Simon Scarrow - Gladiator

As the prisoners sat in the warming glow of the flames, Marcus thought for the first time about how the rest of his companions had come to be here. Maybe they all had stories as unjust as his own. He turned to Pelleneus.

‘How did you end up one of Porcino’s slaves?’ he asked.

Pelleneus gave a bitter laugh. ‘You want to know more about the life of a slave, boy?… Unlike you, a Roman citizen, I was born into slavery, in a brothel in the slums of Athens. I was raised with a handful of other children whose mothers worked there. As soon as we were old enough, the slave who ran the establishment on behalf of the owner had us out on the streets stealing for him. Jewellery and other valuables from market stalls. We also picked the purses of the wealthier citizens of the city as they strolled through the crowded streets.’ The Athenian smiled at the memory, then his expression hardened as he continued. ‘Then one day my mother rejected the advances of the head slave. As a result, the slave took his revenge and bullied me relentlessly.

‘In the end, I snapped. I was fourteen when I finally turned on the slave and used my fists. It was a short struggle, in the brothel kitchen, with the women screaming in panic all around us as customers ran for cover. I won the fight, beating the man to a bloody pulp. Beating him so badly that he died from his injuries a few days later.’

‘You killed him with your bare hands?’ asked Marcus in astonishment.

Pelleneus nodded. ‘Not the smartest thing I ever did. Once the owner heard, he wanted to make an example of me. He demanded that I be put to death. However, it turned out that one of the customers who had witnessed the fight owned a team of boxers and decided that I had potential. So, he bought me and trained me until I had grown to manhood, and since then I’ve been fighting in bouts across southern Graecia, losing only a handful of fights in ten years. It was in a fight staged at the party of a wealthy merchant that Porcino saw me and decided my talents might be more profitably used in the arena. He paid a high price,’ Pelleneus said with evident pride in himself. ‘Now I’m looking forward to fighting before the crowds in Rome.’

Marcus looked at him curiously. ‘You mean you actually want to become a gladiator?’

‘Why not?’

Marcus could not help a surprised smile. ‘Because you’ll be putting your life at risk every time you fight.’

‘I’ve been in fights before.’

‘And, as you say, you haven’t won them all.’

‘True,’ Pelleneus conceded.

‘If you lose a fight in the arena, it could well be your last,’ Marcus suggested. ‘Seems to me that it’s more dangerous than boxing.’

‘Then the trick of it is not to lose,’ Pelleneus replied. ‘If I train hard and learn all I can, then I will have every chance of winning in the arena.’

‘Unless you meet a better gladiator.’

Pelleneus pursed his lips. ‘Then it will be a case of putting up a good fight. If a man does that, then the crowd will want him spared. If I live long enough, and win enough fights, there will be rewards.’ He stared into the fire and smiled longingly. ‘I might even win my freedom one day, and have enough money put aside to buy a farm, or a small business, and live out the rest of my life in comfort.’

Marcus did not know much about the life of a gladiator but what Pelleneus had just told him had sparked a thought. If he could not escape his current position and was condemned to live as a gladiator, what if he survived long enough to make his fortune? He could return to Graecia and buy his mother’s freedom, and take her back to the farm and return to the way things had been before Decimus’s thugs had destroyed their lives. If the chance came, then he would be a good enough fighter to take on and defeat those who had killed his father. Best of all, he would find – and kill – Decimus. He dwelled on the prospect for a while, until he became aware that the iron collar was chafing his collarbone, and he shifted the neckline of his tunic to cushion his skin.

It brought him back to reality. Whatever ambitions Pelleneus might have, the truth of the moment was that they were all slaves. The property of the lanista, Porcino, to do with as he wished. As he thought about it, Marcus decided that it would be better to continue with his first plan. However difficult, he must try to escape and find General Pompeius, rather than spend years preparing to become a gladiator, and then more years risking his life in the arena in order to win liberty and riches so that he could rescue his mother, if she survived until then.

The fire was starting to die down. The Thracians and the Spartan had already lain down close to the fire to try to sleep. With a deep sigh Phyrus followed suit, curling up on his side, like a child. Before long the air reverberated with his deep snores, but his sleep was troubled and he frequently twitched and mumbled snatches of sentences that made little sense to Marcus.

‘What about him?’ Marcus nodded to the slumbering giant. ‘What’s his story?’

Pelleneus looked at their companion with a pitying expression. ‘Poor Phyrus shouldn’t be here. He may be as strong as a bear but he does not have the heart of a fighter. I fear for him once we reach Capua and enter the gladiator school.’

‘Porcino must think he has potential,’ Marcus reflected. ‘Otherwise, why buy him?’

Pelleneus glanced round to make sure that neither their master nor Piso was within earshot, but he lowered his voice anyway. ‘Porcino just sees his size, his strength. He does not see the man within. Well, more of a child than a man, I think.’

‘How did Phyrus come to be bought by Porcino?’

Pelleneus drew up his knees and wrapped his long muscled arms round them. ‘From what he’s told me since we were chained together, Phyrus was little more than an infant when he was brought to Athens. He was owned by a Greek slave trader and raised as a household slave, until the trader and his wife had a child. A boy. Phyrus was made his body-servant. He virtually raised the boy, and loved him like a brother. However, as the child grew and began to return Phyrus’s affection, the mother became jealous and demanded that Phyrus be sold. The father would have none of it. He saw how much Phyrus meant to his son and knew it would break the boy’s heart. So, from what I can gather, the mother claimed one day that her most precious bracelet had been stolen. She insisted that the entire house be searched from top to bottom.’ Pelleneus looked at Marcus and smiled sadly. ‘You can guess what happened.’

Marcus considered briefly, then nodded. ‘They found the bracelet in Phyrus’s quarters?’

‘Yes. Under his bedroll. The mother convinced her husband to sell Phyrus. It broke his heart to leave their boy. He was auctioned in the slave market at Athens. Phyrus stood out among the other slaves on sale, as you can imagine. Porcino was impressed enough to buy him.’ He looked down at Phyrus. ‘I doubt he’d hurt a fly if he could help it. I am afraid for him. I doubt he will survive for long once we reach the gladiator school, unless he learns to fight.’

Marcus thought for a moment as he hugged his knees. Since being taken from the farm he had been consumed by his own problems. Only the injustice done to him and his family mattered. It seemed as if the rest of the world was an uncaring place filled with people who knew nothing of his grief. He had thought that his suffering was the worst thing that could happen to a person. If others would only listen to his tale, then they would think so too, and do what they could to help to correct such a monstrous injustice.

Now, Marcus understood that the world was filled with injustices, and that others, like Phyrus, suffered too. He was not a special case, singled out by the Gods to endure the harshest cruelty and grief. There were others, with similar tales, carrying similar burdens. Marcus was not quite sure how he felt about it. The thought of so many more people suffering as he did struck him with a kind of numbing horror. Yet, in spite of that, for the first time since he had been seized by Decimus’s henchmen, he felt that he was not alone. There was some comfort in that.