The Gladiator

Grain exploded across the road with a swift, soft hiss. A second sack was already falling as Cato caught up with the wagon and hauled himself up. He saw Atticus struggling to push yet more of the grain on to the road, and stamped down hard on his arm. Atticus cried out as the nailed studs bit into his flesh and snatched his other arm back to try to shift Cato's boot. Leaning down, Cato hauled the third sack back so that it was in no danger of falling. Before he could think to do anything else, there was an excited shout from the crowd and a man darted between the horses and went down on his knees to claw the grain into a fold in his tunic. At once others followed suit and the auxiliaries were shoved aside as people frantically pressed through to get at the spilled grain.

Leaning down, Cato glared into Atticus's eyes and clamped a hand round the man's throat. 'Try anything else, and I swear I will cut your throat where you lie. Understand?'

Atticus was gasping as he nodded. Cato clenched a little tighter for a moment to emphasise his threat before he released his grip and turned towards the chaotic scene behind the wagon. The vehicle was still moving forward, behind the gap cleared for it by the decurion and his men. But the desperate surge of the crowd towards the grain had split the column in two, forcing the following wagons and their escort to stop.

Cato turned to Macro and called out, ' Keep going! I'll take charge of the rest.'

As Macro nodded, Cato jumped down and drew his sword, bracing his feet to maintain his balance as he was jostled by the crowd. He forced his way through to the rear half of the column, standing stationary before the heaving mass of civilians scrabbling away at the grain.

'Auxiliaries! On me! Form a wedge!'

Cato took up position in the middle of the road, and the men of the Twelfth formed up at his back in a chevron. When he saw that the men were ready, Cato took a deep breath and called out, as loud as he could,'Shields front, present spears!'

There was a clatter as the shafts of their spears rapped against the shield rims, and an arrowhead of sharp iron points faced the crowd.

'Advance!' Cato bellowed and then called the time: ' One... two... one... two!'

The wedge tramped steadily forward and faces in the crowd began to look up in the direction of the approaching formation. Some snatched a last handful of grain and then turned to push their way to safety.

'They'll murder us!' a shrill voice cried out, and there were panicked shouts as the civilians scrambled out of the path of the oncoming soldiers. Cato called back over his shoulder,'Get the wagons moving! Don't stop for anything until we reach the acropolis.'

As the wheels rumbled into life behind him, Cato continued the advance, the boots of the auxiliaries grinding over the scattered grain. Before them an old man had slipped to the ground and was struggling to rise to his feet. One of the soldiers thrust his shield out, knocking the man on to his side. He landed heavily on his knee and then rolled into a ball, hugging the joint as he groaned in agony. The auxiliary lowered his spear tip and Cato thrust his sword out towards the man.

'No! Leave him be and step over him.'

The old man was left on the ground as the formation passed over him, and then looked up in terror as the ground trembled under the weight of the heavy wheels of the wagons. The horses stepped nimbly over the prostrate form, but the wheels were insensitive to his plight, and Cato glanced back at the sound of the thin cry of dread to see the old man wriggle to one side at the last moment. Cato continued to advance along the road as the other civilians hurried to get out of the way of the lethal spear points.

Just before the column reached the remains of the gate, a stone flew out of the crowd and clattered off the side of a cavalryman's shield. Moments later more followed, mixed with mud and turds, spattering the men around the wagons.

'Ignore them!' Cato shouted.' Keep moving!'

The rear of the column entered the town and continued along the main route, now cleared of rubble by the work gangs Macro had organised. Some members of the crowd followed them a short distance, still throwing missiles, before they gave up and backed off, shouting final insults before returning to their shelters. Macro was waiting for them on the ramp leading up to the acropolis. As Cato approached, brushing filth from his shoulder, Macro smiled ruefully.

'Like I said, we're always in the shit.'

'It wasn't pretty, but at least we got the wagons through,' said Cato.

'There's enough supplies for a few more days.'

'And then we have to go out and repeat the whole thing all over again.' Macro turned towards the first wagon and stabbed his finger at Atticus.' Nice work, mate. You almost got some of your people killed. Happy now?'

Atticus shook his head.' Not my fault.'