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Simon Scarrow

Gladiator: Vengeance

1

‘Ready?’ asked Festus.

Marcus nodded and then glanced round the marketplace of Chalcis, a small port on the coast of the Gulf of Corinth. Below the market the ground sloped down to the sea, brilliant blue beneath the clear sky and the glare of early afternoon sun. They had reached the town after a morning’s walk along the coastal road, then stopped for a simple meal of stew in a chop house to one side of the market. A fair-sized crowd was still milling around the stalls and the usual gangs of youths clustered about the fountain, presenting easy pickings to Marcus’s practised eye.

‘Do we have to do this?’ asked Lupus, the boy sitting next to Marcus. He was seventeen, four years older than Marcus, but they often passed for the same age. Whereas Lupus was short and thin, Marcus was tall for his years. The hard training he had endured at a gladiator school, and later in the charge of Festus when they had both served Julius Caesar in Rome, had given him a muscular physique.

Festus turned to Lupus with a weary sigh. ‘You know we do. The money Caesar gave us will not last forever. Better that we make it stretch by earning whatever we can along the way. Who knows how long it will take to find out where Marcus’s mother is being held prisoner. ’

Marcus felt a stab of pain in his heart. It had been over two years since he last saw her, when they were torn apart following the murder of Titus, the man Marcus had thought was his father. They had lived happily, on a farm on the island of Leucas, until the day when Titus could not repay a moneylender. A ruthless gang of men had come to seize the family and sell them into slavery to pay off Titus’s debt. The old soldier had tried to resist but was killed, along with Marcus’s dog, Cerberus, and Livia and Marcus were condemned to slavery.

At first it had seemed an impossible task, but, after saving Caesar’s life, the great Roman statesman had given him a small sum of silver and a letter of introduction, together with the services of Festus, Caesar’s most trusted bodyguard, and Lupus, and set him free to save his mother. They had sailed to Greece with two other men, both sent back to Rome by Festus when it became clear that Caesar’s money would run out far too quickly with more mouths to feed.

After landing in Greece, the three of them took the coast road along the north of the Gulf as they made for Stratos, where Marcus had first encountered Decimus, the moneylender who had caused him so much grief and suffering. Along the route they had paid their way by putting on a small performance in the towns and ports they passed through.

Festus pushed his empty bowl away and stood up, stretching his shoulders and neck. ‘On your feet, lads. It’s time for the show. ’

Marcus and Lupus rose from the bench and picked up their bags. They contained a few spare clothes and a handful of personal belongings — writing materials in the case of Lupus, and an assortment of weapons for Marcus and Festus. Festus dipped into his purse and tossed a few bronze asses on the table to cover the cost of their meal, then gestured for the two boys to follow him. They emerged from the inn’s weathered canopy into the glare of the sun and made their way across the square to the fountain. It was late April and the mountain streams were full so there was still sufficient flow from the water piped into the port to feed the fountain. A steady rush overflowed the central cupola and splashed down into the round basin beneath, cooling the air immediately around the fountain. Which is why it was the favourite haunt of the gangs of youths, and the toughs who hired their services out to landlords and moneylenders. Just the kind of people Festus was looking for.