had been tickled by the bizarre-looking rhino, but all the running about was boring. Soon this idiot would be crushed against the wall, and then the gladiator fights — the real entertainment — could begin.
Although it was utterly terrifying, Romulus stood his ground. Where could he run to anyway? At least now he was armed, and could give a good account of himself before he was sent to Elysium. His pulse was going like a trip hammer, and all he could think of was the people he had loved. His mother. Fabiola. Juba. Brennus. Tarquinius. And brave Petronius. His sister was the only one who was definitely alive, but he would still never see her again. Gods grant that Fabiola is well, and happy, thought Romulus. I will see her one day, in paradise. With that, he readied himself for the only move he could think of. He tossed the spear off to his right, making sure it landed straight, with its point towards him.
The audience responded with incredulous laughs. 'Too scared to use it now?' shouted one man.
The sand beneath Romulus' feet began to shake. The rhino loomed larger and larger in his vision. Every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to run, to hide, to jump out of the way. He thought his heart was going to leap out of his chest, but somehow Romulus managed to keep his feet right where they were. If he moved prematurely, the rhino would turn and catch him. If he left it a heartbeat too late, it would smash every bone in his body against the wall behind.
His entire world had shrunk to a tunnel directly in front of him.
It was filled with the angry rhino.
Romulus thought his muscles would remain frozen when the time came to move. Great Mithras, give me courage, he pleaded. An image of Brennus standing alone against the elephant flashed before his eyes. Then one of Petronius, buying him time. Romulus grimaced. That was enough. There was time for a last deep breath before the armoured beast hit him and ended this charade for ever.
He took it.
With the rhino no more than three steps away, he hurled himself to one side.
There was an almighty crash as the creature collided with the heavy timber planks, breaking some and cracking others. Its momentum was such that its horns and the front half of its head drove through to the other side, trapping it. Flying splinters covered Romulus' back as he landed face first in the sand. Fortunately he'd closed his eyes, so the yellow grains only filled his mouth. Above and behind him, he heard the furious rhino thrashing to free itself from the wooden prison around its massive neck. Angry bellows echoed through the planking as it pushed and pulled. Ominous creaking sounds told Romulus that he didn't have long.
Desperate, he got to his knees and faced his foe. He was so close that he could have reached out and touched its armoured brown hide. A kicking hind leg nearly brained Romulus as his right hand reached out, searching in the sand for the spear. Where was the damn thing? He began to panic. The rhino's struggling was so dangerous that he couldn't afford to look down. When his fingers closed on the wooden shaft, he gasped out loud with relief. Lifting the spear, Romulus studied the great expanse of leathery skin before him. It was just possible to make out the ribs. From his hunting experiences, he knew the heart's position behind the left elbow. Yet the fore leg on this side was pawing about so much he couldn't get a clear thrust in.
A number of timbers broke at once and the rhino lurched backwards a step.
Romulus cursed. If he didn't act now, all his efforts would have been in vain. Trusting his skill, he shoved the spear into the rhino's side with all his might. He felt the blade grate off a rib, slow down momentarily and then slide deep inside the chest cavity. Romulus ran the shaft in to the length of his forearm and more, twisting it to make sure. The sharp blade had to do many things: slice apart lung tissue, cut large blood vessels and penetrate the heart. It had to do all of those to bring down this leviathan.
A deafening bellow left the rhino's throat, and it broke free of the planking. Staggering backwards, it coughed up a fist-sized ball of bloody froth. To Romulus' horror, its beady eyes fixed on him. They were still just a few paces apart. Good killing distance. I had my chance, thought Romulus, his hope turning to despair. I wasn't good enough.
The rhino took a step towards him, and then its front legs buckled and gave way. Its hindquarters followed suit, and it sank down with a groan. Torrents of pinkish fluid began to pour from its mouth, staining the sand. More was issuing from around the spear shaft, which was jutting from its chest. From the blood's bright red colour, Romulus knew that he'd hit a major artery. He didn't know how, but he'd delivered the rhino a mortal blow. Gratitude filled every pore of his being. Petronius had been honoured, and avenged. No doubt the archers would loose any moment, and end his life. But when he entered Elysium, Romulus knew that he could hold his head up high, even among heroes like Brennus and Petronius.
He came back to the present as the rhino kicked a few more times. A moment later, the great horned head slumped forward and lay still.
Silence covered the huge amphitheatre like a blanket.
Romulus glanced up at the stunned and shocked faces of the audience. No one could believe what he'd done. It was unthinkable that an unarmed man could survive a bout against a creature as fearsome as the rhinoceros.
A pair of hands began to clap. Slowly at first, but then the speed increased.
When the crowd saw who was applauding, they hastily joined in. Cheers and shouts of congratulation replaced the vitriol which had fallen on Romulus' ears only moments before. The hypocrisy of it was stupendous.
Romulus looked up, and saw that it was Julius Caesar himself who was leading the ovation. A great lump of pride filled his throat, and tears pricked his eyes. At least one person present could see his bravery. Somehow this recognition eased the pain of Petronius' death.
'Who is this man?' cried Caesar. 'Bring him to me at once!'
The master of ceremonies scurried over to a furious-looking Memor and whispered in his ear. The impotent rage twisting the lanista's face quickly disappeared and he set off down the nearest set of stairs. The thunderous applause continued, and Romulus took the opportunity to honour Petronius' body. He hadn't been afforded this luxury with Brennus, which made it all the more important. Turning his back on Caesar, Romulus crouched down and clasped the veteran's bloodied right hand in his. 'Thank you, comrade. I will ask that the proper rites are performed. That you have a decent grave,' he whispered. Unlike Brennus, whose body was probably picked over by birds of carrion. Tears ran down Romulus' cheeks as he gently closed Petronius' staring eyes. 'Go well.'
When he stood, there were four of Memor's men pointing spears at his chest. The lanista was just behind them. There was a grudging respect in all of their gazes, except for Memor, who looked like a snake deprived of its prey. Romulus didn't care. Greater people were now involved, and the lanista would no longer decide his fate. In a tight phalanx, the five forced him back under the seating, past the cages and outside again. They entered the spectators' part of the arena, a novel experience for Romulus. It was too much to take in. He was still reeling from the shock of Petronius' death and the enormity of what he'd done.
Emerging from the dark into bright sunlight again, Romulus squinted. He was now in the dignitaries' box, surrounded by legionaries, high-ranking officers and senators. In their eyes he saw a mixture of emotions: respect, amazement and fear; and, in a few, revulsion and jealousy. Awe filled his own heart as he was shoved forward to stand before Caesar. Although Romulus had seen the general numerous times when in the Twenty-Eighth, he'd never been this close. In late middle age, with thinning grey hair, prominent nose and high cheekbones, Caesar was nothing special to look at. Despite this, his self-confidence was obvious and there was a palpable aura of command about him. Instinctively Romulus bowed from the waist.
'Leave us,' Caesar ordered Memor's men. He jabbed a finger at the lanista's chest. 'You stay.'
Bowing and scraping, the guards vanished.
'I understand that this slave was to die as a noxius for illegally joining the legions?'
'Yes, sir.'
Caesar frowned. 'And the other?'
'His comrade, sir. Apparently the idiot tried to defend him when he was exposed.'
'Someone also tells me that you used to own this slave. Is that true?'
'Indeed, sir. I bought him as a boy. He was trained to be a secutor,' replied Memor in an unctuous tone. 'But he ran away more than eight years ago. Murdered a noble, you see.'
Caesar's gaze fell on Romulus. 'Two capital offences,' he said softly.
What have I to lose, thought Romulus. 'I didn't kill the nobleman, sir,' he protested.
'He would say that, sir,' Memor interjected.
