Paul Doherty - The Song of the Gladiator

‘And what do you think?’

Claudia studied Athanasius’s clever, cynical face. Although she hadn’t liked him at first, she felt she could trust this man, who had, in his own way, an integrity, a passion for what he believed in.

‘Claudia?’ Athanasius waved a hand in front of her eyes.

‘I was thinking of passion.’ She laughed apologetically. ‘The person who killed Dionysius didn’t creep up behind him with a dagger or an axe or beat his brains out with a club. Dionysius was first stunned, then dragged into the trees, gagged, bound and tortured.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Tell me, Athanasius,’ she continued hurriedly, ‘isn’t there a torture where the prisoner is hung in chains and death is inflicted by a thousand cuts?’

‘I’ve heard of such cruelty,’ Athanasius conceded. ‘I see the path you are following. You’ve answered your own question: was Dionysius murdered to satisfy a grudge which the killer had nursed since the great persecution?’

‘It’s possible.’ Claudia got to her feet and walked away. ‘If you ever learn anything new. .’ she called out over her shoulder.

‘You’ll be the first to know,’ Athanasius sang back.

Claudia felt refreshed after her sleep and decided to walk to the villa, hoping to meet the people she had secretly listed. She found Justin resting in a colonnaded walk, his disciple beside him. They were sharing a jug of wine, drowning their sorrows. They glanced up and welcomed her.

‘I understand you did very well.’ Claudia tried to put a smile on it.

‘In which case,’ Justin slurred, ‘you are the only person here who thinks that. Athanasius confused me. I thought his speech would be about the Divine substance.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Claudia intervened, ‘though I haven’t come to discuss your opponent but Dionysius. Did you know he was going to betray you?’

Justin glanced quickly at his companion. He was going to lie, then his shoulders drooped and he nodded. Claudia thought he was upset, but when he lifted his tired face, it was hatred that blazed in his eyes. You’ve been trapped and humiliated, Claudia reflected. You are a very dangerous man.

‘Dionysius,’ Justin spat the word out, ‘was a reed bending in the wind. We had our suspicions about him. He had become silent, withdrawn.’

‘And?’ Claudia asked.

‘We’d received reports that he had been seen visiting Athanasius’s house and frequenting his lectures. So he’s not going to be missed, is he? I have nothing more to say about his death.’ Justin turned away, picking up the wine jug to refill his goblet. The disciple sniffed and looked Claudia over from head to toe.

Claudia bit back her angry retort. As she turned away, Burrus and his cohort of mercenaries turned the corner and came swaggering along the colonnade. They always reminded her of a pack of shambling bears, with their thick beards and the furred cloaks they insisted on wearing whatever the heat. Despite the Empress’s instructions, they had all been drinking. Claudia walked towards them and held her ground, blocking their path. Burrus stopped so suddenly his followers pushed and shoved into each other. They immediately ringed her. Claudia stared around; light blue eyes in scarred weathered faces gazed back. She could smell the grease and oil they rubbed on their bodies, as well as the perfume they sprinkled in a fruitless attempt to disguise it; they always reeked of the bear pit and the stable.

The Germans smiled benevolently down at her, either tapping the hilts of their swords or combing their beards and moustaches with their fingers, a common gesture whenever they were assessing the worth of a woman. Claudia smiled sweetly at them. They grunted and bowed back. They liked this little one, the Empress’s mouse. They had seen the Augusta stroke her hair, and that was good enough for them. They also knew about Murranus, and concluded that such a man must have a shield-maiden with a warrior’s heart. For her part, Claudia was not fooled by their bluster and comical ways; these men were killers, noted for their savagery and cunning. They had proved time and again how their coarse, rough appearance masked minds as sharp and keen as any sword. They also liked to help themselves to whatever was available, and this included women. They shuffled and moved around her. Claudia could see one or two trying to shelter behind the others; a rare event, because usually each warrior liked to be seen. She walked towards the two who were hiding, gesturing with her hand for the others to move aside. At first they stood their ground.

‘Please.’ Claudia smiled. They obeyed. She confronted the two she thought of as the Sulkers, who stood, hands hanging down, glancing fearfully at her from under their eyebrows. She noticed the slight bulge in both their tunics which they only drew attention to by trying to pull their cloaks over. ‘Please,’ Claudia demanded, stretching out a hand, ‘let me see what you have.’

The Sulkers shuffled their feet; Claudia snapped her fingers. The Sulkers shrugged, threw back their cloaks, and pulled up tunics to reveal hairy stomachs. Each drew out a beautiful ivory statue of the goddess Juno, dressed in the Greek fashion, standing upon a small hillock with a rose bush entwined around her ankles, in one hand a rod of lightning, in the other a cluster of grapes. Claudia balanced both figurines in her hands and stared round the group. Burrus gazed at her open-mouthed. The rest were staring up at the sky as if they were seeing it for the first time. The two Sulkers sank to their knees and put their faces in their hands, a gesture of their tribe, a plea for mercy.

‘What is this? What is this?’ The mercenaries stood aside as Gaius Tullius and a group of household officers came walking along the colonnade. They were not dressed in uniform but wore plain tunics over rather baggy breeches, sandal boots on their feet. Gaius carried a sword belt over his shoulder. The mercenaries became alarmed. There was little love between the regular army and what they scornfully termed the ‘auxiliaries’. ‘What is this?’ Gaius repeated, forcing his way through the throng, his handsome face all tense, eyes watchful.

Claudia heard the scrape of steel as his companions drew their swords. One of the mercenaries, fearful of what was to happen, went for the dagger thrust in his belt, but Gaius smacked his hand away.

‘You have no authority to draw your swords here. Claudia?’ Gaius turned and stared down at the figurines she was holding. ‘I see.’ He took one of the statues out of her hands, turned and pushed it under Burrus’s nose. ‘Shall I tell you the penalty for theft from an imperial palace? Forty-nine lashes of the whip and possible crucifixion. I want the culprits!’

‘Captain, Captain.’

Gaius turned.

‘Yes, Claudia?’

‘I think you’ve made a mistake.’ Claudia deliberately spoke slowly so the Germans would understand her and not intervene. ‘These gentlemen were on patrol in the grounds. They found these figurines peeping out from beneath a bush, picked them up and brought them to me so I could find their rightful owner.’

‘Could you show me this bush?’

‘Captain,’ Claudia fluttered her eyelids, ‘you’re not trying to say I’m a liar? After all, you have the proof. I was holding the figurines, not them. And I certainly haven’t stolen them. I can prove my movements this morning. But if. .’

‘Of course,’ Gaius replied hastily. He turned and slapped Burrus’s shoulder. ‘You are,’ he said, ‘the most fortunate of men.’ The escorts sheathed their swords, and Gaius bowed and walked away.

Once they were out of sight, the Germans crowded in round Claudia. She was squeezed and hugged, lifted up and kissed on each cheek. She felt as if she had been taken over by a very friendly family of bears. The Germans grunted with pleasure. Some were laughing quietly, trying to hide their mirth, though the tears streamed down their cheeks. Burrus grabbed her by the shoulder and led her out of the colonnade and into the shadow of some very gnarled olive trees, part of an ancient grove included in the gardens when the villa was first built. Once they were away from the public gaze, he stood, hands on Claudia’s shoulders, beaming down at her. Then he spoke rapidly in German over his shoulder. The two Sulkers came forward one at a time, and each knelt at Claudia’s feet and, taking her hands, clasped them while they recited some oath, faces all solemn, eyes gleaming.