The Gladiator

He winced as the surgeon pinched the open mouth of the wound together and pushed the needle through his skin, deftly pulling the thread tight before returning the needle back through the flesh in the opposite direction. The pain was hot and made every nerve in his leg shriek with agony, but he kept his jaw clamped shut and fought down the temptation to show that he was suffering. Pain was pro of of life, his first trainer had told him at the gladiator school outside Brindisium. The bearing of pain was also the measure of a man, the trainer had continued as he had walked down the line of new recruits, striking every man in the face as he passed in each direction.

Those that flinched or whimpered he struck again and again, until they collapsed on the ground, bloodied and broken. The next day he repeated the exercise, and the next, and by the end of the first ten days, they could all stand and take his blows without any expression crossing their faces.

So Ajax stood steady as a rock as the Parthian surgeon worked unhurriedly on his wound and he did not look down until at length he heard the Parthian ease himself back and stand, bloodied fingers holding the needle in one hand as he reached for a cloth from his bag with the other.

'There, it is done. I will check the wound again tonight. Try not to exert the leg too much today, or the stitches may tear.'

The gladiator offered one of his rare smiles. 'There is no need for exertion today, Kharim. The slaves have won their victory; now let us celebrate. Once we have tended to our wounded and buried our dead, we return to camp. We'll slaughter and roast a herd of goats, break open the wine and have a banquet worthy of the gods.'

'Which gods? Mine or yours?'

Ajax laughed and clapped his hand on the Parthian's shoulder.

'Neither, or both. What does it matter? As long as we are free men, who cares which gods we worship? Life is good, made sweeter still by the defeat of those bastard Romans.'

'Yes.' Kharim nodded as he wiped his hands clean on the rag and peered down at the bodies below. He was silent for a moment. 'It was a shame about the boy'

Ajax's smile faded as he recalled the youth who had led the Romans into the trap.' He knew what his fate would be. Pollio was as brave as they come.' Ajax slowly balled his hand into a fist.' He will not be forgotten. He bought us this victory with his life. I shall honour Pollio by killing more Romans.'

The Parthian glanced at him uneasily. 'Why do you hate the Romans so much?'

'Simple. They made a slave of me.'

'They are no worse than other slave owners. Yet you do not hate others as you hate Rome.'

'You are right.' Ajax smiled faintly. 'In truth, I have my own reasons for hating the empire, and a handful of Romans in particular.

But it does not matter. As long as my hatred feeds my desire for freedom, yours and that of all the slaves who follow me, then let me indulge it, eh?'

They shared a smile, and then Ajax frowned as he caught sight of a small party of escorted prisoners being led along the top of the cliff towards him. The leader of the escorts was a young man, tall and broad, and grinning as he approached his commander. Ajax main -

tained a stern expression as he folded his arms and stood, stiff-backed, as the prisoners were brought to him.

'Chilo, what is this? I gave the order that there were to be no prisoners.'

Yes, Ajax, I know. But this one,' Chilo turned and grabbed one of his prisoners by the shoulder and roughly shoved him forward so that he stumbled and nearly lost his balance, 'is a centurion. I caught him, with these others, hiding beneath a wagon at the rear of their column. They didn't put up any fight, and threw down their swords.

And there was me thinking that centurions were supposed to die rather than surrender.'

Ajax stared at the Roman officer. 'Is this true?'

The centurion lowered his eyes and nodded.

'Why? Tell me why you dishonour yourself, and these men you lead.'

'Why?' The centurion looked up nervously. 'We were beaten.

There was no point in further resistance.'

'Coward!' Ajax shouted. 'Coward! There is always a point to resistance! Always. That is why I stand here as your victor. And you bow in defeat. You are humiliated, Roman, the more so because you chose shame rather than death. A slave lives a life of shame, of obeisance, always in fear. In this he has no choice, and death is merely a release from humiliation and pain. That is the lesson I learned when Rome made me a slave.' He paused and then sneered at the centurion. 'That is why these slaves beat you, Roman. They know that liberty is the only thing worth dying for. Yet you, and these other curs, you chose to surrender your liberty rather than die. And that is why we defeated you. That is why we will defeat every Roman soldier in Crete. Because our will is stronger than yours.'

The centurion stared back, terrified by the intensity of Ajax's glare. There was a tense pause before the gladiator took a deep breath and continued. 'What is your name, Centurion?'