The Gladiator

As they passed the Temple of Jupiter, Best and Greatest, Cato saw that it was the newest structure on the acropolis, and the least damaged. Through the columns that surrounded the building he could see sacks of grain and racks of amphorae piled high along the outer walls. The main doors were open, and more supplies were visible in the dim interior. Cato quickened his pace, caught the eye of Sempronius and nodded towards the temple.

'Enough there to feed the people for a while yet, not to mention our men.'

'I know,' Sempronius replied coolly.' Damn Glabius.'

He led them towards the administration building, where another one of Glabius's hired men stood on guard. Sempronius explained his business once again and the guard nodded and escorted them inside with a curt gesture. They passed through the main hall, which was filled with fine rugs, furniture, statuary and boxes of scrolls. The contents of Glabius's house, Cato surmised, carried up to the acropolis for safe keeping until the crisis was over. On the far side, a door gave out on to a small colonnaded courtyard. A staircase on the far side climbed up to a second level of rooms, built directly on top of the wall. The guard led them up the stairs and along a narrow corridor until they reached a do or at the end. He stopped and rapped on the frame.

'Come!' called a high-pitched voice from inside, and the guard lifted the latch and swung the door open before stepping aside to let Sempronius and his men pass. The room was long and narrow, with windows along one side giving fine views out over the city. Smaller windows, high up on the opposite wall, allowed the afternoon sunlight to fill the room with an amber hue. Glabius sat behind a desk beside one of the windows. A pile of waxed tablets lay before him, with one open on the desk. As they entered, he hurriedly made a final mark in the wax and closed the tablet.

As he strode across the room, Macro studied the man they had come to see. Marcus Glabius was short, a head shorter than even Macro, and heavily covered with fat and flesh that made his cheeks pendulous and quivery. Although his wrinkled face indicated advanced years, Macro was surprised to see that Glabius had fine curly black hair, and then realised that the tax collector was wearing a wig. He wore a silk tunic and soft doeskin boots that laced up to just below his knees. He struggled to his feet and bowed towards his guests.

'Welcome, Senator.' He glanced shrewdly at Macro. Cato had manoeuvred himself to stand behind Sempronius's shoulder. 'I had not expected you to bring company. Witnesses to our discussion, perhaps?'

'These men are my secretaries, not witnesses,' Sempronius replied coldly. 'They are here to take notes.'

'Both of them? Surely one would suffice?'

'For a lesser official, perhaps,' Sempronius countered. 'But as a senator, and as acting governor of the province, it is for me to choose how many men I need.'

'Acting governor?' Glabius smiled. 'You have no right to that title, alas. My poor friend Hirtius made that quite clear in his last hours.'

'Nevertheless, I have assumed the governorship, and have written to Rome to seek confirmation.'

A quick frown flitted across Glabius's features, before he smiled again.' How strange. I have written to my good friend the imperial secretary, Narcissus, to ask for confirmation of my own claim to the post. Ah well, we shall soon see who Rome acknowledges. Anyway, I believe you are here to request rations for your men.'

Macro knelt down and opened his bag. With one hand he began to rummage through the contents, while the other stole slowly round, behind his back. The senator cleared his throat and answered the tax collector clearly.

'No.' Sempronius shook his head.' Not this time. I have finished with requests, Glabius. Nor will I condone any more payments, at your profiteering rates, for the rancid stocks that you supply to my men. I have come here to demand that you surrender control of the supplies gathered here. Furthermore, I want you, your friends and your hired thugs to quit the acropolis immediately.'

For an instant, Glabius's eyes widened with a stab of anxiety. 'Sadly, I am unable to comply with your wishes.' He stepped out from behind his desk so that he had a clear line to the door at the end of the room.' Now, if you don't mind, I think I might need a few, er, witnesses of my own in here.'

He opened his mouth to draw a deep breath and call for his guards as Sempronius turned to Macro and nodded.' Now '

Macro surged to his feet, dagger in hand, and hurled himself at Glabius, knocking him back against the wall and driving the breath out of him in an explosive gasp of pain. Before the tax collector could react, Macro spun him round, grabbed him under the jaw with his left hand and thrust the edge of the dagger against his throat.

'Don't move a muscle,' he hissed in Glabius's ear.' The blade's sharp, and will cut through your throat at the slightest pressure.'