‘Let me ask the slave a few more questions. Would you assist me with translating them?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘How old is this slave? I see streaks of grey in his beard and hair.’
Sextus guffawed.
‘Come on my friend, everyone knows these barbarians can’t count. It would be pointless to ask him such a question.’
‘Do it anyway.’
Sextus grumbled under his breath and then turned around to question the Gaul. The man gazed with haughty disdain at Sextus and Lucius, and then muttered a response, which elicited a look of surprise from the slave trader.
‘He says that by Roman reckoning he is forty-one years old.’
Lucius nodded slowly, and a hint of a smile began to materialise in the creases around the corners of his small, downturned mouth.
‘He certainly is more intelligent than his appearance would indicate, is he not?’ he remarked. ‘Forty-one, that is of a fairly advanced age, though.’
‘Well, he has some grey in his mane, that is true,’ Sextus said, ‘but look at the tautness of his muscles beneath all this fur! I’d wager he can swing a sword with twice the ferocity of a man half his age!’
‘That will be for me to decide, Sextus.’
‘Aye, aye,’ Sextus acquiesced reluctantly. ‘Well, go on, what else do you want to ask him?’
‘Ask him how many men he has killed in battle.’
Sextus translated the question, and the man’s eyes shone with a crackling, dangerous blaze. He spoke loudly and clearly now, and he puffed his chest out with pride.
‘He claims to have taken the ears of over thirty men in combat. It was his tribe’s custom to sever and keep the ears of defeated opponents, apparently.’
Lucius nodded appreciatively, the corners of his mouth inching up into a wry smile.
‘Very well, I will purchase this man, no trial necessary.’
‘This is most unusual, Lucius!’ Sextus exclaimed, delighted but rather surprised. ‘You’ve never bought a man you haven’t tested first. I’m not complaining, but don’t come back to me with gripes if he fails to perform! You’ll not get a single denarius back from me.’
‘I accept full responsibility for the success or failure of this gamble,’ Lucius said calmly.
‘Very well! You can take him off my hands for five thousand denarii.’
Lucius let out a mocking guffaw.
‘For a forty-one-year-old? You are too presumptuous for your own good, Sextus. He may well be lying about his battle victories.’
Sextus shrugged.
‘You’re the one who wants to take a gamble.’
‘Three thousand.’
‘Four thousand five hundred.’
‘Three thousand.’
‘Four thousand two hundred!’
‘Three.’
‘The gods take your cock!’ Sextus snarled. ‘I’ll not sell him for three!’
Lucius smiled mockingly.
‘Very well. Three thousand five hundred.’
‘You take pleasure in insulting me, Lucius!’ Sextus growled. ‘Fine, take the filthy savage off my hands for such a pittance. I’ll not forget this slight against me though!’
Sextus grumbled and muttered angrily under his breath, but he ordered his guard to unshackle the Gaul. Lucius, meanwhile, counted out one hundred and forty gold aurei from his velvet satchel, and handed the stack of coins to the slave trader.
‘Three thousand five hundred denarii, in gold.’
Sextus bit one of the coins and nodded, smiling now that the money was in his hands.
‘He’s all yours, Lucius. I look forward to seeing him perform in the arena. We will see then whether your gamble has paid off, no?’
‘I have a feeling it will, Sextus. Good day to you! Come, my barbarian pet,’ he said, turning to the Gallic slave, who had been removed from the line and put into individual chains. ‘I’m your master now. You’ll be doing as I say.’
Sextus muttered something in the Gaul’s language, and pointed at Lucius. The man nodded and bowed his shaggy head, although the flames of defiance still danced in his eyes.
The Nubian guard placed a cautionary hand on Lucius’s forearm.
‘Watch out for this one,’ he said in a low tone. ‘He’s a rebellious shit, doesn’t like to do what he’s told. I’ve beaten him black and blue and he still refuses to submit. He’ll stick a knife in your back the first chance he gets, so be warned.’
Lucius slapped the guard’s leather-armoured back with cheerful glee.
‘Thank you for the warning, friend! I’ll keep my eye on him. Don’t worry about me though; I’ve broken far more stubborn savages than this one.’
The guard nodded coolly, keeping his eyes on the slave and looking somewhat unconvinced.
‘Does he have a name of his own?’ Lucius asked.
‘These things lose their names when they lose their freedom,’ Sextus said with a roll of his eyes and a frown of disapproval. ‘You know this well enough. Why do you ask? Give him whatever name pleases you. He’s your property now.’
‘I find that it makes them more trusting of you and willing to obey if you let them retain their pre-slave names.’
‘As you wish,’ Sextus sighed. He turned to the Gaul and muttered a question.
The Gallic slave turned and fixed Lucius’s gaze with a barbed, defiant stare.
‘Viridovix,’ he said, his deep voice ringing out loud and clear over the clamour of the marketplace.
‘Viridovix,’ Lucius repeated, nodding slowly and grinning with satisfaction. ‘I like it. Come, Viridovix,’ he instructed. ‘Follow me.’
The two of them set off through the crowded streets, with Viridovix shuffling behind Lucius as the thin man strode eagerly on ahead.
‘This way!’ Lucius barked as he turned and headed down a narrow alley, and then stepped into a wooden building. Inside, the walls and shelves were lined with an impressive array of exotic weaponry. Various suits of armour, mostly foreign, were mounted and displayed on crude mannequins.
‘Ramses, you Egyptian dog!’ Lucius called out in a gleeful tone as a chubby middle-aged man shuffled out of a back chamber. His bald head, slick with perspiration, gleamed and glistened like the skin of some sea creature, freshly dredged from the ocean depths, in the light given off from the dozens of candles that illuminated his shop.
‘Lucius, my friend!’ he rasped, his voice
