to be allowed to take part in martial displays for Circus Crises,' he read aloud. 'Who sponsors this man?'
'I do,' said Persis.
'And who stands beside him, to pledge his good faith.'
'I do,' said Rage solemnly.
Hulius looked at Bane. 'And do you, Bane, pledge to uphold the highest traditions of courage and-'
'I object to these proceedings,' said the Crimson Priest. Sweat began to trickle from Hulius's temple.
'On what grounds, Brother?'
'The law. It is forbidden for Gath tribesmen to carry swords for any reason, save those employed as scouts in the service of the army of Stone.'
'Yes indeed,' said Hulius, thankful that the matter could be dealt with simply. He had no wish at all to offend a priest. 'In that case-
'Bane is not a Gath,' said Persis Albitane. 'He is of the Rigante tribe, and was recommended to me by Watch Captain Oranus of Accia. As a Rigante he is not subject to the laws governing the Gath.'
Hulius felt sick, and glanced nervously at the Crimson Priest. 'Even so,' said the priest, 'the man is a barbarian, and it should be considered below the dignity of any honest citizen to employ him in the capacity of gladiator.'
'It may be argued', said Persis, 'that such employment in itself is 'below dignity', but it is certainly not illegal. Therefore I respectfully request that the objection be ruled inadmissible. There is no law to prevent a foreigner being gainfully employed by a citizen of Stone. Indeed there are many gladiators, past and present, from foreign lands.'
Hulius would have loved to rule against Persis Albitane, but all his rulings were written down and sent on to Stone, and this was not a matter of a magistrate's judgment – which could be bought at a price – but of the law of Stone. Hulius sat silently, his mind whirling, seeking some way to accommodate the priest. But there were no subtleties to the issue, no grey areas to exploit. The case was simple.
Hulius looked into the fat face of Persis Albitane. Perhaps there was still a way out. 'I would think that a loyal citizen of Stone would accede to the wishes of the venerable order of Crimson Priests,' he said smoothly. 'You are quite right when you say that the Rigante are not under the jurisdiction of Stone, but equally they are Keltoi, and the spirit of the law is what – I believe – concerns the brother.' Surely Persis would understand what he was saying. No-one wanted to come under the scrutiny of the Temple. Hulius looked at the man, and saw he was sweating. Then Persis spoke.
'With respect, Magistrate, there is no such creature as the spirit of the law,' he said. 'The laws of Stone are drafted by intelligent, far-seeing men – among them the senior priests of the Crimson Temple. If you believe the law to be carelessly drafted, then you should write to the Council forthwith. However, as has already been established, my request today does not break the law, and I once more submit the name of Bane.'
In that moment Hulius understood the true joys of boredom. To be bored was to be free of danger, far from perilous activities. 'I agree,' he said miserably. 'We will continue with the pledge.'
The Crimson Priest said nothing more, but stalked from the room.
Hulius Marani listened to the pledge, signed the necessary document, added the wax seal of Justice, and rose from his chair.
The day had soured considerably, and he had no desire now to visit his mistress.
Stadium Orises had never looked better, thought Persis, as he strolled out across the fresh sand to the centre of the arena. For two weeks – much to Norwin's disgust at the expense – carpenters and workmen had been labouring to repair the more run-down sections of the tiered seating areas. The stadium had been hastily constructed eleven years earlier, mostly of timber, supported on stone columns. The original owner, Gradine – a man of limitless ambition and little capital – had not been able to afford the normal embellishments – statues, fresco-decorated areas for the nobility, dining halls, and public urinals. Stadium Crises was, at best, functional. The arena floor was two hundred feet in diameter, surrounded by an eight-foot wall, beyond which were twenty rows of tiered bench seats. Many of these were warped and cracked. Shading his eyes Persis watched the carpenters at work on the last section. The new benches gleamed with linseed oil.
Norwin trudged across the sand to join his master. 'Well, once more you have managed to battle your way to poverty,' he said. 'I have completed the accounts. With most debts paid, half wages for the gladiators throughout the winter, and – assuming we get around three thousand people for the games, with a further thousand in revenue – we will be coinless by the first day of spring.'
'Spring is a long way off,' said Persis happily. 'Look at the stadium, Norwin. It is beginning to look very fine.'
'Like a seventy-year-old whore, with dyed hair and fresh face paint,' said Norwin. 'Anyway, the carriage is here. I told the driver to wait. Are you ready?'
Persis glanced at the sky, which was clear and blue. The day was cold, but not overly so. 'We should get a good crowd at the Field,' he said.
'Of course we'll get a good crowd,' said Norwin. 'It is a free day, and you have spent a fortune on fire breathers, acrobats, jugglers, and food. Of course people will come. But they would have come anyway. Palantes have brought an elephant.'
'An elephant? Ah, what it must be to have unlimited funds. Can you imagine how many people we could draw if we had an elephant?'
Norwin shook his head. Then he smiled. 'You are a good, sweet man, Persis, and I love you like a brother. But you lack foresight. How many times does one need to see an elephant before one is bored? If we had such a beast the crowd would come once. After that we would be left with enormous feeding costs. Then there would be trainers and handlers, and special housing for it. Then, with debt collectors stalking us like rabid wolves, I would urge you to sell the creature. You would say no, because you had grown to like it.'
'True,' agreed Persis affably. 'But an elephant!'
'Let's go to the carriage,' said Norwin, 'before I find a club and beat you to death with it.'
Persis laughed and the two men walked across the sand to the western Gladiators' Gate, on through the darkness of the Sword Room and the Surgeon's Ward, up the stairs and out once more into the sunshine.
The 'carriage' was a converted wagon, drawn by two sway-backed horses. Persis climbed the steps to the rear and sat down. 'I should have brought my cushion,' he said, as Norwin moved in alongside him. 'And didn't I ask you to hire the gilded bronze chariot from the garrison?'
'Aye, you did. But Palantes were there before me. Which I thank the Source for, since the cost was obscene.'
'You should not mention the Source so publicly,' Persis rebuked him.
Norwin nodded. 'It was a slip of the tongue. But it hurts me to be so secretive. I sometimes feel that I am betraying the Source by not speaking out, by hiding my faith.'
'They are burning heretics in Stone,' whispered Persis. 'Or casting them into the arena to be torn to death by wild animals. Yours is a perilous religion, my friend. Your faith could kill you.'
'That's true. It frightens me sometimes. But last night I went again to listen to the Veiled Lady, and she filled us all with the power of spirit. And she healed a man, Persis. Laid her hands on him, and all his sores vanished. You should come and hear her.'
'I can think of nothing I would rather do less,' said Persis. 'One day soon the priests will come in force to Goriasa. I do not wish to become kindling for their fires. Have you seen Rage today?' he asked, changing the subject.
'No, but he'll be there.'
'It is to be Vorkas. I had rather hoped the rumours were untrue.'
'Rage made the decision, not you, Persis. He is his own man.'
'I fear he is angry with me over Bane.'
'Rage doesn't get angry. And, anyway, the news that a Keltoi is fighting a gladiator is already the talk of the city. It should draw in a good crowd.'
Out on the open road the wind was more chilling and Norwin pulled a woollen cap from the pocket of his heavy coat. Tugging it over his balding head he glanced at his master. 'Bane has more chance of surviving than the man he replaced. And Bane himself was delighted to fight. He is a Keltoi. They live to rush around with swords and butcher one another.'
