The Forgotten Legion

Brennus' voice brought him back down to earth. 'Most men haven't got your balls and it shows in the way they fight. But you're like me. Nothing matters except victory!' He thumped his bare chest and laughed. 'Gauls fight with their hearts!'

Romulus scuffed the ground with a dusty foot, glad of the encouragement. For eighteen months, Brennus had been a good friend and teacher to him, building up his confidence and skill with weapons. Although he would never forget Juba, the Gaul had slowly come to take his place in Romulus' heart.

'Use your mind too. Anticipate what your enemy will do. Remember Lentulus.'

He flushed, determined never to be caught out again.

Brennus clouted him affectionately. 'Keep it up and you might end up with a rudis one day, like him.' He pointed at Cotta, who was breaking in his latest recruit.

The mention of freedom instantly brought back thoughts of his mother and Fabiola. 'I still want to show that bastard Gemellus a few tricks.'

'Forget him.' Brennus' voice changed, the laughter gone. 'Unless the gods are truly generous, you will never get the chance for revenge on those who hurt you.'

Romulus could sense real pain in the Gaul. His friend never spoke about the past, but Romulus suspected Brennus had suffered terribly before becoming a gladiator. 'Did something like that happen to you?' he ventured.

Brennus was silent. The candid question stirred memories, unsettling him. Brac. Liath. My son. He swept an uncharacteristically wild overhand blow at Romulus.

'Never let anger control you.' Romulus skipped neatly to one side and lunged forward, forcing the Gaul to retreat several steps.

Brennus laughed. 'Trying to teach me? Eat this!' With a sweep of his sandal, he kicked a cloud of sand at Romulus' face.

The young fighter saw the move coming just a fraction too late. Yellow grains filled his vision. He dodged to the left, knowing the big man had bested him.

'Dead meat,' said Brennus, pricking Romulus' throat with the tip of the blade.

He rubbed angrily at reddened eyes, coughing to clear his throat.

'Watch your enemy's expression.' Brennus poked a thick finger at him. 'He'll always give away something. A frown, a sideways glance. Use it to predict what he does.'

'I knew you were going to do that.'

'Doesn't matter this time,' replied the Gaul with a grin. 'It wasn't real.' He sheathed his sword, brushing the sand off. 'That's enough for now. Let's go and wash.'

For once Romulus was glad to relax. He followed Brennus across the yard, determined not to be caught out again. Several men greeted them as they walked by. The duel with Lentulus had earned Romulus considerable respect, which helped preserve the uneasy truce that had been simmering since the fight over Astoria. The majority had not cared about the murmillones' deaths, but would not take sides either.

Undeterred, Figulus and Gallus had been busy stirring up discontent among a select few and eventually it had become noticeable. At first it was only small things — vinegar poured in Brennus' wine, a foot stuck out to trip Romulus, straying hands touching Astoria's breasts. Tension had been rising steadily and Romulus had taken to wearing a dagger again at all times. The security he had felt for months after becoming Brennus' friend was being eroded day by day. He fought his worries by pushing himself to new levels of fitness and sparring with the Gaul at every opportunity.

Brennus scratched his thick blond curls. 'I'm surprised Figulus and his cronies haven't made a move before now.'

'They're scared of you.'

'And you!'

Romulus was delighted.

Quickly checking that the lanista was not about, Brennus roared at the small group in the far corner of the yard. 'Anyone feel like taking us on today?'

There were plenty of stares, but nobody spoke.

'It won't be an open fight. There aren't enough of the bastards.'

'I know.' Brennus nudged him. 'Still, doesn't do any harm to give them a warning.'

The big man's attitude was heartening and Romulus pushed open the door of the baths with a smile.

All would be well.

A month later it became clear when the showdown would be. Early one morning, Memor ordered all gladiators to gather together in the yard. It was an odd demand.

The air was already warm even though it was not long after sunrise. Rome had been baking in late summer heat for some weeks. Like most, Romulus and Brennus got up before dawn to exercise while it was still cool. There had been time to complete a full set of weights training before the gathering. The men talked eagerly as they waited. No one knew what was going on.

When Memor appeared, he had a strange smile on his face.

'You're probably all wondering why I called you here.' He paused.

'What is it, Memor?' shouted a fighter near the back.

'Milo needs us to keep Clodius in line again!' cried another.

There was a roar of approval. During the previous spring, with bloodshed on the streets escalating, the tribune Milo had been accused by his rival Clodius of using violence. The action showed breathtaking gall and the trial in the Forum Romanum had been abandoned when a full-scale riot had broken out. Milo's men had quelled the trouble, but with great difficulty. More unrest had followed, providing many gladiators with regular periods outside the ludus.

There had been further need for their services when the consular elections had taken place only a few months before. As Pompey and Crassus blatantly acted together once more to secure the posts for themselves, public disturbances had soared. The travesty of democracy had not stopped there. Pompey was now the effective ruler of Hispania and Greece; Crassus had his governorship of Syria. Caesar had also done well, being granted consular powers over the provinces of Illyricum and Gaul. The triumvirate 's shameless and open criminal behaviour had enraged the people and widespread mayhem had followed.

'No,' Memor snapped dismissively. 'Pompey Magnus has added an extra day of entertainment to his celebratory games.'

'Chariot races!'

'And you have a good tip for us!' added the wit in the crowd.

Everyone laughed.

Even Memor's lined face cracked into a smile. 'Better than that,' he replied. 'An opportunity to show that the Ludus Magnus is truly the best in Rome.' The lanista raised his voice. 'General Pompey wants a special contest! Two groups of fifty against each other.'

'We haven't got a hundred gladiators,' said a murmillo, looking confused.

'Fool!' snapped Memor. 'Fifty of you versus the same number from the Dacicus school.'

'What a fight!' Brennus bared his teeth expectantly.

'This is not a points contest,' he continued. 'Everyone will fight to the death until one side is victorious.'

There were gasps of shock at the most unusual announcement.

'But every man who survives unhurt will receive a bag of gold.' The lanista raised a fist. 'For the Ludus Magnus!'

Faces lit up at the prospect of such wealth, even though many would die in the combat. 'Lu-dus Magnus! Lu- dus Magnus!'

'Look at Figulus,' Romulus whispered. 'The bastards will make their move during it.'

'He does seem very pleased,' agreed Brennus. 'Be a good opportunity too. There 'll be bodies everywhere.'

'A hundred gladiators fighting to kill?'

'Pompey must be feeling the need to impress. You know how it is.' Prominent politicians were always trying to outdo their rivals' efforts.

Romulus nodded. Everyone in Rome knew that the struggle for power was intensifying. But politics paled