Simon Scarrow - Gladiator

There was a brief silence before one of the crew let out a low whistle. Then another man cheered, and more joined him in a ragged chorus of shouts of approval. Marcus looked round at their faces and saw the amused admiration in their expressions. Many of them were smiling at him, and he felt a surge of elation and triumph flood his heart and mind. Then he looked down at the man lying at his feet. A moment ago the sailor had been set on killing Marcus, without mercy. Marcus regarded him with a cold hatred. Then he leaned down and picked up the knife that had been tossed towards him.

For a moment he paused, not sure what to do. From somewhere inside him a dark urge to seek revenge seeped out. It was not just revenge against this sailor, but a desire for vengeance against all those who had caused Marcus to be at this point, separated from his mother, his home and the warm, loving embrace of the idyllic life he had lived on the farm. He took a sharp breath and raised the knife, ready to plunge it down into the sailor’s heart.

‘No you don’t!’ a voice growled, and a hand seized his wrist in a powerful grip. ‘Drop the knife.’

Marcus twisted round to see the captain towering over him. He tried to pull his arm free, but the man was far too strong for him. The captain let him struggle for a moment and then, with a look of contempt, he lifted Marcus off his feet so that he was dangling above the deck. He felt a burning pain in his shoulder as the joint and muscles stretched and could not help letting out a sharp cry of agony.

The captain leaned forward so that his face was close to Marcus’s. There was no pity in the man’s eyes as he growled, ‘I said, drop the knife. Last warning, boy.’

Marcus knew that his position seemed hopeless, but the captain had made a mistake lifting him off the deck. Swinging his leg back, Marcus kicked out with his boot, striking the captain’s knee. His foot connected with a solid blow and the captain winced and bent forward as he let out a groan. At once Marcus tried to pull himself free again, but the man kept his grip, even as he shut his eyes briefly to fight off the pain. When he had caught his breath and opened his eyes again, there was no mistaking the captain’s fury.

‘Little swine…’ the captain spat. ‘You’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn.’

He strode towards the side of the ship, still holding Marcus off the deck, at arm’s length.

‘You can swim the rest of the way,’ he sneered at Marcus as they reached the side-rail.

The captain lifted him up in both hands and held Marcus over the water. The boy glanced down and saw the milky blue sea churning along the side of the hull with a soft hiss. There was no sign of land anywhere and the prospect of being abandoned in the sea to die terrified Marcus. He clamped his spare hand into the folds of the captain’s tunic and clung on for his life.

‘Wait!’ a deep voice called out. ‘Captain, listen to me!’

Marcus looked over the captain’s shoulder and saw the man in the red tunic. The captain turned his head towards his passenger. ‘What? What is it?’

‘Spare the boy,’ the man said calmly. ‘You cannot leave him to drown.’

‘No?’ The captain smiled cruelly. ‘Why not? He’s a stowaway. A thief, and violent with it. I should have seen that when I first clapped eyes on him back in Dyrrhacium. Typical wharf rat. Those scum don’t deserve to live.’ He turned back towards Marcus and braced his muscles to hurl the boy out into the waves.

‘Let him live and I’ll buy him,’ the man added.

The captain paused, torn between the desire to avenge himself for the blow Marcus had inflicted on his pride and the chance to make some money. He cleared his throat. ‘How much?’

‘What’s your price?’

‘Huh?’ The captain frowned, not quite sure what to ask for. After a brief pause he edged back and dumped Marcus on the deck between himself and the man in the red tunic.

Marcus gasped with relief to feel the solid deck beneath his back. For the moment he had been spared and he felt a surge of hope as he stared up at the passenger who had offered to buy him. The man was powerfully built with neatly cut dark hair. He wore leather bracers around each of his hairy wrists. He stood with his hands on his hips and waited for the captain’s response.

‘Why do you want to buy the boy, Lucius Porcino? He’s just a little runt.’ The captain gestured towards the men in chains, sitting silently on the deck. ‘You trade in gladiators.’

The man looked down at Marcus and shrugged. ‘He shows spirit. Looks fit enough to last a few years. But I doubt he’ll ever amount to much more than a common kitchen slave. So, name your price. I’ll pay a fair sum.’

The captain’s eyes narrowed. ‘Three hundred denarii.’

‘Three hundred?’ Porcino’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘I could buy a full-grown man for that. It’ll be years before this one can earn his keep. Three hundred indeed!’ He shook his head and jerked his thumb over the side. ‘You’d better throw him in, then. I’m certainly not paying three hundred.’

He turned away and began to make his way back towards the hatch at the stern leading down to the cabins. Marcus stared after him in despair, his heart heavy in his breast, like a rock. The captain bit his lip and called after the man.

‘Two hundred!’

Porcino paused, mid-stride, and turned round slowly. He looked at Marcus again and rubbed his bristly chin thoughtfully. ‘I’ll give you one hundred. And I’m robbing myself at that price.’

The captain decided on one last try. ‘A hundred and fifty, then.’

‘Done.’ Porcino strode back to the captain, spat in his hand and held it out.

The captain took his hand and they shook to seal the deal. Marcus felt a surge of relief – he was almost grateful towards the man who had saved his life. He smiled faintly as Porcino looked down at him, but there was no friendship in his expression. No sense that he had saved Marcus out of some impulse to help another human being. Just the hard stare of a professional businessman.

‘Piso!’ He clicked his fingers.

A wiry man in a brown tunic pushed through the loose ring of sailors who had gathered to watch.

Porcino turned towards him. ‘Take the boy. Chain him up with the rest of them.’

‘Yes, master.’ Piso bowed his head.

The captain, meanwhile, turned to bellow at his men, ordering them to break up the crowd, and for those on watch to get back to their duties. As the men dispersed, he turned to Porcino. ‘I’ll have that money before we reach port, eh?’

Porcino nodded, and with a last cold look at Marcus the captain turned away and made his way aft, limping. Porcino could not help grinning briefly at the man’s discomfort. But his face hardened as he turned back towards Piso. ‘Make sure you chain the boy well. Don’t want him trying to give us the slip once we reach Brundisium.’

‘No, master.’

Porcino glanced at Marcus. ‘And find him something to eat and drink.’

‘Yes, master.’

Porcino puffed out his cheeks. ‘I hope you’re worth the money, boy.’

Marcus swallowed and responded quietly. ‘Thank you.’

‘Thank you?’ Porcino laughed. ‘I’ve made you into a slave, boy, not a friend. Never forget it.’

Piso leaned down and plucked Marcus off the deck. As he was led towards the silent figures of the chained slaves, Marcus realized he had cheated death only to end up a slave yet again.

The Fair Wind reached Brundisium at first light two days later. As the sun slanted across the deck, the captain gave the order to reduce sail and the ship ghosted between the vessels lying at anchor. The steersman carefully set a course towards an empty berth alongside the quay as several sailors stood by with mooring ropes, ready to sling the tarred loops to men waiting on the quay.