Lindsey Davis - The Jupiter Myth

Petro encouraged the creature to advance on Florius. The shaggy mass, a close relation to the floor rugs Chloris strewed around her boudoir, made a short foray, grunted, then turned around and played with its chain, threatening to haul Petro off balance. Florius laughed, a loud and derisive cackle. That was a mistake. Petro muttered at the bear, which now turned and sprinted speedily towards the gangster. Petro let out more chain. Florius screamed at his bodyguard. Some of the heavies peeled off from fighting the gladiators and ran to save him. As I confronted them, I saw that the women were doing thoroughly good work, fencing with the other heavies. They did not need me. Just as well. I had my hands full as I stabbed at the gangster's supporters. One man yelled a warning. We all looked round. The bear took another run at Florius. Petro hauled back hard on its chain but it was damned fast. It had no teeth but as it swiped with a paw, now barely two strides from the gangster, it could do serious damage. Florius was hysterical with fear.

Then again the action changed. Through the western gate came the thunder of hooves. Mounted men galloped in, clearly Florius reinforcements, two and three to a horse. The numbers of gangsters rose to a dangerous high – but now there were other movements on the edge of the arena: ropes shot down from the safety palisade, with figures sliding down them fast – more armed females who had materialised from among the apparent sightseers. They shimmied down their ropes at several points, loudly whooping a challenge.

Most of the riders sped past us to the centre. Fights broke out in all directions. There were almost as many combatants now as in the best ticketed displays. I tried to assess the situation. The day might still be containable. The women had skill and determination, and for some reason the newcomers were not attacking them. Instead, they were riding in circles, harrying the foot-soldier heavies who were already here. Petronius and his long-nosed hairy ally had stopped Florius leaving; I was tackling the bodyguards closest to him, so Petro could make him a prisoner. Two events destroyed that hopeful plan. First, a lone horseman rode up behind Florius. Florius turned, hoping for rescue from the angry bear. Then he went pale. He was facing me, so I saw what had alarmed him: wide-shouldered, warty and scowling, the rider was Splice.

I began to run towards them, yelling to Petronius. Under my feet the sand was packed hard enough to run on, but it's an odd surface for those not arena-trained. Slow going. Your feet soon tire and drag. It allowed time for Splice to rein in his mount so hard it reared up right above Florius. Splice, knowing that his leader had intended to kill him with poison, obviously meant to retaliate. It explained why the new arrivals were fighting their supposed allies – we now had a gang war to contend with.

Florius scrabbled away desperately. The bear roared and came at him. This time Petronius was pulled over, though instinctively he clung on to the chain. I was trying to attack Splice, but a man on foot is no match for cavalry.

Through the open western gate then raced a new contender. This would be a big thrill for a watching crowd: a girl fighting from a light, rapid two-horse British chariot. It was Chloris. She had a driver, while she herself leaned out over the wicker side, one arm raised with her drawn sword. She went straight for Florius. Splice had to avoid the chariot. He leapt from his horse, cursing, but reached Florius, and grappled him. Torn between avoiding Splice and dodging the maddened bear's needle claws, Florius ended up with his back to Splice, who gripped him with one arm across his chest while pummelling him with his free fist. The driver wheeled the chariot around them in a tight circle, looking for a chance to get close. Then in the chaos, she made the mistake of driving too fast over the bear's chain. A wheel jerked violently and left the ground. The chariot skewed, flew up, and nearly went over. Chloris, unprepared, was flung out. She lost her sword but scrambled after it. Finding itself free, the bear leapt and clambered on to the horses. The terrified girl driver screamed and threw herself off the side, landing on Petronius and temporarily flooring him. The chariot careered on into the main fight at the centre of the arena, now looking as if the great black bear was riding in a circus act.

Apart from this mad scene, there was a sudden tense pause. Florius was being dragged backwards by Splice. Petro, Chloris and I were regrouping to tackle him.

Then the light changed. The heavens closed and it grew dark as a portent.

Dry in the mouth, I saw no way this could end well. In the eerie new half-light, fighting would be even more dangerous.

As I struggled towards Splice and Florius, Petro pounded after them too, in an easy style, on his long legs. Many a thief had been caught out and brought down, thinking Petro was putting no effort into a chase. He was gaining, but Splice was aware he had trouble. He turned, using Florius as a human shield, ready to fight Petro for possession of the gang leader.

In the main battle, heavies still appeared to be fighting each other, though some broke away from the pack to support their leader. It split the action nicely but there was still work for the girls. A hasty glance told me those honeypots were excellent. What they lacked in weight they made up in training and bladework. A stamp and a flick brought a man down before he had even started fighting them. They were not squeamish: if a slashed artery would stop an opponent, they wasted no energy with a death blow – which takes strength – but sliced into an accessible limb, then leapt away as the blood spurted.

Those I could see were methodically working through anyone who came at them.

Petro and I would have made short work of Splice, and if Florius was killed, well, no complaints. We were thwarted, however: the loose chariot swerved back at us, its horses crazed with fear of the slavering bear. Out of control, it rattled between us and our quarry. We tried leaping for the horses' heads but were knocked aside. I heard Petro curse.

'You brought the hairy boy racer!' I complained.

'I didn't know he was chariot-mad.'

Some of the bodyguards now rushed us. Not sure even if they were for Florius or Splice, I took on two of them. Without armour, this was no fun. I had put one man down before Petro joined me. Close by, Splice and Chloris were hard at it. Florius was on the ground, Splice holding him down with his foot. Other thugs were there in support. Chloris was labouring. The heavies had no scruples about attacking women. They were pressing in on Chloris; I was losing sight of her. Petro and I made a big effort, finishing off our opponents with savage sword strokes.

Chloris had no intention of letting us in on the fight against Splice. She was letting out high-pitched grunts of effort every time she struck a blow. Even that hard nut Splice looked anxious.

More thugs were arriving. The chariot veered back towards us and turned over on its axle, cutting them off. The bear sprang off, sideswiping me with a hot, heavy flank and pouncing on one of the bodyguards. I smelt its rank odours and heard a scream. The man was down. There were shouts, jeers, frantic growls.

A female voice shrieked, then I saw Splice fall. Chloris stabbed him again hard; he was done for. Miserably wriggling from under them, Florius escaped the pack and made a run for it. The heavies were fighting the bear. It was overcome by weight and numbers. They kicked and slashed at the creature, which fought back viciously. Chloris raced after Florius. Petro and I burst through the mob and took off after her.

Chloris and Florius were already halfway to the eastern gate. They attracted attention, so when Petro and I reached the centre of the arena, men ran out to intercept us. In the lead, I raised my sword and let out a tremendous shout. There were more than I could handle, but I was fighting mad.