The Gladiator

Ajax spent the rest of the afternoon there, sitting on a bench, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped and supporting his chin. He stared at a small shrine to a household god in the corner of the garden as he reflected on the progress of the rebellion. The idea of leading a rebellion had never occurred to him when he had taken the chance to regain his freedom after the governor's palace had collapsed. In truth he could have escaped at any time since his arrival in Crete, but the prospect of being on the run for the rest of his life, and of a terrible punishment if he was caught, had dissuaded him from such a course of action. The earthquake had changed everything. At first he had thought it would be the perfect chance to disappear, to be thought lost amongst the ruins with so many others. He had planned to change his appearance, bide his time, and find a berth on a ship leaving the island. Instead he had stepped into the role as leader of a small band of runaway slaves and almost without any kind of plan had be come the leader of an army of rebels. With this responsibility had come the opportunity to avenge himself on Rome, and Ajax now admitted he had been seduced by such a prospect. The question was, what could the rebellion realistically hope to achieve?

That arrogant aristocrat in Gortyna had refused to negotiate any agreement that resulted in the freedom of the rebels. If that could not be guaranteed, then what was the purpose of the rebellion?

Centurion Macro was right. In time, Rome would send a powerful army to crush the slaves, and the consequent retribution would be terrible indeed. With a heavy heart Ajax realised that he must lay the matter before his closest followers. If the rebellion was to achieve anything, then he had to be certain that those who looked to him for leadership clearly understood and shared his aims.

When the commanders of the war bands arrived at the farmhouse, their mood was subdued. Word of Chilo's death had swiftly gone round the rebel camps and many openly grieved for him. They filed into the garden and sat on the spare benches, or squatted on the ground in a loose semicircle in front of Ajax. Kharim and some others had brought a small brazier out from one of the farm's store sheds and lit a fire in the middle of the garden. Ajax examined the faces of his closest men by the glow of the flames. They were all hard men, from widely differing backgrounds. Some were ex-gladiators, like him, while others had been gang leaders on estate farms or on the chain gangs that loaded ships, or had worked the quarries and mines of the island. One had been a stonemason, condemned to fashion the tombs of the wealthy while looking forward to the common grave of a slave pit when his own time came.

Another had been the strong man of an entertainment party, delighting wealthy Romans with displays of his strength, little knowing that he would one day crack the skulls of their compatriots as freely as he crushed walnuts in his bare hands.

Despite the variety of their former lives, they were now united in a common cause, and all looked to Ajax to lead them to a better life.

He cleared his throat as he rose to his feet and ran a hand through his curly black hair.' My friends, today we lost a man who was as a brother to us all. Forgive me, but my heart is heavy with grief, else I would welcome you here with wine and meat, and perhaps Chilo would have a song for us.' He saw that some of the men smiled fondly at the memory. 'But Chilo is gone and I am in no mood for pleasantries. My heart is made heavier still by the need to face up to certain truths. Truths that I must share with you this night.'

He paused briefly and sighed before he spoke again.' The Romans will never give us freedom. Nor will they ever leave us in peace. That is certain.'

'Then we shall take our freedom,' the stonemason, Fuscus, growled. 'And if they object, why, then we shall just have to take their lives instead.'

There was a chorus of approval at these words and Ajax nodded.

'A fine sentiment, and one that has served us well so far, Fuscus. But I fear that we have already achieved as much as we could hope to. We have defeated the Romans in battle, we have sacked one of their cities, and the remaining Romans are bottled up behind their fortifications. We are the masters of this island. For the present. Now we must ask ourselves what is the true purpose of our rebellion.'

'You sound like a philosopher,' a voice called out, and some of the men chuckled.

Ajax forced a smile. 'I am no philosopher. I would rather act than think. Yet now is the time when we must think. We cannot avoid it any longer.'

Some of them were wearing puzzled expressions as Ajax folded his arms across his chest and continued, 'What do you want to achieve?'

There was a brief silence, then a voice called out. 'Freedom, General. That is all we have ever wanted.'

Ajax nodded. 'We have that, at the moment. But it will not last.