The Gladiator

Suddenly Julia's spare hand rose up. There was a glimmer of metal in her grip and she stabbed down into Ajax's shoulder. He recoiled with a bellow of surprise, pain and rage, glancing at the comb sticking out of his shoulder. Instinctively he reached for the wound with his other hand, releasing Julia. At once she threw herself over the stern rail, tumbling down into the sea with a splash. The liburnian was already gathering speed, and as Julia's head emerged above the water, gasping, the gap between her and the stern of the warship quickly grew. Cato had hurriedly taken up his oars again and was speeding the little craft across the water towards her as she struck out towards them with frantic splashing strokes.

Ajax had pulled the bloodied comb out and stood glaring down into the sea. There was nothing he could do to prevent her escape.

By the time he could turn the warship round and head back towards the beach, the little boat would have reached the shore again and his enemies would have escaped on the horses still on the beach. Besides, one of the Roman triremes was already heading back down the bay to come to the assistance of the liburnian that had run aground.

As the boat approached Julia, Macro scrambled to the bows, leaning over to reach out for her. Julia grabbed his wrist, and he hauled her closer before stretching out his spare hand to lift her under the shoulder.

'Up you come, miss!' he grunted as he pulled her over the side.

'I've got her, Cato. Turn us round and get back to the shore, quick as you can.'

Cato worked the small craft round and started for the shore, expecting the warship to turn back towards them at any moment.

But the liburnian headed steadily towards the mouth of the bay. The oars dipped and thrust through the sea at a regular pace as it drew swiftly away from the small boat. Ajax remained at the stern rail for a while, before he turned and disappeared from sight.

'We're safe,' Macro said in relief.

Cato lowered his oars and turned to embrace Julia as she stumbled towards the centre of the boat and fell into his arms. For a while all was still on the little craft. Cato held her tight, pressing his cheek to the top of her head as he breathed deeply. Macro turned away and stared after the liburnian as it disappeared around the small island at the end of the rocky peninsula and headed out to sea.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Three days later, Sempronius surveyed the remains of the rebel camp as he and his escort rode down to the beach where the remaining ships were undergoing repairs. The rest of the grain fleet had set sail the previous day, making directly for Rome, where the cargo should arrive in time to stave off any hunger and prevent the mob from having an excuse to riot. Despite his relief and joy that his daughter had been rescued, Sempronius's mood was soured by the inevitable aftermath of such a serious revolt on the island.

The senator had little doubt that there would be small reward forthcoming from the emperor for saving the grain fleet, and consequently keeping the peace on the streets of Rome. Four of the ships had been lost in the attack, and the officials in charge of the imperial granary would inevitably lodge a complaint against those they held responsible for the recovery of the fleet. Some kind of official reprimand was inevitable. Sempronius sighed. Sometimes being in the service of Rome was a thankless task, and he had to draw satisfaction from the knowledge that he had served his Emperor as best he could, despite losing four of the ships.

The loss of the grain was least of it, he reflected. It would be years before the province of Crete recovered from the earthquake and the slave revolt that had followed it. Although the revolt was over, there were still some unsavoury matters to deal with. Centurion Fulvius and his men had shown no mercy to the rebels and the bodies were still being buried in great pits dug into the rocky soil around the bay.

Thousands of them, men, women and children. The survivors had been sent back to Gortyna in long chain gangs under the guard of the hard-hearted men of the legions, who would show no pity to those who straggled or fell by the side of the road. Sempronius had passed them on his way to Olous: lines of captives with bleak expressions now that they had been returned to slavery after a brief taste of freedom. They were destined to be held in a special camp outside the city until their owners could be identified and informed. If the owners were dead then they would be come the property of the emperor and auctioned off. The sums raised, minus the hefty commission due to the auctioneer, would be forwarded to the imperial treasury in Rome. Sempronius smiled bitterly at the thought that at least some one in Rome would profit as a consequence of the revolt.