The Gladiator

The only concern that troubled his mind was the uncertainty of the future. He had not remotely considered attempting to launch a revolt when he had made his escape from the governor's palace following the earthquake. There had been only the innate desire to run, to be free, to escape from Crete and find his way to some quiet corner of the world where the stain of slavery could gradually be erased. He had been with the governor's wife when the building began to tremble, amid the grumbling roar as Poseidon brought down his wrath on the island. They were in one of the storerooms off the back of the kitchens, where she had summoned him. Antonia had been leaning against the wall, with him inside her, while her long nails and bejewelled rings had raked the flesh of his back. As the walls shook, she screamed and thrust him away, and in that moment Ajax had resolved to be free. Free of her, free of the indignity of being her sexual play thing and free of slavery. One blow to her head had knocked her cold. Lifting her fleshy body into his arms, Ajax had left the collapsing palace, fleeing from the governor's compound into the streets, no one paying any attention to a man helping a stricken woman to safety.

Once he had escaped from the city, Ajax had been tempted to finish Antonia off. To strangle her, or crush her skull with a rock.

Then, as he considered his revenge, it occurred to him that she should suffer as he had suffered. She would come to know the shame of being a slave before she was allowed to die. So, hands bound, and a leather collar and lead fixed about her neck, the fat patrician woman had been dragged along with her captor as he sought refuge in the hills behind Gortyna. Ajax was far from the only slave seeking refuge. On the first night of his new-found freedom, he came across several ragged men and women who had escaped from one of the estates. They welcomed him to their fire, shared their food and within a day looked to him as their leader. They too had wanted to kill Antonia, and Ajax had been tempted to let them, but in the end decided that she had not suffered enough just yet.

Other slaves, singly and in groups and larger bands, swelled his ranks, bringing with them a handful of other men with gladiatorial experience, even a few ex-soldiers who had fallen on bad times or been condemned to slavery. These he set to work training the slaves to fight. Initially there had been few weapons, but they had improvised by tying knives to staves, using pitchforks and scythes, and eagerly snatching up any swords and spears that they came by in the estates and villages they had started to raid.

At first Ajax was content to lead the slaves only until he had satisfied his need for revenge, and then he would carry out his original plan to leave the island and find a home far from the eyes of his former masters. But the more the escaped slaves looked to him to lead them, and the more it be came clear that they were devoted to him, the less inclined he was to desert them. There was a bond of loyalty between them, he realised and accepted. A quality that he had not experienced in the years he had been a slave.

If he could not leave them, then it was his duty to see that they were saved from being returned to the living death of their former condition. Gathering the best men around him, Ajax made each the commander of a band of slaves. They were to be responsible for showing their men how to use weapons, how to take up position in simple formations and also for organising the distribution of rations and spoils. From the outset Ajax had made it clear that any food that was captured was the property of all. He addressed the ragtag mob from the top of a broken wall and told them that he would lead any who accepted his rules. He promised them that they would have revenge on their masters, and that he would lead them to freedom.

Only a handful of bitter or timid spirits had refused his conditions and left the rebel camp. The crowd that remained clamoured to fight their former masters to the death.

The first of their fights had been against a small Roman foraging column that had ventured out from Matala. Despite the heavy losses, Ajax had been impressed by the fearlessness with which his rebels had charged the spears and shields of the Roman troops. Later their courage had been repaid with the destruction of the column that had arrogantly allowed itself to be led into an ambush. And then, only three days ago, they had achieved an even greater success. Ajax smiled. One which he would relish telling these Romans about, provided they had the guts to emerge from their defences and speak with him.

'Look there!' Kharim nodded towards the city. 'It seems that the Romans are falling for Chilo's charms.'