The Gladiator

'Because I am not a soldier, nor will I ever be. Furthermore, I will protest about my treatment here through the highest channels. My father has political contacts in Rome. Once they are informed that a lowly officer has dared to pluck a free man from his home and forcibly conscript him at the point of a sword, there will be no limit to the retribution that is brought down on your head.' Pandarus was pleased with his brief monologue and offered a placating smile to Macro. 'It's not too late to put an end to this sad little drama of yours. Comedy, more like.' He turned and gestured to the line of men standing in the sun, waiting to be seen by Macro. There was a muted chorus of support. 'Let us all go, and I will do you a favour, Roman, and not report your criminal activities to your superiors in Rome.'

He drew himself up and crossed his arms as he stared down at Macro. The latter stared back for a moment and then lowered his stylus on to the wax slate with a weary sigh.

'Have you finished, Pandarus?'

'Finished?' Pandarus frowned, then be came angry. 'You don't think I'm serious, do you?'

'Oh, I'm sure you're serious; it's just that I am not inclined to take you seriously' Macro replied. 'I mean, look at you. Dressed up like a cheap tart. Is that perfume I can smell?'

'It is a male scent. An extremely expensive scent.'

'So you look like a male tart, and you smell like one. That I can forgive...just about. What I cannot forgive is that people like you think you're too good to get your hands dirty by taking up a sword and defending what's yours: this city, your family and your friends - assuming you have any. What makes you so fucking special that you should be excused from taking your place alongside the other men who are prepared to fight?'

'My father pays his taxes,' Pandarus protested.' He pays them so that his family doesn't fight, and we can leave that to little people like you.' He could not resist the sneer, yet the moment the words were spoken he realised he had made a mistake. 'What I meant to say was — '

'Shut your mouth!' Macro shouted into his face. 'You miserable little coward! You're the little people. You and all those others who have so little heart, so little courage, so little sense of honour and duty that they think that money can buy themeverything. Well, money is the least of your worries now. There's an army of slaves out there who are waiting for their moment to launch an attack on this city. Do you really think they are not going to butcher you and your family because you have connections in Rome? Fucking idiot.'

Macro shook his head in anger and exasperation. 'There is only one way we are going to survive this, and that's if every man who can fight is up there on the wall, ready to kill or be killed. Right now I could not give a toss whether you are some dandy pervert or the son of the emperor himself. You will take up a sword with the rest of the men in the line. You will be trained to fight with the auxiliaries. You will fight like a lion to keep those rebel bastards out of the city, and if need be you will die like a bloody hero, sword in hand, spitting curses into your enemy's face. Do I make myself clear?'

Macro thrust his face forward, inches from that of Pandarus, and the latter nervously backed off a step.

'I m - meant no offence.' Pandarus flapped his hands.

'Sir!' Macro shouted, hooking his booted foot behind the young man's heel and then thrusting him hard in the chest so that he stumbled back and crashed to the ground. Macro pounced on him, knee on Pandarus's chest as he snatched out his dagger and thrust the blade to within an inch of the other man's eyes. 'Last time I say it. You call me sir when you address me. Got it?'

'Yes, yes, sir!' Pandarus whimpered.

'Better!' Macro eased himself up.' Now get your kit, and report to the centurion on the drill ground with the other recruits. Get up! Get moving!'

Pandarus scrambled to his feet and scurried off towards the wagon where an optiofrom the auxiliary cohort and four of his men were busy issuing sword, helmet, armour and shield to each man sent their way. Macro turned back to the line of waiting men. Most were ordinary townspeople, but there were some better dressed amongst them. He walked down the line inspecting them, then returned to the shade of the awning.

'Is there anyone else who takes exception to fighting at my side, and the side of our heroic friend Pandarus? Well?'

The men refused to meet his glare and stood in silence. Macro nodded. 'Good.'

He turned and made his way back to his stool, then sat down at the desk and picked up his stylus.

'Next man!'

Eight days after Cato had set off for Alexandria, Macro joined Senator Sempronius and his daughter for dinner: a thin stew of pork and beans served with bread by one of the few remaining slaves of Hirtius. The rest had run off to the hills, or to swell the ranks of Ajax's rebel army.