The Gladiator

He held up a clenched fist. 'If I make my point clear.'

'Your merest threat of violence is powerfully eloquent,' Atticus replied coolly. 'You have me for now, Macro, but when I am released I will pay you back, with interest.'

'Of course. I'll look forward to it.' Macro slapped the rump of the nearest horse from the team drawing the first wagon and the animal jolted forward. The auxiliary cracked his whip and the rest of the team broke into a walk. As the wagon lurched forward, Atticus toppled backwards on to the sacks of grain piled behind the driver's bench, causing Macro to laugh.

'Bit hard on him, don't you think?' asked Cato.

'Perhaps.' Macro shrugged. 'But I'm not taking any risks, not until we have the situation in hand.'

'Who knows how long that will be?'

The column trundled round the last bend in the road, and there before them lay the ruins of Matala and the refugee camp. As the people caught sight of the loaded wagons with the wounded perched on top they began to call to their friends and family and hurried through the tents and shelters towards the road. As he watched the surge of humanity sweep across the slope, Cato glanced round at the thin screen of soldiers and cavalry.

'Decurion!' he called out to the commander of the squadron.

'Have your men close up round the wagons. Keep those people away'

'Yes, sir!'The decurion saluted and turned to pass the orders on to his men. The riders nudged their mounts in towards the side of the road so that the wagons were protected from the approaching crowd.

Cato glanced ahead. There was still half a mile to go before they reached the ramp leading up to the acropolis. The first people drew up across the road, fifty paces ahead of the front of the column.

Macro hauled himself up beside the driver of the leading wagon and cupped a hand to his mouth.

'Make way there!'

After a moment's hesitation, the townspeople shuffled aside, and stood and stared at the laden wagons with hungry eyes. More and more people arrived to swell their ranks, and inevitably the pressure from behind forced those at the front back towards the road. The driver of the first wagon instinctively allowed his horses to slow down for fear of running into the nearest civilians.

'Clear the way!' Macro shouted again.' Move back, damn you!'

As those closest struggled to do as they had been ordered, there were angry shouts from the back from those who feared they would miss out on any food that might be distributed. Macro turned to the decurion.

'Take eight of your men, and clear the road.'

'Yes, sir! You men, follow me.' The decurion dug his heels in gently and walked his horse forward, followed by his men, fanning out either side of their leader. As they closed in, Cato could see the frightened expressions of the people in the crowd as they pressed back. The fear spread through the packed ranks like wildfire and they recoiled from the horses as the decurion led his men down the road.

Macro turned to the driver and muttered, ' Keep up with them.'

With a crack of the whip the wagon lurched forward again, rumbling over the worn paving stones leading up to where the town gate had once stood. Cato, the auxiliaries and volunteers increased their pace to keep up, and to his side he saw the hostile faces in the crowd as the column passed through.

'Bloody Romans!' a man in a torn tunic shouted, and raised his fist. 'They're going to keep it all to themselves!'

His anger was taken up by others and the air was filled with jeers and shouts. A mother raised her infant up for the passing horsemen to see and cried out in a shrill voice that her baby would soon die unless he was properly fed. Cato was tempted to offer some reassurance, and promise that they would receive a fair share of the rations, but realised it would be a pointless gesture. His voice would be drowned out by the din assaulting the column on all sides, and it would only make him look weak.

Distracted by the baying of the crowd, he failed to notice Atticus edging his way along the grain sacks piled on the leading wagon.

When he came to the end of his chain, Atticus stopped and continued on his stomach until he could reach the end of the wagon.

Cato's gaze turned away from the crowd and he started as he saw Atticus lying full length.

What's he doing?' asked one of the auxiliaries marching beside Cato.

Bracing his feet, Atticus thrust his arms against the rearmost sacks of grain.

'Stop him!' Cato shouted, springing towards the wagon. But it was too late. The first of the sacks on the top of the pile tipped over the end and toppled on to the road. It landed with a soft thud and split.