The Gladiator

They left their escort at the city gates, and the decurion, with orders to induct Atticus into one of the infantry cohorts, marched his men away towards their camp on the far side of Gortyna. Macro and Cato dismounted and led their horses along the main street as Julia's cart followed behind. Inside the walls, makeshift tents and crude shelters filled the ruined quarters of the city. They passed several gangs of slaves at work clearing rubble and making repairs to temples and business premises. Cato noticed that the slaves were securely chained to each other and were closely watched by overseers armed with heavy clubs. The poorest dwellings of Gortyna had been left to their owners, who picked over them, still gleaning for valuables and whatever food remained that had not gone off in the hot days following the earthquake. Armed men stood outside the larger houses and storerooms surrounding the city's forum.

'Seems that Glabius is looking after his own,' Macro com men ted quietly.

'For now,' Cato replied. 'But I don't imagine Sempronius will put up with this for long.'

'Why not? The rich have always been good at looking after each other.'

'Why not?' Julia interrupted. 'Because my father is no fool, Centurion Macro. He knows that if a wedge is driven between the local people, then it can only harm efforts to rebuild the province, and help the cause of the rebel slaves. That's why not.'

Macro scratched the stubble on his chin. 'If you say so.'

'Trust me,' she continued.' He will do the right thing. He always has.'

Cato could believe it. The senator had a strong moral streak and a sense of duty to Rome that overrode any self-interest. Which was why he had never been granted any rank higher than quaestor. If he had been prepared to make and take bribes, then he would have been appointed a provincial governor years before.

They continued through the forum, where a handful of stalls had been set up by traders desperate to earn hard currency to buy food for their families. Even though it was late in the day, long past the usual time they closed up for the night, the traders were still waiting patiently for custom, though the area was almost deserted. A short distance from the forum stood the entrance to the governor's palace.

The two Roman officers and the cart were waved through, and as they entered the courtyard Cato noted that the palace was guarded by auxiliaries. There was no sign of the town guards and the private bodyguards, who had remained loyal to Glabius.

Macro called over one of the governor's household slaves. 'You, where's Senator Sempronius? "

'Over there, master.' The slave bowed his head as he pointed towards the stable courtyard.

'Take the horses,' Macro ordered, handing the reins to the slave.

Cato helped Julia down from the cart and the three of them made their way across to the entrance of the stables. There was no longer a restless crowd demanding treatment, and a calm sense of order prevailed in the buildings and store sheds on each side of the courtyard. The rooms to the right were still serving as a makeshift hospital, and Sempronius had commandeer ed those to the left for his headquarters. As Macro, Cato and Julia were shown into a tack room, the senator glanced up from the desk that had been set up by the far wall.

A pile of reports on waxed slates lay before him and he lowered the brass stylus in his hand as a broad smile creased his weary features.

Releasing her hold on Cato's hand, Julia ran across the room and embraced her father.

'Easy, my dear!' he chuckled, kissing her tenderly on the cheek.

Macro and Cato stood by the door in an awkward silence until Sempronius beckoned to them to approach. Julia straightened up and went to sit on the clerks' bench to one side of the desk.

'Good to see you again, gentlemen,' said Sempronius. 'Have a seat.

How are things at Matala, Macro?'

'Not too bad, sir. The food is being rationed and there are supplies for some days yet. The people aren't happy, but we're keeping them in line, for now ' He glanced briefly at Cato.' The chief difficulty is the slave rebellion.'

'Rebellion?' Sempronius frowned. 'I doubt a few minor skirmishes amount to a rebellion.'

'It's gone beyond a few skirmishes, sir.' Macro briefly recounted the attack on his column and the fact that the slaves were being led by the man in the leather skullcap.

'A gladiator, you say?' Sempronius mused, once Macro had finished his report.

'That's my guess, sir. If I'm right then he should be easy to identify. I'll give your clerks the details that I can recall of the man, and we'll see if anyone recognises him from the description.'

'Some one might, but what good will that do us?'

Macro was surprised. 'Well, sir, knowing your enemy is always something of a help.'

'But you said he seemed to know you already'

'That's how it looked to me. Can't say I recalled him, though. Not yet. If I can learn something about him, then perhaps I can place this man and have some idea of how much of a threat he poses.'