Адриан Голдсуорти - Brigantia

With all his strength he stamped forward and jabbed with the spear, aiming for the man’s armpit, but he was moving and instead the spear caught him lower down, grazing his stomach, drawing blood from the bare skin. Then the gladiator had recovered, stepped back and was facing him, body covered by the shield. Ferox started to spin around to face the other one, who was coming on, then with a crack something grabbed his left arm. The man with the whip had him and jerked him off balance, and the one he had wounded punched with his shield, the dome-like boss smacking the centurion in the face and flinging him back. Ferox staggered, falling to his knees, and the other gladiator pounded him on the side of the head and he dropped, face down, on the sand.

An iron door swung back to open with a bang and there were shouts echoing around the arena. Ferox tried to push himself up, but his head was swimming and the best he could do was roll. A sword thrust into the sand an instant after he had moved, and then the gladiator was being forced back, massive blows from a sword taking lumps out of his shield. Gannascus followed, and for a big man his speed and balance were amazing. When the gladiator feinted and jabbed, the German was simply not there, and laughed as he beat the other man’s guard and slashed a deep gouge across his chest. Ferox almost felt sorry for the gladiator. He had fought the big man once, when they had first met, and only survived that because help had arrived and Gannascus had decided to leave. Two more blows and the gladiator was on the sand, desperately trying to hold in his bowels.

The other one was already dead, finished by Vindex and one of the Batavians, while Longinus had almost beheaded the man with the whip.

‘What in Hercules’ name is going on? Who are you?’ A stocky man, with a big belly but plenty of muscle, led half a dozen others armed with clubs and spears into the arena. They came from the same tunnel the lions had used. Already angry, he became incandescent when he saw the dead lioness. ‘My breeders. Which mongrel got them out of their pen?’

Ferox tried to get up, but was struggling until the grinning German lifted him to his feet. If these were animals kept for breeding rather than fighting, then it helped to explain their reluctance to kill.

‘I am a centurion,’ he said. ‘Acting on the orders of the legatus Augusti himself.’

‘Are you? Well, I’m not under your damned orders and you can go and shag yourself blind outside. I’ll have you in court.’

It took a moment before he began to calm, helped by the realisation that he was faced with five armed men, one of them huge and the rest big and handy enough. Ferox tried to explain that he was lured here by a guide, then ambushed.

‘We got one,’ Vindex said at that point. ‘The other got away, but I gave a good enough cut to the arm to stop him shooting a bow anytime soon.’

Ferox went on, telling how he came inside and found the murdered Kopros.

‘Knew him,’ the thickset man said. ‘Bit too fancy, but played his part when the statues of the emperors were paraded. Poor bugger.’

When he spoke about Domitius there was also recognition. ‘That old sod. He’s been sniffing about a few times in the last weeks. First he said he wanted to hire some of my boys, then buy some animals. Nothing came of it.’

‘Three gladiators attacked me.’ He pointed at the corpses. ‘Those two and I guess the one with the whip. The other one was a woman.’

‘Woman? What sort of ludus do you think I run? No women, no freaks, nothing but the real art of fighting. That’s what you get from Sempronius. Only the best.’

‘Are these men yours?’

‘If they’d been mine, lad, you wouldn’t be talking now. No, never seen ’em before. Probably someone’s bodyguards or from out of town.’

‘Anyone see the woman?’ Ferox turned to look at the others, but was greeted by shaking heads. ‘Any sign?’ he called up to Sepenestus, who with his bow had climbed up among the seats.

‘No. Couple of dead men and that’s it.’ Ferox wondered about that. By the sound of it they were dead before the archer arrived, which meant maybe the woman had killed them. If so, then she really was dangerous, but it would seem she was not working for Domitius.

‘What did she look like?’ Vindex asked. Even in the moonlight his leer was obvious.

‘Like she wanted to kill me. Who knows about her face? She had a Thracian’s helmet on.’

‘Sounds a good woman.’ Gannascus slapped him hard on the back and he almost fell over.

‘No women fighters,’ Sempronius repeated. ‘Not here, not ever. Go to the east if you want that sort of skin show. Or Rome in the old days, but not in Londinium.’

The sky to the south was glowing. ‘That’s a fire,’ Sempronius said without any obvious emotion. ‘Well, we can leave my formal complaint at turning the amphitheatre into a private battleground until tomorrow. You clear off, and we’ll clear up. I can think about that formal complaint in the morning.’

‘My name is Flavius Ferox of Legio II Augusta.’

‘I heard the name the first time, and the legion don’t matter. This is still a small town, sonny boy. If I want to find you, I’ll find you.’

‘Do you need a surgeon?’ Longinus asked as they left, having waited for the archer to come down and join them in the same tunnel Ferox had used to enter the place. It was hard to tell how long ago that was.

‘No, Philo can fix me up.’

‘He was the one who sent us,’ Vindex explained. ‘Said I was to follow if you slipped away. There was no sign of us, so he followed on his own, saw you were coming here, and by the time he got back we were just coming in. By the way, we may need some more money.’

‘Dice were crooked,’ Gannascus said, as if pained by the evil in the world. ‘Still, fight was good. I like it here,’ he added with an air of finality.

As they came outside and went past the buildings they could see the glow of at least three fires in different parts of the town.

‘That doesn’t look like an accident,’ Longinus said. ‘You sure you will be all right?’

‘Yes. Help me back to the billet. And thank you all. You saved me,’ he said, and meant it.

‘We all make mistakes,’ Vindex said, and the German roared with laughter.

THE TEMPLE OF the Divine Vespasian was burned almost to the ground, and the fire had spread to a warehouse that backed on to it and was storing olive oil, among other things. By the time parties of soldiers and gangs of locals had managed to knock down enough buildings to make a fire break half a dozen houses and shops were reduced to ashes. Fortunately there had been no wind, or the damage would surely have been a lot worse, but people had died and others were scorched and overcome by smoke. The shrines of Liber Pater and Mars Camulos were almost destroyed, but there the fires had not spread and only a nightwatchman had died in Mars’ temple. The head priest suspected the man was too drunk to wake in time. The keepers of Minerva’s house were fortunately holding an overnight vigil and were not disturbed. Less surprisingly, the always active priests of Isis saw intruders with torches, and by banging their gongs and clashing cymbals chased them away and roused the neighbourhood. A woman initiate had been stabbed in the scuffle and the injury was said to be serious, but they had caught one of the attackers and torn him limb from limb.

‘Before he could talk, of course,’ Crispinus said. ‘Rather a pity really.’

‘Did anything happen at the Temple of Silvanus?’ Ferox asked. He had been summoned to the praetorium the next morning, and then ushered into a waiting room while the legate went through the formalities of morning salutations. The young tribune had joined him soon afterwards, brimming with news.