Simon Scarrow - Arena

‘Why would Ruga agree to help us?’ Macro cocked his head to the aide.

‘Ruga never recovered from the shame of his defeat by Hermes. He claimed the contest was rigged in Hermes’s favour. He burns with hatred towards Hermes almost as much as our young gladiator does.’ The aide paused and smiled slyly. ‘There is also the small matter of the fact that Ruga was recently relieved of his duties by the senator.’

‘Relieved?’ Macro repeated with a frown.

‘Ruga is a drunk, Optio. I believe he started drinking heavily after his defeat by Hermes, to numb the almost constant pain he is in. I have spoken with him and promised to solicit the senator in question to help him get his old job back — on condition that he trains you.’

Macro nodded at the news. Although he was skilled with a sword and could impart general combat strategies to Pavo, as a soldier he knew better than anyone that the best way to prepare for battle was to gain inside knowledge of the enemy. A gladiator who had come close to defeating Hermes sounded like the ideal sparring partner.

Murena turned his gaze on Pavo and cleared his throat.

‘In the meantime, you will continue your training somewhere else.’

‘Why?’ Pavo asked.

‘I have no wish for a repeat of your fracas with Hermes outside the Circus Maximus. Besides, the lanista is a close acquaintance of Narcissus and it’s possible he might try to sabotage your training schedule. I have rented a room for you, Macro, in a tenement block on the Aventine Hill, next to the Drunken Goat tavern. There is a courtyard at the back. You and Ruga will train Pavo there.’ A wicked smile crossed his lips as he flicked his gaze over to Macro. ‘The streets are filled with drunks and degenerates. I’m sure you will feel at home.’

Macro bit back on his anger as Pavo responded to the aide. ‘The Emperor has agreed to release me from the ludus?’ he asked, his voice fragile with hope at the prospect of escaping the confines of his rat-infested cell.

‘Under certain conditions. Pallas has convinced his imperial majesty that a death threat has been made against you by one of the other gladiators. Macro will escort you back to the ludus each evening. Try to escape and your son dies.’

Pavo grimly resigned himself to the prospect of having to remain in his cell at night. He went quiet as Macro scratched his chin and frowned. ‘What about training equipment?’

The aide pursed his lips. ‘I have sourced a few training swords and shields from the Praetorian Guard barracks, along with some weights. But by and large you will have to make do.’

‘Great,’ Macro grumbled. ‘So while Hermes gets to hone his strength at the imperial ludus, we’ll be slumming it in a courtyard, using whatever leftover equipment you can lay your bloody hands on.’

‘You will have to improvise,’ Murena responded haughtily. ‘Isn’t that what you soldiers are supposed to do best?’

Macro gritted his teeth, a dark expression clouding his grizzled features.

‘There is, ah, one more problem.’ Murena hesitated. ‘I’m afraid the fight is going to be brought forward.’

Pavo and Macro swapped a look.

‘How far forward exactly?’ Macro asked.

‘To next month, Optio. Starting today, you will have thirty days to prepare.’

Macro sucked the air between his teeth. At his side, Pavo’s face turned pale, his shoulders sagging with despair.

‘That’s not enough time,’ Macro said. ‘In four weeks I’ll have put some muscle on the lad, but that’s your lot. We won’t have had a chance to properly study Hermes and prepare against him.’

‘There’s nothing to be done,’ Murena replied harshly. ‘Claudius has decided to undertake a tour of the public works being built around the Empire the following month. The decision is out of my hands. You will have to cope as best you can.’

Macro managed to bite his tongue. In recent months he’d made a concerted effort to keep his temper in check, knowing that it had cost him promotion in the past. But being back in Rome and doing the bidding of the imperial freedmen was sorely testing his patience. More than ever, he desired to leave the city. He made a solemn promise to himself never to return.

‘Even Britannia has got to be safer than this snakepit,’ he growled under his breath.

Murena appeared not to hear him. ‘Any questions? Good. Then I suggest you go and meet Ruga. He’s waiting for you at the courtyard. I have already provided Cornicen with the necessary authorisation for your temporary removal from the ludus. He seems rather glad to see the back of you, Pavo.’

The optio straightened his back. Both he and Pavo turned to leave. Murena raised a hand, gesturing for them to halt. He stared at the soldier. ‘I hope I do not need to warn you of the dire consequences of failure.’

Macro snorted. ‘That old trick won’t work. You just said that Pallas will be stripped of his authority if Hermes is the victor. Without your power, you’re just a couple of spindly Greeks making empty threats.’

‘But we still know your secret. After all, who could forget your appearance in the arena? And we will not hesitate to share it with Vespasian should you let us down.’

A hot rage swirled inside Macro. He clenched his hands into fists, the indignity of appearing in the beast fight burning like a hot coal in his chest. He stared at Murena. The aide nodded at the door.

‘You may wait for Pavo at the main gates. I have something to discuss with him … in private.’

Macro turned to Pavo in surprise. The latter merely shrugged at his mentor, a blank look on his face. Shaking his head, Macro marched out of the office, taking one last glance at the aide before he closed the door. Murena sighed.

‘Now that we are alone, I have something I would like to show you.’

‘Appius?’ Pavo asked hopefully. ‘Do I get to see him at last?’

Murena answered with a note of pity. ‘Not yet, young man. Claudius promised to spare your son a gruesome death. He said nothing of releasing him from custody. However, should you defeat Hermes, I can personally assure you that Appius will be freed.’ There was a feverish glow to his eyes as he went on. ‘What I am going to show you will give you, shall we say, a little extra motivation for your fight. Follow me.’

Pavo frowned suspiciously as Murena paced round the desk and led him out into the corridor. Macro had already departed for the main gates and the clerk was still busy making notes on his tablet as Pavo followed Murena down the corridor. At the end, they descended several flights of stairs until they reached a narrow passageway at the bottom. Two Praetorians guarded the entrance to the passageway, the light from oil lamps dimly illuminating their features. Murena nodded at them and the guard on the left promptly stood aside while his comrade ushered them down the passageway. It was cold and clammy and dark, and the young gladiator shivered, a sinister chill sweeping through him. They were entering the underground tunnels built beneath the foundations of the imperial palace complex, he realised. He’d heard of the existence of such tunnels, used by the Emperor and his entourage to move between the palace complex and his other estates without risk of being assassinated on the streets of Rome. Caligula had been murdered in one such tunnel by several conspirators. A sudden fear gripped Pavo. Perhaps Murena intended to kill him after all, he thought. His legs trembled as he followed the Praetorian and Murena down the tunnel. They passed several cell doors. At length the guard stopped in front of one and unlocked it.

‘Leave us,’ Murena ordered the guard.

‘What’s going on?’ Pavo asked, panic creeping into his voice as he hesitated in the doorway.