Simon Scarrow - Gladiator

‘Cerberus will need a walk soon,’ Aristides continued. ‘He’s been shut up in the storeroom all morning.’

Marcus nodded again. He had made sure that the dog was out of the way while they rounded up the goats. ‘I’ll see to it in a moment.’

He looked out down the slope. A mile away the cluster of red roofs and white walls of Nydri lay by the sea, a metallic blue today with lighter and darker patches where the faint breeze rippled the surface. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

‘It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?’

Aristides looked at him with a surprised expression. ‘Why, yes, I suppose it is.’

‘Sometimes I think I would like to live here forever. On the farm, with my family. That includes you, Aristides.’

The old man smiled. ‘That’s a kind thing to say. But you will be a young man in a few years, keen to leave home and see the world for yourself. Have you thought of what you might like to do?’

Marcus nodded once more. ‘I’d like to be an animal trainer. Like you.’

Aristides chuckled. ‘I am just a slave, Marcus. I was born a slave. All my life I have been the property of other men and never had the chance to do what I wanted, or go where I willed. I was theirs to treat as they willed. Not all masters are as kind or fair as your father. Trust me. You would not want to be a slave.’

‘I suppose not.’ Marcus stared out to sea again for a moment. ‘Father wants me to be a soldier. He says he still has some influence with General Pompeius and can get me enrolled in a legion. If I am a good soldier and prove my courage, then I could become a centurion like him.’

‘I see.’ Aristides nodded. ‘And would you like that?’

‘I think so. I’ve heard him tell stories of his years in the legion. I would be proud if I could be like him. And he would be proud of me.’

‘Yes, I imagine so. What does your mother think?’

Marcus frowned. ‘I don’t know. Whenever I talk about it, she goes very quiet. I don’t understand why. I thought she’d want me to be like him.’

He felt something lightly tap his shoulder and looked up. ‘Here’s the rain.’

More drops fell, and they saw that the cloudy sky had darkened over the mountains behind the farm and a veil of rain was coming down the slope towards them.

‘You go back to the house,’ said Aristides. ‘I’ll stay here and watch the goats. We don’t want them panicking and trying to escape from the pen.’

Marcus nodded and quickly rose to his feet. The rain was now falling steadily, pattering through the leaves on the trees. Marcus hurried across to the storeroom, slipped the latch and ducked inside. At once there was a clicking of toenails across the paved floor as Cerberus bounded over to him, jumping up to lick his face.

‘Enough, boy!’ Marcus laughed, then remembered what Aristides had told him about being firm. He hardened his tone. ‘Sit!’

Cerberus instantly sat down, and his bushy tail swished once and then was still as he looked up at Marcus, waiting for the next instruction.

‘Good boy.’ He stroked the dog’s head and Cerberus’s tail started wagging again.

Outside the rain was now coming down hard, drumming on the rooftiles and dripping through wherever it found a gap. A dazzling burst of light lit up the gap in the door. Marcus stared outside. The rain slashed down like thousands of silver rods and with the dark clouds overhead it was hard to see beyond a hundred paces. A terrible crash of thunder shook the air and Cerberus flinched, then let out a frightened whine.

Marcus knelt down and put an arm over the dog’s back. He was trembling. ‘Easy, boy. It’ll soon pass.’

But some time later the rain had still not eased at all. Marcus stood in the storeroom and watched as it continued to pound down on the farm. Every now and then lightning would freeze the world in garish white, and the thunder would rip through the heavens. Marcus found it impossible to avoid the thin trickles of rain coming through the old roof, and all the time Cerberus became more afraid. At length, Marcus decided it would be better to shelter in the house. The kitchen would be warm, and there might be some scraps he could use to comfort Cerberus.

‘Come on, boy.’ He patted the dog’s side. ‘Come!’

Easing the door open, Marcus braced himself and then ran down the side of the storeroom towards the gate, with Cerberus at his heels. He dashed through the courtyard to the entrance of the house. It had taken him no more than ten heartbeats to reach shelter, but his tunic was drenched and Cerberus’s flanks were streaked with matted fur. At once, Marcus knew what was about to happen.

‘Cerberus, no!’

But it was too late – the dog shook himself, spraying the entrance corridor with drops of water, just as Marcus’s mother emerged from her room to see who had entered the house.

‘What on earth!’ She held up her hands to shield her face from the spray of droplets.

Cerberus finished shaking and looked round at his master with his tongue lolling out.

Livia lowered her hands and glared down at her son as she hissed, ‘What is that wet dog doing in my house?’

Another figure emerged from the far end of the corridor, and Titus laughed as he took in the scene. ‘No shelter from the rain indoors or out, it would seem!’

His wife turned her glare towards him. ‘I’m glad you think it’s funny.’

‘Well, yes, it is.’ Titus scratched his head. ‘Very funny, actually.’

He winked at his son and both of them laughed. Livia scowled. ‘Men and boys, I don’t know which are worse. If I had my way -’

She was interrupted by a panicked cry from the gateway. The laughter died in Marcus’s and his father’s throats.

‘Master!’ Aristides shrieked.

Livia clutched her hand to her face.

Titus ran down the corridor into the courtyard and Marcus followed him. Over by the gate, the goatherd was slumped against the archway. An arrow protruded from his chest. Blood spread down his tunic. He leaned his head back and groaned as the rain splashed down on his face and straggly beard. As Marcus and Titus reached him and knelt at his side, his eyes flickered open. He raised a hand and grasped Titus’s sleeve.

‘Master, they’ve come back!’

He coughed, and frothy blood hung from his lips. He groaned again as he dropped Titus’s sleeve and shuddered. Looking up, through the gate, Marcus stared along the track, now running with tiny rivulets. He saw movement under the olive trees. With a blinding flash of white, another bolt of lightning lit up the sky and there, frozen like statues, he saw several men armed with spears and swords – one had a bow, which he was holding up, ready to loose an arrow towards the house. Marcus saw the arrow fly, even as the lightning vanished, and just before the thunder crashed out he heard a thud. He looked down and Aristides stared back, wide-eyed. The arrow had struck him in the neck. The bloodied arrowhead had burst out the far side, a hand’s breadth from the skin. The goatherd opened his mouth, but there were no words, just a gush of blood before he slumped to one side.

Titus reacted instantly. ‘Get my sword!’

Marcus ran back towards the hall, where the weapon hung from a peg. He glanced over his shoulder to see his father heaving the solid wooden gate round on its hinges to close it. Through the narrowing gap Marcus could dimly see the men bursting from the cover of the olive trees and sprinting across the narrow strip of open ground towards the gateway. He turned away and ran into the hall, slipping on the flagstones. His mother grabbed his arm.

‘What’s happening?’ She saw the goatherd lying on the ground. ‘Aristides?’

‘He’s dead,’ Marcus replied flatly, then pulled free as he reached up and grabbed his father’s sword by the hilt, wrenching it free of the scabbard.