‘He also asked me to make a request of you.’ The emphasis was accompanied by a twist of the other man’s lips and a raising of his eyebrows that left the procurator in no doubt as to the binding nature of the request. ‘Caesar was so impressed by these three men, and by Corvus in particular, that he instructed me to request a small favour of you, a chance to see them at work from a slightly closer perspective …’ He paused for a moment, and Julianus realised with a further slump what was coming. ‘A private bout, Procurator, a blood match in the privacy of your school premises. This man Corvus matched against one of your best men to provide Caesar with a more adequate display of the man’s talents.’
Julianus nodded slowly.
‘A blood match? I have just the man, Hermes, a fast and lethal fighter from-’
‘Mortiferum.’
The procurator frowned.
‘I-’
Cleander shook his head, his lips wreathed in a sardonic smile.
‘Caesar was most specific. He wishes to see this new boy’s skills tested against your deadliest fighter, and his instruction was for the match to be fought with your best. With Mortiferum.’
Julianus spread his hands.
‘Not that I have any place arguing with my Caesar …’
Cleander smiled again, but this time the expression was thinly stretched.
‘How very wise of you, Procurator.’
‘But surely Velox must be my deadliest man?’
The chamberlain shrugged.
‘Not in the emperor’s view. So, Corvus and Mortiferum, tomorrow evening.’
‘Tomorrow? Mortiferum fights a pair of fish men the day after!’
Cleander shook his head dismissively.
‘Not any more he doesn’t. That bout’s been rescheduled for next week, plenty of time for him to get over his exertions. It’s amazing how quickly these things can be resolved when an emperor’s wishes are involved, isn’t it?’
Recognising defeat, Julianus bowed again.
‘In which case I will be delighted to host Caesar in the Dacian School tomorrow evening. Please convey my delight and gratitude at having my fighters selected for such an honour.’
Scaurus stepped forwards, nodding his respect to the chamberlain.
‘With your permission, Aurelius Cleander, I’d very much like to see that fight. Might I beg the emperor’s indulgence and be allowed to attend?’
The chamberlain’s mouth twitched into a smile.
‘It seems that you will persist in this habit of putting yourself at risk by interposing yourself into situations where you really have no business. You got away with it the last time by the skin of your teeth, didn’t you?’ He raised an eyebrow at Scaurus, who acknowledged the point with a nod. ‘Indeed. How many men can say that he’s had an emperor’s knifepoint under his chin and escaped without a mark? It’s something of an exclusive club, I can assure you.’ He smirked, his expression taking on a knowing look. ‘Are you sure you want to take the same risk twice?’
‘To see my centurion fight a renowned champion gladiator? Of course …’
Cleander shrugged.
‘Very well, Tribune. After all, it is, as they say, your funeral …’
He turned away with the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, and Scaurus turned to his first spear with a slow exhalation.
‘Every time I deal with that man I have the feeling that I’m teasing a poisonous snake with a very short stick. I think perhaps it’s time to let Cotta do what he’s been suggesting ever since your centurion decided to abandon his new life and go after Mortiferum.’
Julius nodded, watching the chamberlain as he walked through the guards and back into the imperial box.
‘I’ll go with him.’
Scaurus smiled.
‘Curious, First Spear?’
Julius nodded with a snort of suppressed laughter.
‘Curious? Too bloody right I am, Tribune. Aren’t you?’
The slave girl Calistra came to Dubnus again that night, her visit lasting little longer than the first time. Again, having silenced the Briton, she worked his manhood into her, ground herself against his body until he lost the ability to hold himself back and then climbed off his body with a gentle smile.
‘That two time. One more time and thank is done.’
Gripping her hand, he restrained her flight, pulling her close to him.
‘My name is Dubnus. And I will free you Calistra. I promise.’
Her smile broadened, but her head shook emphatically.
‘You never free me. I here all my life.’
He stared up into her eyes.
‘I swear. I will free you. The next time you lie on top of me it won’t be in this place, and you’ll be free to choose whether to lie with me or seek another man. I have sworn this.’
10
The imperial chamberlain swept into the ludus’s formal reception hall the next evening at the head of a small party of two praetorian guardsmen and a single slave, looking about him at the mural-decorated walls, the intricate mosaic floor and the statues depicting gladiators in fighting poses. Julianus stood in the hall’s centre ready to greet his emperor, dressed and barbered to perfection, the other ludi’s procurators and Scaurus waiting to one side.
‘Greetings Chamberlain!’
Cleander nodded regally to Julianus’s colleagues, then smiled wryly at Scaurus.
‘I see you’ve persisted with your urge to watch your man Corvus in action, Tribune Scaurus. How fortunate that you’ll be able to witness one of the most interesting gladiatorial contests in the city for many a year.’ He looked about at the lavish decor. ‘Very nice, Julianus. Very nice indeed. You clearly believe in providing your more aristocratic clients with the feel of quality?’
Julianus nodded, gesturing at the walls with an air of self-deprecation.
‘We operate a spartan enough school, staying as close to the traditions of the founders as we can, but we do always try to make our private clients feel at home when they come here. We hope that a little luxury will differentiate our offering from that which they might experience elsewhere, and encourage them to favour us with their presence on future occasions. I presume that you’ve come in advance of the emperor?’
Cleander shook his head, waving a dismissive hand at the question.
‘Regrettably, Tettius Julianus, Caesar won’t be joining us this evening.’
‘There’s probably nothing that I can tell you about my brother that will be of very much use to you. He’s been fighting in the arena for just as long as I have, he’s every bit as good as me, and even with your obvious talents we both know that you’re not going to stand a chance of beating him. After all, you only really fight when your temper’s lit, don’t you?’
Marcus nodded, keeping his eyes averted as Velox paced across the room towards him with a knowing look to Dubnus and Horatius, who were leaning against the far wall watching the impromptu training session.
‘No, you’ll be fighting to minimise the damage he could do to you if you manage to get his back up. Fight defensively, make sure you always have a space to retreat into, and at some point be prepared to take your three cuts and end the fight. Not too quickly, mind you, or Commodus might just order the pair of you to keep going until he’s satisfied that you’ve given your best. Show me your blades …’
He examined the swords, shaking his head in disgust.
‘You’re fighting the Death Bringer, and Sannitus arms you with this rubbish? Fetch my swords!’
One of the junior gladiators ran for the weapons, and while the four men waited, Velox raised the blades he’d taken from Marcus before him, their points inches from the Roman’s face.
‘Now watch carefully. My little brother may be as fast as a striking snake, but he has his habits just like the rest of us, and there are a couple of them that you’ll need to watch out for. Firstly, there’s this …’