The Forgotten Legion

or tightening straps on armour. Two Thracians were wrestling, watched idly by a dozen men. A few knelt in one corner, praying to their favourite gods for protection. Anything that whiled away the long hours before combat was a good idea. Figulus and his cronies were deep in conversation and Romulus felt safe enough to wander away from the Gaul.

Beyond the bars were horizontal wooden planks making up the enclosure 's main wall. Above were the seats of the rich and famous. Romulus smiled at the possibility of Gemellus' backside being so close to his sword. The merchant was an enthusiastic supporter of gladiatorial contests.

Romulus stared through a gap in the timbers. The lowest rows of benches were only a man's height from the ground and the spectators could almost reach out to touch the fighters and animals on the hot sand. 'Isn't it dangerous?' he asked.

'Look.' Brennus pointed at regularly placed archers with drawn bows round the perimeter. 'They can usually pick off anything that jumps out.'

'Usually?'

'Occasionally someone gets killed,' said Brennus. 'The people love it!'

'Apart from the poor bastard who gets mauled to death.'

'They want to watch the fight. '

'So why should we be the only ones to die in there?'

'Exactly,' smiled Brennus.

Romulus nodded, familiar with the citizens' huge thirst for blood. He shivered as he took in the slaughterhouse outside. The fight between man and beast they had heard was nearly over. Bloody corpses were scattered across the sand like rag dolls, limbs at awkward angles. Three lions and two leopards lay dead among the bodies, spears protruding from their chests and bellies.

'Gods above, help me!' The plaintive cry echoed around the open space. 'I have killed one cat. Is that not enough?'

Romulus stared in horror at the hunter who was limping round the arena, pleading with the people above. All his comrades had been slain and he was unarmed, with only a shield as protection. The young man's wellmuscled torso was covered in deep, bleeding scratches and his right arm hung uselessly. Jagged shards of bone protruded from the gaping wound in it, clear evidence of the animals' terrible power.

'Behind you!' Spectators above Romulus sniggered as the last remaining lion padded after the injured venator.

'Help me!'

'Help yourself, scum!'

'Die like a man! Entertain us!'

Insults and pieces of bread and fruit rained down. He would get nothing from the crowd.

They wanted more blood.

Romulus' knuckles turned white as he gripped the bars, wishing he could do something. Anything.

The venator's dilemma was immediate. With the scutum on his good arm, he might hold off the lion for some time, but could not hope to injure it.

The continuing blood loss from his injuries would eventually allow the lion to overcome him. With a weapon, he might have had a small chance of killing it, but now there would be no protection from the powerful claws that had ripped apart his companions.

Indecision played across the hunter's features. Then the survival instinct surfaced and he trotted to the nearest body, putting a little distance between himself and the lion. Discarding his shield, he picked up a heavy spear lying beside its dead owner.

'Roman savages.' Brennus materialised beside Romulus, watching the drama unfold. 'That's a good move, though. He wouldn't have enough reach with a sword.'

'What about a trident?'

'Too unwieldy. A spear has more length anyway.'

'Now what?'

'Wait until the beast tries to jump. Shove the butt into the sand and let it run on to the tip,' Brennus said softly. 'That's his only chance.'

Closing his eyes, Romulus asked Jupiter to help the wounded fighter.

With morbid fascination, they watched the newly armed venator back away. The big cat seemed content to follow, the only sign of impatience its twitching tail. Every so often it would lash out at the spear, but each time the man retreated, biding his time.

Soon the crowd began to grow bored and taunts filled the air. Coins and clay cups were thrown to encourage an attack. The lion grew noticeably angry, growling and lashing its tail from side to side.

Brennus grinned and pointed. 'He 's leading it away from the bodies.'

'Why?'

'To get away from the rubbish being thrown, for a start. Then he 'll try and goad the cat into jumping.'

Romulus could hardly watch. 'Got to end it soon or he 'll be too weak.'

'He knows that.'

The venator had finally reached an area free of corpses. Pushing his spear shaft into the ground with one hand, he lowered the broad-bladed head and glared at the lion.

'There is a man at peace with death!' Brennus thumped the bars excitedly. 'Kill the beast! Go on, kill it!'

The lion padded to within fifteen paces of its prey and paused, sunlight turning the pupils in its amber eyes to slits. It sank down on to the sand, tail tip moving faintly. The venator stiffened, crouching low behind his spear. He would only have one chance when it charged.

At last the audience stopped shouting and throwing objects. The tension became palpable.

'Watch the muscles in the back legs. It'll leap any moment.' Brennus gripped Romulus' shoulder. 'Could you stay calm? Your right arm in shreds?'

Romulus swallowed hard, trying to imagine the pain of the gaping wounds. The fighter did not look much older than himself and probably had a similar story. But it appeared he would not give in — life was too precious.

Springing up, the lion flew into the air. There was a collective intake of breath from the crowd. Refusing to allow fear to take over, the venator steadied himself.

The cat came down at speed and impaled itself on the spear.

Its momentum drove the sharp blade through its ribs, ripping heart and lungs to shreds. The hunter was knocked to the ground by the impact.

Silence reigned as the spectators took in the impossible.

Romulus jumped up and down, screaming at the top of his voice and thanking the gods. Laughing, Brennus joined in. Gladiators beat sword hilts off shields in appreciation, making as much noise as possible. It was a Herculean feat to kill a big predator with such severe injuries and inspiring for all of them.

Eventually the venator managed to push the dead weight off his lower body and stand. The people had been slowly responding to the din from below but the cheering doubled in volume when he got up.

'Fickle bastards,' said Brennus. 'Abusing him a few moments ago. Bloody Romans.'

Romulus agreed with his friend. The reaction of the audience was hypocritical; all that seemed to matter to them was mutilation and death.

The lesson was about to be reinforced in the most bloody way.

Emboldened by his actions, the venator walked to the hoarding near those who had thrown insults earlier. 'That good enough?' He spat in a clear gesture of defiance.

Romulus cheered, but a strange quiet fell over the Forum Boarium. The citizens of Rome did not like being mocked.

The wounded man proudly turned to walk away.

'Not clever,' Brennus said to himself. 'He shouldn't have done that.'

'But he killed the lion.'

'And just insulted someone rich or famous.' The Gaul sucked in his lower lip, peering between the planks. 'Wouldn't be surprised if. '