chaos by torchlight as dozens of cooks worked to complete the meals that would be taken up the long staircases to feed the dignitaries perched high above them.
‘And you can fuck off as w-’ The nearest man to them stared hard at Velox for a moment before cracking a broad smile. ‘Welcome, champion! I won a gold aureus on your last fight! Here, have a pie!’
He handed the gladiator a hot piece of pastry, staring past him at the three friends. ‘I suppose you want these three feeding as well?’
Velox shrugged and smiled conspiratorially.
‘That depends on whether you want my tip for this afternoon to be supported by well-nourished fighters or not.’
‘Here!’ The cook passed them each a pie with almost indecent haste, looking over his shoulder to the other end of the kitchen where the master cook stood watching his men’s progress. ‘Now, tell me quickly and get away, before that old sod sees me feeding you!’
The champion gladiator winked, taking a mouthful of the pie.
‘Mmm. Excellent …’
The cook lifted a clenched fist with a snarl that was only partially playful.
‘You’ll get me-’
A shout from the kitchen’s far end warned them that they had been spotted.
‘Oi! Get the fuck out of my kitchen!’
The cook raised his fist in earnest this time, advancing on them with a pleading look.
‘I’m seeing them off, never fear!’
Velox took pity on him.
‘The mid-afternoon wake-up bout. Bet on the three centurions!’