the back of the man’s skull. The gladiator’s body hemorrhaged as his death grip held on both sides of the barrel. It was only when Cato removed his sword did the man finally fall down to his knees; his dead weight knocking over the drum in the process.
With that last gladiator dead, Gaius had a clear run to the pit that several dozen Roman prisoners were being held in. They were attached to one another by a series of ropes. Most of them seemed in good health as they were apparently waiting for their turn to be tortured, but hadn’t been harmed beyond that.
One of them noticed Gaius as he hid down low behind a stack of looted crates, taken from nearby towns. The soldier, from what Gaius could tell looked to be an officer, perhaps a centurion, who looked for a long few seconds before he realized that the mud covered man was one of his countrymen.
Gaius held up his finger to his lips and singled for the man to remain quiet, as he wasn’t the only Roman to have noticed him by now.
The centurion nodded and with only a glance of his eyes indicated that there was a guard just out of Gaius’ sight.
Gaius inched forward just enough to poke his head around the stack of crates and saw that one of the gladiators stood guard in front of the pit. He was awake, but seemly just barely, as he had to use the long spear, he held to keep himself propped up.
Another guard sat by the far corner asleep; a spilt clay jug lying next to his feet.
Gaius indicated for Maurus to take care of the sleeping man, while he positioned to take out the standing sentry.
Cato covered their rear.
Gaius felt his heart racing as he neared the standing man. He heard only a faint gushing sound behind him as Maurus ran his knife across the sleeping man’s throat. He didn’t wake, but sat where he had been, seemly still asleep, despite globs of thick blood running down his chest.
The sentry before Gaius yawned, which Gaius used for his advantage. However, as he rose to attack, the gladiator heard him and instantly reacted.
Years in the arena had given the man an uncanny ability to react quickly, as he shifted his stance just enough that the tip of Gaius’ sword missed his neck by a fraction of an inch.
Gaius knew he had ruined his opportunity. The guard would yell and engage him, and even if he managed to kill him, it wouldn’t take much effort for more of the gladiators to come running. Gratefully, on any given day, save for this night, the gladiator might have been an equal match. Unfortunately, for him, the man was so drunk that he lost his balance, as he had dodged Gaius’ first and failed attack that the gladiator tripped over his own feet, falling face down into the mud, which thankfully prevented him from sounding the alarm.
Gaius didn’t give the gladiator the chance to rise to his feet. He slammed his left foot down onto the man’s back, pinning him to the ground, and then shoved his sword through the back of his head. As he turned, Maurus and Cato were already cutting the Romans free.
Gaius hurried over to the centurion who had seen him first and cut the man loose.
“We didn’t know anyone else had survived the battle. Who are you?” the man asked as Gaius helped the officer to his feet.
“Gaius, prefect of the Sixth Legion, and we weren’t at Cannae. We were reassigned the night before,” Gaius answered as he helped free the remaining soldiers.
“Well, I guess that explains that then. I hope there are more of you on the way.”
Gaius smiled as he handed over one of the dead gladiator’s weapons to the centurion.
“Oh, quite a bit more. Do you think you, and your men are up for a fight?” Gaius asked.
“We are, sir.”
Each of the Romans who were with him grinned, and while all were weak and tired, they were indeed ready for some payback.
“Good. I have more men freeing other prisoners and eliminating the sentry posts. A cohort of horsemen will be coming through this camp in about fifteen minutes. When they do, I need you and your men to attack with anything you can find; your teeth and nails if you have too. Kill as many of these bastards as you can — no mercy for any of them. You hear me, soldier?”
“Oh, we hear you, sir,” the centurion smiled.
Gaius was about to turn and head off, but the centurion grabbed his arm and stopped him.
“Wait, sir. You have to free the consul. The slaves are keeping him alive for Hannibal, but I’m sure they’ll kill him the second your men show up.”
“The consul? Which one?” Gaius pondered. For a moment, he silently prayed it might be Varro. Perhaps then, he might be able to get some answers to what happened to Antony, or if he might still be alive, maybe in this very camp.
“Consul Paullus. He was gravely injured in the battle. We managed to get him out of Cannae and were attempting to flee back to Rome when these gladiators ambushed the column.”
Gaius sighed silently to himself, disappointed that it wasn’t Antony’s father, but Paullus instead.
“Where is he?”
“Towards that damn arena they set up…killing my men. I don’t know which of the tents he is being held in, or what his condition is.”
“
Gaius looked around and noticed that the man he had just killed wasn’t all that different, in appearance than himself. Most of the gladiators, in fact, those they had already killed were dirty, bare chest or wearing looted Roman armor, and carrying weapons and gear from the legions. Hell, many of the gladiators were Italians.
Gaius walked to the man, he killed moments earlier and rolled his lifeless body over. He wore a legionnaire’s helmet and fur cape and simple trousers. Both Maurus and Cato saw what Gaius was planning as he stripped the dead gladiator of his things and put them on. They too followed his lead and took clothing and items from the other dead man before they were ready.
“Remember, when you hear our signal, don’t let any of these bastards out of here alive,” Gaius turned and said to the centurion and his men.
“And the signal will be?”
Gaius raised his finger up and held it.
“When the screams you hear now, end, and are replaced by the slaves, that will be your cue.”
Once Maurus and Cato were ready, Gaius turned to each of them.
“Spread out, and try not to act too professional,” Gaius asked with a sly grin. “And if anything goes wrong… well, let’s just make sure nothing goes wrong, okay?”
Both Maurus and Cato acknowledged that they understood before the pair split and stepped out from the shadows and walked freely among the rebels.
Maurus walked to the far right, while Cato took the left position. Gaius walked down the center, all three moving as if they weren’t in the same group, but keeping a safe distance from each other that they could react quickly if something should go wrong.
Gaius grabbed an almost empty clay wine jug that a sleeping gladiator had next to him. He began to walk as if he had been drinking all night, practically tripping over his feet with every other step, to further sell the as he kept his eyes low between taking drinks of his wine as he staggered over towards five men. After a moment, they turned their attention away from him and continued on with their conversation, one of them actually nodding as Gaius passed them.
Gaius breathed again as he looked back. Both Maurus and Cato got by easy enough without even a second glance. He couldn’t help but grin as he saw that Maurus flirted with two women whom he passed, perhaps getting too into his role.
Before long, Gaius was out in the middle of the camp, walking among and through the gladiators’ ranks. For a moment, as two of them came his direction; a nude Roman soldier between each of their arms as they dragged him, kicking and screaming to be tortured, Gaius nearly went for his sword and attacked those men. He knew, however, that he had to ignore it and allow them to continue with their murderous entertainment a little longer. He hoped that the kid could last a few more minutes before help eventually came.
All around him now was the carnage he had only seen from afar. The smell of overcooked human flesh nearly
