Simon Scarrow: Gladiator

Marcus saw his mother shake her head. She turned away and walked back into the house. Even though his heart burned with pride at having fought at his father’s side, he could not help wondering if she was right. What if Decimus did send more men? They would surely be better prepared to take on his father next time.

‘Well, that was fun!’ Titus grinned. ‘Something worthy of a celebration. Aristides!’

‘Master?’

‘Slaughter your best goat. Tonight we celebrate our victory with a feast!’

Marcus looked up and exchanged a smile with his father. Titus patted his cheek and nodded with satisfaction.

‘My little soldier. You’ll make quite a fighter one day. You’ll see.’

Several days after Decimus’s men had been driven off, Marcus and Aristides were sitting on a slab of rock watching over the goats.

‘Cerberus served you well the other day.’ Aristides smiled, then his expression grew more serious. ‘However, you still have some way to go before that dog is fully trained.’

Marcus looked down at Cerberus. The dog sensed his attention, and gazed up with a devoted expression and wagged his tail happily. ‘He seems tame enough.’

‘He’s tame, but he’s not trained,’ Aristides said firmly. ‘It was quick thinking to throw that stick for him, but you can’t rely on that working next time.’

‘Next time? You really think those men will come back?’

‘It’s possible.’ Aristides forced himself to smile dismissively. ‘Even if they don’t, that’s no reason not to finish training Cerberus. He’s done well since you found him, master Marcus.’

Marcus nodded. It was over a year since the pedlar had come by the house with his cart filled with old pots, knives, cups and other wares. Cerberus had been chained to the back of the wagon to guard its contents. He had been starved and beaten to make him as vicious as possible, to deter anyone attempting to steal anything from the wagon. Marcus’s mother had taken one look at the contents of the cart and was about to send the pedlar on his way when Marcus intervened. The sight of the dog had broken his young heart.

‘Let me buy him, mother,’ he had whispered to her.

‘Buy him?’ Livia looked amused. ‘What with? You have no money.’

‘Then you buy him. Please.’

She shook her head. ‘He’s a worthless wild animal, Marcus. No good for anything.’

Marcus looked at the animal and saw through the matted hair and bared teeth – saw the tormented and frightened creature within. ‘He’s been badly treated. He needs care. Let me have him and I promise I can train him, and make him useful on the farm. Please.’ He caught the sleeve of her tunic and stared up at her. ‘If that man is allowed to own him for much longer, the poor dog will die.’

His mother stared back at him, and then frowned, as if a memory had surfaced. She looked up at the pedlar and asked curtly, ‘How much for the dog?’

The pedlar’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. ‘Twenty sestertii, seeing as it’s for the young lad there.’

‘Ten. And no more.’

‘Ten?’ The pedlar pretended to look surprised. ‘But Cerberus is a first-class hunting dog. Good lineage and all that. Worth a fortune, he is.’

‘Ten,’ Livia said firmly.

The pedlar paused, as if weighing up the offer. Then he nodded. ‘All right then, but I’m robbing myself.’

He untied the dog from the cart and offered the rope to Marcus. Livia held him back as she spoke to the pedlar. ‘No. You tie him to that post there behind the barn.’

Once the dog was secured, she went inside for the money and counted the coins out into the pedlar’s hand. He closed his fingers at once and scurried back to his cart.

‘Good luck with him. You’ll need it.’

Then he cracked his whip and the cart trundled away, leaving Marcus staring at the dog as it backed against the wall of the barn and watched its new owners suspiciously.

Aristides had a special talent for taming animals and he spent his spare time trying to pass on his skills to Marcus. Together, they had worked on Cerberus in a barred storeroom behind the olive press. Marcus remembered that first night – the old man had fed Cerberus a sleeping potion, then the two crept in and bathed the dog’s wounds. Afterwards he was fed a diet of gruel made from ground barley with scrap meat from the kitchen. Weeks passed, and the dog soon recovered his health, and fur grew back over the bald patches, covering his bruises and scars. Coached by Aristides, Marcus began to offer the dog pieces of meat. At first he offered the meat through the bars, and Cerberus approached warily before snatching it away and rushing to the back of the storeroom, where he gulped it down. Then Aristides and Marcus entered the room, and Aristides gently urged Marcus to offer the meat by hand. It took all of Marcus’s courage to step forward and hold his hand out.

‘Don’t flinch,’ the goatherd urged him. ‘You must not let him know you are afraid.’

The first few times Cerberus snatched the meat and ran, but after a few days he took the meat and ate it where he stood. Then, one day, after he had gulped the meat down he stepped cautiously forward and sniffed Marcus. The puffs of warm breath on his skin made Marcus nervous, but he held his hand still, until he suddenly felt the dog’s tongue lick his fingers. His breast filled with a warm pride and love for the animal and he glanced at Aristides with a delighted smile. ‘Did you see?’

The old goatherd nodded and returned the smile, patting the boy on the head. ‘There, I told you if you were patient we would win him over.’

Soon, Cerberus was happy to let Marcus stroke him, and a month after he arrived they led him out of the room and took him for a walk around the farm. The dog was wary at first, before the delight of every scent took hold and he trotted to and fro, sniffing the ground, but always staying close to Marcus and Aristides. It wasn’t long before Marcus was walking the dog by himself, and starting the first simple lessons in obedience. Three months after Cerberus had arrived at the farm, Marcus presented the dog to his mother and father in the courtyard.

‘Well! He’s much improved,’ Livia said with a surprised expression. ‘His coat looks in good condition and he’s put on some weight.’

‘True,’ Titus mused, squatting down to look closely at the dog. He felt its muscles and lifted the jowls to check the teeth, all without any reaction from Cerberus. Titus looked at his son. ‘You’ve done well, boy.’

Marcus smiled with pride, then he gestured to the goatherd. ‘Aristides helped me, father. I couldn’t have done it without him.’

‘Yes, he is good with animals. Always has been. Now then, the question is, what use can this one be put to? Can he be trained, I wonder?’

Marcus smiled. ‘Watch.’

He clicked his fingers and pointed to the ground at his side. ‘Sit!’

Cerberus pulled away from Titus, trotted to Marcus’s side and sat. Then Marcus opened his hand so the palm was parallel to the ground. ‘Lie!’

Cerberus shuffled his front legs forward and sank on to the ground. Marcus paused and then circled his hand round. ‘Die for Rome.’

Cerberus rolled over on to his back, legs flopping loosely. Marcus’s mother clapped her hands in delight.

‘What a clever dog!’

‘Clever?’ Titus frowned. ‘It’s a simple trick. Besides, a clever dog wouldn’t die for anyone. If you can teach him something useful to help us on the farm, then he’s yours to keep, boy. Otherwise, he must go.’

Marcus and Aristides tried to teach Cerberus how to help herd the goats, but the dog always treated the lessons as a game and ran barking at the goats until he was called off and placed back on his leash. They had better success with hunting. Cerberus had a fine nose for prey and more often than not he could chase down any hares before they reached the safety of their burrows. Titus grudgingly allowed the dog to stay.