He turned back to his work, leaving Velox to lead them out of the workshop and back into the sunlight. Their appearance excited somewhat more comment than had been the case earlier, and a small crowd quickly gathered about them as they strode back towards the arena. Their guards pushed through the gathering throng, reinforced by a half-dozen men sent out from the Gate of Life to escort them in, and Velox grinned broadly at Marcus as they pushed and shoved their way to the gate, his previous dark mood forgotten.
‘If you’ve ever wondered what keeps men who’ve won their wooden sword coming back, other than they don’t have any other skills, this is it. They love us, these poor bastards with little else to brighten their lives, they worship us and they adore us. And soon enough they’ll be chanting your names … if you win this afternoon.’
The gate supervisor hurried up to him with a look of near-panic.
‘Thank the gods you’re back! One of the men who was scheduled to fight this afternoon has fallen down the steps and broken three fingers of his sword hand and the others aren’t here yet. Once this fight’s finished we’ve got no one else to put onto the sand, so you’ve been moved up the order. Get your lads ready to fight!’
Velox led them down into the tunnels beneath the arena floor, grinning at the cacophony that reverberated around the dark, enclosed space.
‘Just be grateful you’re not down here when the place is packed with animals. All that grunting and roaring, not to mention the stink of their shit …’
He delivered them to their holding cell with a smile of reassurance. Waiting until they were inside the iron-barred cage whose stone back wall had a succession of heavy wooden beams set into it to form a stairway, he pointed at the spot where the roughly formed stair met the cell’s stone roof.
‘When that trapdoor opens, climb the steps and you’ll find yourselves in the sunlight. Take a moment to adjust your eyes to the light before moving forward, or they’ll release the Dacians before you’ve got your bearings. The announcer will probably want to tell the story of what’s going on before you get started in any case, so just stand there looking tough until he’s finished spouting whatever nonsense they’ve made up to justify the three of you facing a bunch of barbarians. Now, when they attack you they’ll come out of the ground just like you will. Let them get out of their cell and once they’re all above ground, anything goes.’
He paused and looked at them, opening his arms wide and tilting his head with his eyebrows raised for emphasis.
‘Anything. All the rules that we follow when it’s gladiator versus gladiator? Forget them, if you ever knew them. If you wound a man and you have the time, finish him. All that stuff about stepping back and waiting for the referee to start the fight again is out of the window as well, because for one thing he’s not going to come anywhere near half a dozen blood-crazed Dacians, and for another, these men have been brought here to provide a little entertainment for the rabble as they die. So get it done anyway that works, kill them all and take the adulation of an adoring crowd. Simple, eh?’
He grinned at them again, nodding his head as he turned away.
‘I’ll drink a cup of wine with you when it’s done, eh? Just make sure you do the Dacian school proud!’
Velox strolled easily through the barely illuminated passages beneath the arena’s floor, crossing from one side of the broad oval to the other and looking briefly at each holding cell he passed until he found what he’d been looking for. The Dacian prisoners were being herded disconsolately into a cell which was the identical match for the one in which the three centurions were waiting to fight, and for a moment the gladiator stood and looked at them with appraising eyes, until with a start he realised that there were more men being driven into the cell at spear point than he had expected.
‘There should be six of them!’
The arena slave guarding the cell’s door shook his head flatly.
‘I get new order. Another three men put into fight. We only just fetch from cells in time.’
Velox looked at the Dacians for a moment longer, then turned on his heel and ran, hearing the blare of trumpets and the roar of the crowd from the arena above him as the fight in progress came to whatever end the emperor had decreed. Passing a party of arena guards escorting a pair of heavily armoured murmillos to their cell, he recognised one of them and skidded to a halt.
‘Nilo! You still owe me a favour for that tip I gave you on that net man at the last games! Lend me your spear! And you two!’ Seeing the incredulity on their faces he fished out his purse, pulling out a gold aureus and holding it up for them to see. ‘I’ll rent them! An aureus for one fight’s worth of rental! It’s not as if you need them to control this pair of amateurs.’
They dithered for a moment, looking at each other in bemusement while the murmillos bristled at being described in such harsh terms, and with a snort of impatience he tossed the coin at their feet, snatched the weapons from their unresisting fingers and ran, the wooden shafts clattering in his grasp. Skidding round the corner he saw a rectangle of golden sunlight in the holding cell’s farthest corner, and realised with dismay that the cage in which he had expected to find the three soldiers was empty.
The trapdoor had risen from its recess with a slow creak, and after a moment’s pause Horatius had led them up the steps, moving to the opening’s left as Dubnus climbed out behind him, turning to the right and leaving the way clear for Marcus. The three men stood blinking in the sunlight, momentarily stunned by the roar of fifty thousand voices beating down on them as the crowd greeted their appearance with the usual barrage of noise. The arena’s tiered seats towered over them on all sides, the waves of sound from their occupants washing down on the dazzled comrades.
‘Citizens! Citizens!’
A man was bellowing out at the crowd from a place beneath the imperial box, and the crowd swiftly fell silent, accustomed to the arena’s pre-fight ritual. When the announcer spoke again it was into a hushed silence, with only the susurrations of quiet conversation and a few coughs to distract from his portentous announcement.
‘Citizens, the Flavian Arena and the Dacian Gladiatorial School will now bring you a spectacle unlike anything you have ever seen before!’
‘Corvus!’
The Roman turned, looking about him before realising that the urgent voice addressing him was coming from beneath his feet. Peering down into the trapdoor’s black rectangle he realised that Velox was looking up at him.
‘Take these!’ Three spears clattered onto the sand at his feet. ‘You’ve been set up! There aren’t six men coming out to fight you, there are nine of them!’
He vanished into the gloom, and the trapdoor swung shut as the arena slave who had been waiting behind him pulled at the rope and dropped it back into place, leaving the arena’s surface unbroken.
‘For the first time in arena history we bring you not one, not two, but three former centurions from the imperial legions, battle-hardened veterans who have come to test themselves against whatever might be thrown against them! Behold, the finest fighting men of the finest army in the world!’
The crowd erupted in a bellow of delight, forcing the announcer to fall silent for a moment.
‘What did Velox say?’
Marcus looked at the other two men, reaching down to pick up one of the spears before answering Dubnus’s question.
‘The odds against us have been changed. There are nine prisoners waiting to be sent against us.’