The Forgotten Legion

He picked up a leather bag and tossed it into the air.

Sextus grabbed the first, stepping back with a broad grin. Purses landed until every man had received one. Rapturous cheering continued long after Pompey had finished throwing. People had enjoyed the extravagant contest more than usual. The fighters waved swords, smiled and laughed, unused to such adulation.

It did not last.

With an impatient gesture, the master of ceremonies motioned for them to leave the arena. Their moment of glory was over; the gladiators were mere slaves again.

'It's heavy.' Romulus hefted his prize with both hands. 'How much is in it?'

Brennus shrugged. 'Couple of thousand sestertii maybe.'

'A bargain,' Romulus said, full of fury once more. 'We are better than this.' He shook the bag. It made a jingling sound. The price of men's lives.

Brennus shot him a glance. 'Too many ears around still,' he muttered.

Romulus fell silent. There was no point being reckless.

'Enough to buy wine and whores for the next few months!' Sextus was grinning from ear to ear.

'Thanks for getting Romulus out of that tight spot.'

'You saved my hide last year, remember?'

Brennus shrugged. 'Anyone would have done the same.'

'Except they wouldn't,' replied the scissores swiftly. 'It's a shame Figulus survived, though. A poisonous snake, that one.'

'Bastard will be stirring up more trouble in no time.' Brennus watched Figulus with narrowed eyes. 'I know it.'

'Won't be happy until he has killed you,' sighed Sextus. 'And raped Astoria.'

The words were inflammatory.

Brennus raised his sword. 'I'll just go and kill him. Get it over with.'

He was interrupted by Memor, who appeared on the sand alone. 'The fight was over!' he screeched. 'One of the familia was pleading for his life. And what did you do?'

The Gaul did not answer.

'You maimed him!'

'He and his sewer rat friends attacked me and Romulus,' replied Brennus. 'They were going to kill us both.'

'It must have been a mistake,' cried Memor, waving his hands. 'They mistook you for Dacicus fighters.' Clearly he had not seen the start of the altercation.

'It was all planned.'

The lanista ignored his answer. 'When a man pleads for mercy, you do not say what happens.' Memor pointed at the dignitaries' box, shaking with anger. 'Pompey decides!' He waved a fist at the Gaul.

Brennus clenched his jaw.

'All special rights are withdrawn! Astoria can go back to the kitchen where she belongs. I'm taking back your cell too,' Memor sneered. 'Bunk in with some of the others. See how you like it.'

Brennus took a step towards the lanista, longsword raised. 'I ought to cut your throat.'

Memor simply lifted a hand.

Archers on top of the hoarding raised drawn bows.

'Do exactly as I say, or get a belly full of arrows.' The lanista paused. 'And you might stop that black bitch being sold to the Lupanar tomorrow morning.'

Brennus went rigid.

Memor waited.

Romulus watched the standoff with bated breath. There was no way to stop the lanista without also dying.

At last Brennus stepped back.

Memor stared at the big slave for a few moments. Satisfied Brennus wasn't going to take the bait, he stalked from the arena. 'Get back to the cells,' he snarled over his shoulder.

'Son of a whore!' Brennus spat. 'I'll slice him open and make him eat his own guts.'

'It would be good to see that,' Sextus said with a sad smile. 'But you'd be crucified alongside Astoria before the day was over.'

'What can I do?' Brennus' tone was despairing, something Romulus had never heard before. 'I can look after myself, but Astoria needs me.'

'I will care for her.'

'Why?'

'I also hate Memor,' Sextus said calmly. 'Astoria will be safe until you win favour again.'

Hearing this, Romulus nearly said something. They would need allies and it seemed the scissores might be of similar mind. But it was a dangerous matter, one to be discussed in private, behind locked doors.

'Take an oath!' Brennus moved closer, eyes fixed on the other's.

'Before all my gods, I swear it.'

The two men clasped forearms, but it was no time for sentimentality.

'Let's get inside before those archers get restless.'

Sextus strode off to gather his men.

Romulus was trying to think of ways to win over enough gladiators to silence Memor for ever. There is no future in this, he thought, gazing at the bloody figures on the sand. Spartacus had the right idea. Seize freedom.

The setting sun had turned the dead a dark shade of crimson. As they watched, the intimidating shape of Charon entered, stopping purposefully by each corpse. Each time the ferryman's hammer came down, Romulus heard the sickening crunch of breaking bone.

He looked away.

'Claiming them for Hades.' Brennus curled his lip. 'Making sure none are playing dead.' He leaned in close. 'Lucky not to be lying there myself. That retiarius would have done for me. I'm in your debt, Romulus. Again.'

'It was nothing.' Feeling awkward, he changed the subject. 'Memor really has it in for you, eh?'

'The bastard has been waiting for me to step out of line. This just gave him an excuse to finish it. With Figulus and friends out for blood as well. ' Brennus wiped his brow. 'Life will be quite interesting from now on.'

'I meant what I said earlier.'

'Freedom?' Brennus' face brightened, then sagged as he thought of Astoria. 'Impossible.'

Romulus sighed. The futility of gladiator life had been brought home as never before by the mass combat. He needed support to have any chance of escape and the Gaul was crucial to this. But Memor's punishment seemed to have knocked the fight out of him. He would have to be patient and work on Brennus gradually. Men would follow more easily if the ludus' champion fighter was involved.

Romulus would not rest until he was free.

In the rest days that followed, Memor swaggered round the school, a broad grin on his scarred face. He had received a large sum from Pompey and the victory would have gained the ludus considerable respect in the Roman public's eyes.

For three days all the gladiators except Brennus were rewarded with extra rations of food and wine. Prostitutes were allowed to visit their cells. Training sessions for those who had fought were cut to just one hour daily. The baths were open to all, a privilege normally reserved for elite fighters. These gestures were universally acclaimed by the tired men, who had risked their lives yet again for the honour of the ludus.

'Out of my sight, you little bastard!' Memor scowled one afternoon as he caught sight of Romulus. The lanista suspected he had played a part in the deaths of Gallus and the others but had no proof. 'Plotting to kill more of my best fighters?'