VII
If the past few weeks had been intensive, those which followed were doubly so. From dawn to dusk he worked with the lions in a paddock which was similar in size and shape to the arena.
Each evening when he lay back on his cot his muscles ached and the scratches on his skin stung beneath the salve Fronto had provided against the poison from a lion's claws, which could make any wound swell up and turn first red, then black, and lead to an agonizing death. But each day he learned more and taught more, and each day he became more confident that he could actually succeed.
It took a visit from Cupido to bring his soaring ego back down to earth.
'Yes, yes, the lions are very good,' he said. 'But it is not enough. If you are to convince the mob you must be able to show them something special, something they have never seen before. Think. What else is there? What can you do that will entertain a senator who has become bored watching two men trying to chop each other to pieces?'
Rufus shook his head, close to despair. 'I don't know. We've tried everything. Maybe I should just give up.'
'If you give up, you are as good as dead,' Cupido told him. 'And so are your animals. Come with me.' He marched across the packed dirt past the antelope enclosures, with Rufus at his heels. 'There, Rufus, there is your answer.'
Rufus stared. His heart seemed to have stopped. 'No,' he said, his voice faltering. 'No. I cannot.'
'You must,' Cupido said quietly. 'There is no other way. But tell no one, not even Fronto.'
Fronto monitored Rufus's progress with the lions and was secretly impressed by what he saw, but Rufus took Cupido's advice and there were certain aspects of the training that the trader didn't see. He still found it difficult to believe that the young man would succeed, but as he watched him work he felt himself drawn into the plan.
'I thought you were supposed to be making people laugh,' he complained helpfully. 'I've been watching you for an hour and all I feel like doing is crying.'
'If you think it's so easy why don't you try it?' Rufus replied wearily.
Fronto grinned. 'Fortunately, I'm too old and too fat. You are the young pup with the lust for fame and fortune.'
'Yes, but if I succeed it will only be fame. You'll be the one with the fortune.'
'Perhaps, but that is only fair. I am the one who's supplying all the livestock. Even you. Now get back to work.'
'Can you get me some wooden barrels?'
'If you need something to drink, drink water. Wine will only slow you down.'
'Empty barrels, about so big.' Rufus held his hand at waist height.
Fronto scratched his beard. 'It won't be easy. You're talking about a beer barrel and only barbarians drink beer. But I know someone who might have some to spare.'
Two days later, Fronto was back at the side of the paddock, looking pleased with himself.
Rufus was practising the most difficult part of his routine when the animal trader arrived. Things had been going well and he couldn't resist the temptation to show off. But in his efforts to impress, he lost concentration and missed his timing. What should have been an elegant landing ended with him rolling in the dust with the two lions, who looked at him with undisguised disapproval.
He picked himself up, patted Africanus on the back and limped slowly across to where Fronto stood. 'I hope you haven't come to gloat again,' he grunted.
'On the contrary,' Fronto said grandly. 'I have come to allow my newest entertainer to show me his work in all its perfection, though it seems I may have arrived at the wrong moment.'
Rufus's mood lightened and he smiled. 'You missed the best part.' 'I do hope so. Because in two weeks I will be sharing the experience with several thousand of my fellow citizens, and they may not be quite so forgiving.'
Rufus felt his stomach lurch. 'Two weeks? I can't be ready in two weeks.'
'I'm afraid you must, Rufus. The audience is invited. The ring is ready. The whispers already spread about this new phenomenon. It is much too late to turn back now. Besides, I spent all morning painting the posters.'
'But — '
'No buts. The deed is done. Now get back among your hairy friends and make me laugh.'
Fronto persuaded Cupido's lanista to give his less experienced gladiators the opportunity to perform in a bloodless contest before an audience who wouldn't demand their deaths if they were not properly entertained.
Rufus and his animals would provide the climax to the event. At least that was the plan.
Two weeks later, he sat alone in the darkness beneath the Taurus. Above him, he could hear the thunder of feet on the floor of the amphitheatre and the clash of iron as Cupido directed his gladiators in a mock battle of such terrifying reality that the mob roared their approval, despite the lack of gore. He had never been so scared in his life.
Twice he had emptied his bowels in the latrina which served the performers, and once he vomited bile from a stomach which burned and twitched with nerves. His hands shook so hard he could barely hold the short legionary sword he had been clutching convulsively for the last hour.
Everything was going to go wrong.
He tried to run through the details of the act in his mind, but all he could think of was the consequence of failure. The humiliation and the shame. How could he face Fronto and Cupido after the faith they had placed in him? How could he have had the audacity, the stupidity, to think he was capable of this?
Five thousand people were out there beyond the darkness, waiting. Waiting for him. Rufus. Rufus the slave. Rufus, the slave who had never achieved anything in his life. Rufus the slave who would soon be standing frozen in the sunlight as the great mob bayed with laughter and howled for him to be dragged out of their sight and replaced with a true entertainer.
He could not do it. He would not do it.
He stood up, legs shaking uncontrollably, and began to stagger to the door, away from the terror that gnawed and tore at him as if he was already a victim of the arena.
Then the lions roared.
They roared with excitement. They roared because for the last week they had listened to these same sounds of battle in their enclosures beneath the ring. They roared because they were ready.
Rufus stopped, frozen in the act of reaching for the door. The lions roared again. And the sound echoing through the dark chambers returned to him the courage he feared had deserted him for ever.
His head, which had been filled with nothing but panic, cleared, and it was as if he had been blind and could suddenly see again. His hand stole to his throat and the lion's tooth charm that never left him. He took a deep breath, and his body was shaken by one last convulsive spasm.
He turned to find himself looking directly into two eyes still filled with the light of battle. Cupido removed his helmet and his hair was plastered to his head like a crown of molten gold. How long had he been there?
But the gladiator, if he had seen anything, was careful to say nothing.
'Five minutes, Rufus. My fellows are just going through their final set pieces. Here. Use this instead of the gladius.'
Rufus looked curiously at the cloth-wrapped bundle he was being offered.
'Take it.'
He took the parcel from the gladiator's outstretched hands and unwrapped it. He was left holding a sword so long it could almost have been a spear and an outsize gladiator's helmet of the type used by the murmillones. Both objects looked as if they should be incredibly heavy, but Rufus discovered they were surprisingly light.
'Try them,' urged Cupido.
Rufus handed Cupido the sword and with two hands placed the helmet over his head. It was so big it covered his whole head and sat on his shoulders, but the eye holes were cunningly placed so that, although it looked from the outside as if he should be unable to see anything, his vision was hardly more impaired than if he had been wearing a normal helmet.
'Do I have to wear this?' he demanded, his voice muffled by the allenveloping headgear. 'I must look
