Simon Scarrow - Arena

His words drew a humorous grunt from Macro, who rolled his eyes at the freedman.

Murena stared intently at the soldier. ‘I know the politics of Rome hold no interest for you, Optio.’ He snorted with derision. ‘No doubt you would rather be debasing yourself with drink at one of the taverns, or perhaps satiating your Euripidean needs at a brothel.’

Macro looked puzzled. ‘Eurip-what?’

Murena smiled and shook his head. ‘Never mind. It is important for you both to understand something. The imperial secretary has advised Claudius from the day he was proclaimed Emperor. With my assistance, Pallas has guided his imperial majesty through the stormy waters of the early days of his reign. His political insight has helped to establish Claudius as the rightful heir to the purple toga.’

‘Some might say the murder of his enemies helped as well,’ Pavo noted drily.

The aide glowered at the gladiator, stung by the truth of that statement. Several months after Claudius had ascended the throne, Pavo knew, influential senators and prominent members of the imperial court were still disappearing from the streets of Rome.

‘We have served Rome well,’ Murena argued defensively. ‘Pallas has proved to be a highly valuable confidant and earned the trust of the Emperor on important matters of state. But now we find our positions of influence threatened by another freedman. He has become rather close to Claudius of late. I speak in confidence, of course.’

‘What’s his name?’ Pavo asked. ‘Perhaps I have heard of him.’

‘Narcissus.’ Murena screwed up his face, as if the name left a vile taste in his mouth.

‘So what?’ Macro offered a casual shrug. ‘One scheming freedman replaces another. What’s the big fuss? You’re all as bad as each other.’

‘Believe it or not, some of us place the needs of Rome above our own interests. While the mob is drinking itself senseless, indulging in gambling and lewd shows, men such as myself and Pallas work tirelessly to administer the Empire. If it were not for us, Rome would have gone to the dogs long ago.’

Pavo looked curiously at the aide. ‘And Narcissus is different?’

‘Narcissus has his own agenda. He sees Pallas as a threat. If he succeeds in winning the confidence of the Emperor, he will no doubt turn Claudius against us. At the very least we will be banished into exile … or worse.’

‘Perish the thought,’ Macro muttered.

Murena appeared not to hear the soldier. ‘Without us, there would be no new programme of public works, no sponsoring of the games. Narcissus is gravely mistaken if he believes we will surrender our position without a fight.’

‘What does any of this have to do with Hermes?’ Pavo asked.

The aide sighed deeply and lowered his head. ‘As you are no doubt aware, Hermes had resisted all attempts to lure him out of retirement.’ When he looked up at Pavo, his eyes betrayed a hint of fear. ‘Until Narcissus stepped in and persuaded him to return.’

Pavo raised his eyebrows. ‘How did he manage to tempt Hermes?’

‘A great big fucking pile of money probably did the trick.’ Macro sniffed.

‘Hermes has no need of coin,’ Murena countered pithily. ‘He has more money than you can possibly imagine. Before he announced his retirement, he was earning up to a hundred thousand sestertii per appearance.’

Macro puffed out his cheeks. ‘I’m clearly in the wrong business. I never knew killing scum paid so well.’ The sum dwarfed the basic legionary pay of nine hundred sestertii. As an optio, Macro earned double pay, but as a centurion he could look forward to a much bigger salary. Even so, it fell well short of the fortune commanded by the gladiator.

Murena studied him with his pale eyes. ‘Watch your tongue, Optio, or there may well be a future for you in the arena … a short future, that is.’

Macro flushed with anger. Murena smiled mockingly at him and paced up and down beside the window as he went on. ‘Pallas suspects that Narcissus has persuaded Hermes to return by some other means.’

‘But how?’ Pavo asked blearily.

‘We’re not sure.’ Murena stopped pacing the room and shrugged as he looked at the young gladiator. ‘Narcissus is a slippery customer. He has turned scheming into an art form.’

Macro raised an eyebrow sardonically. ‘Reminds me of someone, that. Can’t think who.’

Murena ignored the jibe. ‘Claudius is predictably thrilled with Narcissus. By securing the return of the Emperor’s favourite gladiator, Narcissus is one step closer to winning his trust and estranging Pallas and myself. The games are our last opportunity to undermine him.’

Pavo saw it all then. The imperial secretary’s grip on power was slipping from his tenuous grasp. Narcissus, for his part, would be unlikely to spare his rivals once he had won the Emperor’s trust. Pallas and Murena could expect exile to an impoverished province at best. If Narcissus was truly vindictive, they might be thrown to the beasts. Pavo smiled inwardly at the prospect of the freedmen suffering — as he had done ever since they had cast him into the ludus in Paestum.

‘That’s why you want to help us beat Hermes?’ Macro asked, rubbing his jaw. ‘So you can undermine this other freedman?’

‘Precisely, Optio. At the behest of Narcissus, Hermes is being publicly championed by Claudius. However, if Hermes loses, the Emperor will not be pleased. Narcissus will be held responsible — and will fall from favour.’

‘Tragic,’ Macro said. ‘But I don’t see why we should help dig you out of your hole.’

There was a calculating gleam in the aide’s eyes, like a sword tip glinting in the sun. ‘You still want your promotion to centurion, don’t you, Optio? Pallas will be in no position to successfully petition the Emperor should Pavo lose.’

Macro clenched his jaw. He missed life on the Rhine. The drills, the discipline, even the watered-down swill that passed for wine in the camps. He shrugged off all thoughts of his return to the army and frowned. ‘There’s one problem. Hermes is an absolute beast. I’ll push the lad as hard as I can, but there’s no guarantee he’ll win.’

Murena grinned. ‘Ah, but I can give you a decisive advantage in your preparations.’

‘What kind of advantage?’ Pavo asked.

Murena ignored the question and addressed Macro. ‘How is the boy faring, Optio?’

Macro sucked in a lungful of air and thought for a moment. ‘Well enough. Once he’s recovered from his last fight, I’ll put him through a rigorous workout. We’ll have him fitter than ever before. Whether that’s enough to beat Hermes, only the gods know.’

The aide stroked his chin. ‘As I thought. Well, I have good news for you both. Pallas and I have been giving the matter some thought, and we both agree that you could use a sparring partner.’

‘I selected Macro as my trainer,’ Pavo responded testily. ‘I don’t need anyone else.’

Murena smiled patiently. ‘Macro may be able to teach you the tricks of the trade, but this sparring partner is one of the best in the business.’

‘Who is he?’ Macro asked.

‘Publius Didius Ruga. He’s a retired gladiator and bodyguard to the senatorial elite. He also happens to be the only man to have faced Hermes in the arena and lived to tell the tale.’

Pavo looked bemused. ‘I wasn’t aware that anyone had survived against Hermes.’

‘Ruga competed as a gladiator during the reign of Emperor Tiberius. I understand his match against Hermes lasted so long that the Emperor gave him the thumb of mercy. His injuries were too severe to allow him to continue as a gladiator, so in an act of generosity one of the senators present appointed him as his bodyguard.’