The Gladiator

'Centurion Micon, sir. Second squadron, Second Batavian Mounted Cohort.'

'Well, Centurion Micon, it appears that there is no Second Batavian Mounted Cohort any more. Therefore it has no need of a centurion.' Ajax swiftly pulled out a dagger and grabbed Micon by the harness that covered his chainmail vest, and which marked him out as an officer. Three medallions were attached to the harness: campaign awards. Ajax slipped the blade under the leather shoulder strap of the harness, smiling as the Roman flinched, and cut the strap with a quick jerk. He cut the other shoulder strap, and then the tie that bound the harness around the centurion's waist, and wrenched the harness and its medallions away from Micon. He held it up for his men to see and then contemptuously hurled it into the ravine.

There was a roar of approval from the slaves who had been watching the little drama.

'You are no longer a centurion,' Ajax sneered.' You are nothing more than the last scrap of your precious cohort.'

He turned to Chilo. 'Take your prisoners to the edge of the cliff and throw them off, one by one.'

Chilo grinned.' Yes, General! It will be my pleasure.'

'No!' one of the Batavian auxiliaries shouted. You can't! We surrendered!'

'How foolish of you,' Ajax replied coldly. 'I wonder if you would have spared me had I begged for mercy on the sands of the arena.

Chilo, get on with it.'

Chilo and two of his men grabbed the nearest auxiliary and dragged him roughly towards the edge of the cliff that dropped into the ravine. The Roman shouted and screamed for mercy, writhing in their grasp. They struggled towards the edge, and stopped a safe distance back, before holding the captive's wrists firmly. Chilo stood behind him, then, bracing his boot in the small of the auxiliary's back, thrust him forwards as his men released their grip. With a terrified scream the Batavian lurched over the edge of the cliff, arms flailing. Then he was falling in a lazy tumble as he clawed at the air.

His screams were cut off a moment later as his head struck an outcrop of rock and exploded like a watermelon. His body bounced off the cliff and fell with a heavy crunch on to the boulders at its foot. One by one his comrades suffered the same fate, as the slaves cheered each man, and jeered those who struggled most as they were led to the edge.

At last only Micon remained. He had slumped to his knees and was trembling pitifully as his captors came for him. Chilo had him dragged towards the cliff, but just before they reached the edge Ajax called out:

'Stop!'

Chilo and his men turned towards their leader with questioning expressions.

'Not him.' Ajax waved them back from the edge. 'That one lives.

Bring him here.'

The shaking Roman was thrown to the ground before the gladiator and Ajax bit back on his disgust as he stared down at the man, pathetically mumbling his thanks.

'Silence, you dog!' He kicked the Roman. 'Hear me out. I want you to go back to Gortyna, and tell your superiors — tell everyone you meet — all that you have seen here. You tell them that the slaves will be free, and that we will destroy, with sword and fire, any who come between us and freedom... Now stand up, you cowardly vermin. On your feet! Before I change my mind.'

Micon scrambled up and stood trembling before Ajax.

'Do you understand what you have to do, Roman?'

'Y-yes.

Ajax turned to Chilo. 'Find him a horse, then escort him away from here, a safe distance so our people won't be tempted to chase him down and cut his throat. Then set him free. Is that understood?'

Chilo bowed his head. 'Yes, General. As you command.'

That night fires flared into the starry sky to warm the slaves as they celebrated their victory. At the heart of the patchwork of mean shelters and tents that formed their camp was a large open space in front of the tent of Ajax and his closest companions. Scores of fire pits had been dug, and as darkness fell, mutton carcasses on spits roasted over heaps of glowing embers, filling the air with the rich aroma of cooking meat. For slaves, used to an unvaried diet of gruel and whatever small animals they might snare, this was the height of luxury. The kind of feast that their former masters enjoyed, and which they had only ever dreamed of. Wine, bread and fruit taken from the kitchens of the estates that had been sacked by the slaves were freely distributed on the orders of Ajax.