made him empty his stomach as he had to struggle not to look over at the burning rows of his countrymen, but it was hard not to.
Gaius looked as a group of gladiators poured oil over one Roman soldier, the man actually spent the whole process cursing and swearing at his captures, calling them every name he could think of. The Roman seemed angrier than afraid, and even as they tossed a burning torch over to his feet, flames engulfing his body, the man was still yelling vulgar words of resentment between his agonizing screams, as his body was roasted.
The biggest mass of people was centered on the makeshift arena. A lot of plundered money was passing hands as the gladiators spent hours placing bets on the Romans they threw down into it. From what he could tell, a fight had just ended, with only one man still alive — a lone Roman, bloodied and covered head to toe in mud was pulled out and tossed back into the holding pin. The man, like many of the other Romans had a blank stare on his face; others shook horribly, even causing self-inflicted wounds to their bodies as they clawed into their wrists, trying to cut their arteries.
Finally, Gaius saw where Paullus might be as a series of small tents, not too different than those he had seen all over the camp, were before him. Even so, at first glance he couldn’t tell which might hold the Roman consul.
Gaius glanced over his shoulder. It was difficult to see either Maurus or Cato among the larger collection of gladiators, but he found them as they kept pace with him. He nodded to them and indicated to the tents. They each replied back with the same gesture as they started their way over to him.
There were no discernible features to any of the tents as each were made of the same leathery material, nor were they set up in any particular pattern. Some tents faced Gaius, as he scanned them with his eyes, while other's back-ends were to him.
He moved closer, trying his hardest to be quick, but not seem too obvious. And then as he walked around one seemly uninteresting structure, he heard what sounded like a woman, one that was yelling in Latin.
Through the thick skin, he listened as best he could.
“
“
Gaius caught sight of Maurus and Cato and nodded to them.
They hurried over to his position as he walked around the tent and saw a man burst out.
Two guards stood outside, staying at their post as the tall gladiator who had exited rushed out of sight a moment later.
Gaius turned back and indicated with just his fingers to Maurus and Cato that there were two targets, and that he would deal with them.
Gaius raised his wine jug and poured its contents over his face and chest. Then, he took a deep breath and moved, pretended as best as he could that he was seriously drunk. He staggered out in front of the two gladiators who stared at him as he wobbled, muttering to himself as he was seemly having a conversation with an invisible partner. The two gladiators laughed as they glanced over at each other, still unaware as to whom Gaius really was.
He turned and faced the two guards and smiled. As he staggered over to them, Gaius threw out his arms as if he was going to give each man a big hug.
“Brothers! War, isn’t it beautiful?! Here’s to our great victory over Rome!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs as he moved towards the two guards, about ready to take another long swig from the wine vase.
Before Gaius reached the two men, however, he tripped over his feet, stumbling forward, falling between the guards and into the tent where he landed on his stomach and purposely broke his clay jug.
Inside, a woman screamed as Gaius’ lump body collapsed to the floor. The two gladiators, each of them smiling entered behind him.
“I think you have had too much to drink, brother,” one of the gladiators said as he reached down to help Gaius up off of the ground.
“I’m not your brother, slave,” Gaius, his drunken expression now totally gone as he turned on his back and shoved the broken handle of the jug into the gladiator’s throat.
The man staggered back, falling against the side of the tent, his hands gripping his throat as he tried in vain to stop the gushing blood that came out of his neck.
“You fucking bastard!' the second gladiator yelled, but before he could draw his sword, Maurus appeared behind him, thrusting his own blade into the man’s lower back, before letting him fall dead.
“Move the bodies in here, quickly — and silence that one,” Gaius said as he stood back to his feet.
Maurus grabbed the man he killed and dragged him further into the tent, stashing his body in the corner while Cato walked over to the still alive man in the far corner and quickly pushed his dagger into the man’s chest, killing him instantly.
“Good, get outside and stand guard,” Gaius then ordered before he turned and faced the woman, who sat, her back pressed up against the side of the wall.
“Who are you?” she cried out, still panicking.
Gaius raised his finger to his lips and indicated for the woman, who looked to be in her early twenties, to be silent. He could see that she was a slave, as her brand was easily seen on her right shoulder. She was perhaps the body slave to Paullus, loyal to him to a fault, which would explain why she had remained by the consul’s side all this time.
“I am Gaius, and I’m a soldier of Rome,” he answered, his voice low and calm as he moved over towards the frightened woman, whose spirit seemed to lift when he revealed himself to her.
“Who are you?” he asked as he took her hand and helped her off of the ground, before moving her aside so he could look down at the man who lay on the ground, covered by a bear’s pelt.
“I am Claudia. I’m the property of Consul Lucius Aemilius Paullus,” she answered as Gaius examined the man who lay beneath the blankets. His face was swollen and bruised. He had several gashes on his cheeks and forehead as well, and as Gaius lifted the blanket. He saw that the man had been cut up pretty bad. He clearly had a temperature as buckets of sweat beaded down from his deformed brow. He doubted that he would live more than a few days, if that. If he didn’t get Paullus back to Rome, and soon, the state would be without one of its most important leaders for the foreseeable future.
“This is Consul Paullus?” Gaius asked just to make sure.
“Yes. He was injured during the battle. His men escaped with his body. We were attempting to get to Rome, but these…” She seemed lost for words as the woman knelt back down to her knees and started crying.
Gaius turned and tried to comfort her, and to keep her quiet. He couldn’t afford to draw any unwanted attention, not until it was time to move.
Then Gaius heard Paullus utter something as Claudia’s sobbing brought him around.
“Sir, be still. I’m here to take you back to Rome,” Gaius said as he stood over Paullus.
With his one good eye, he leered up at Gaius as if he was trying to place his face, as it was covered with flakes of mud and grit, as well as beaded drops of blood and wine. And then Paullus’ eye widened ever so slightly as he seemed to recognize him.
“Gaius?” Paullus muttered in a low, barely audible voice.
He tried to raise his hand up and touch Gaius’ face as if the physical contact would convince him what his eyes were seeing was real.
Gaius took the consul’s hand and held it.
“Yes sir, it is me, and the whole Sixth Legion is with me as well. They’ll be along shortly, and then we can get you out of here and back to Rome. The city will need you, so you have to stay strong and hold on as long as you can.”
Paullus closed his eye as a single tear ran out of it.
“No…Rome…” His words were spoken with considerable effort, but Paullus’ forced them out. “…needs you. Julia needs you, Gaius…you must…you must protect…” And then he was gone, slipped back into unconsciousness.
Gaius took a moment to compose himself as he looked down at the most powerful man in Rome. He felt helpless.
