Carefully putting Paullus’ limp hand under the covers of the warm blanket, he turned back towards Claudia and spoke.
“Here,” Gaius reached behind his back and removed his dagger, which was sticky with blood, and handed it over to her. “Take this, and if anyone other than me or a Roman comes into this tent, kill them. Do you understand?”
“I am just a slave?” Claudia commented as she reluctantly took the dagger.
“Not tonight you are.”
Claudia nodded as she held the dagger; its weight feeling strange in her hands.
“Thank you,” Claudia said before he left.
“Don’t thank me right now. We aren’t out of this yet,” he answered truthfully before leaving her and the consul alone once more.
“Was it, him?” Maurus asked as he stood to the right.
“It is. Be ready. If what our man said was true, when Valerius attacks, they will come and kill Paullus the first chance they get.”
“Just the three of us, against all of them?” Cato asked, the veteran sounded nervous.
“Is that a hint of fear I hear in your voice, my friend?” Maurus asked with a chuckle.
“Up yours, brat! I will kill more than you this night, which I promise you.”
“We’ll see about that, old man,” Maurus sneered as he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Gaius knew that the time was fast approaching. If everything went according to plan, which he assumed it had, since life in the camp handed changed with a sudden alarm, all the sentries must have been terminated, most of the Romans freed, and any second now Valerius and hundreds of men would come storming through the camp. And afterwards, the true slaughter could begin.
The only problem was Valerius was late.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“The old man gave us one hour, right?” Maurus asked as he started to fidget some as he noticed that a few of the gladiators had glanced over at them, staring longer than he was comfortable with.
“I know he isn’t as quick as he used to be, but he is coming, right?” Maurus nervously asked again.
“Just shut up and do your fucking job,” Cato bellowed as he stared-down any man who glanced over at him.
Gaius, on the other hand, remained silent. His eyes were fixed on one gladiator who walked with a group of four other men. He then realized this man was the same that had exited the tent, before he had killed the two guards who had originally been posted here.
“Oh no,” Maurus muttered as he watched the man stop in his tracks, and turn towards the three Romans.
“Be calm. I will deal with this,” Gaius uttered under his breath.
“Where are Dougal and Torin? I told them not to leave their posts,” the man called with a rough Greek accent.
The gladiator was very tall, muscular, badly scared and twice Gaius’ age. More imposing was the fact that this man was built like a bear. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat on his body, which had been hardened by decades of battles won in the arena. And for a moment as the man and his escorts neared, Gaius thought that he recognized him as well.
His eyes flashed red when he saw the medallion, knowing what it meant: this man had killed Antony and took the bond that represented a brotherhood of two boyhood friends.
“I said…” the gladiator tried to say, but Gaius roared as he drew his sword and rushed the tall man, whose eyes opened wide with surprise.
Gaius heard between his blood rage the name
Calfax just barely heeded his man’s warning as he stepped back, but not far enough as Gaius’ sword ran across his stomach.
The blade went deep, but not deep enough to cause any serious harm to him. He had worse injuries and in time, it would just be another scar to add to the many hundreds more that crisscrossed his body.
“Bloody hell!” Maurus cried out as he and Cato each drew their swords and rushed forward, joining Gaius as they attacked the four other gladiators who tried to protect Calfax.
As Calfax withdrew from Gaius’ first assault, the nearest gladiator who had accompanied him stepped up. He swung wildly, which forced Gaius to cancel his attack on Calfax.
The second strike came quickly but Gaius easily deflected the gladiator’s horizontal strike that, when his sword, a weaker Greek weapon was pushed aside. Gaius spun in the opposite direction and struck low as the tip of his blade sliced cleanly through the back knee of the first gladiator.
The man screamed as all two hundred and fifteen pounds of him dropped to the ground like a rock. Gaius then easily drove his sword down into the man’s shoulder, angling the blade so it tore through his vital.
The flesh was soft and the iron of his blade easily pierced through the man’s dark skin and as Gaius withdrew his blade, blood gushed out, squirting all over his face, chest and arms. He then turned towards Calfax, who had drawn his own sword, two of them, in fact. He didn’t care that Maurus and Cato had engaged the remaining three gladiators, or that their fight had gotten the attention of dozens of other men, who at first was a little confused to who was attacking their leader.
“You killed him!” Gaius accused as he moved towards Calfax, who now grinned at the younger Roman.
“I’ve killed many Romans, boy, and I don’t bother asking any of them for their names,” Calfax stated.
“His name was Antony, and he was my friend!” Gaius attacked, but his violent blows were blocked easily by the senior fighter.
Calfax didn’t counterattack. He was enjoying the Roman’s rage, seemly feeding on it as Gaius’ abandoned years of training, discipline and careful practiced form. He just wanted blood.
“I will take back what is his!” Gaius bellowed again as he rushed in, swinging his sword in a series of deadly arcs that failed to get through Calfax’s decades of practice, and hundreds of won battles.
“Oh,” Calfax started to laugh uncontrollably as it dawned on him what Gaius was blabbering about. “It is this you are talking about?” He indicated to the medallion that had fancied his eyes at Cannae, the very one he had taken off from Antony’s still warm corpse.
“He was a weak one. Young and suckle. He should have been sucking on his mother’s tits than pretending to be a soldier,” Calfax mocked, which infuriated Gaius even more as he rushed forward, trying to bring the bigger man down with brute force, but Calfax struck, his blade ripping through Gaius’ right upper arm, forcing him to rear back. Stubbornly, Gaius attacked again, and once more Calfax cut him, this time across his back.
The cuts weren’t deep enough to keep him down, but it was enough to further break Gaius’ concentration, weakening what advantages he might have had to stand equal.
A large crowd gathered. They knew that their leader, the best among them would want to deal with the young and arrogant Roman himself, so instead, most turned towards Maurus and Cato, who desperately tried to hold their own against an increasing number of opponents. If the gladiators had rushed they could have killed the two Romans easily, but they thought that the three were only escaped prisoners, so to them this was just another game to play. They would break them down like a pack of wild dog's hunting, waiting for Cato and Maurus to grow tired; their reaction times slower, and then advance for the kill.
Gaius fucked up. He knew it now, and two of his best men were going to pay for his mistake — for his blind rage and momentary madness.
“Your man, he shit and pissed himself as I ran my sword across his throat. I’ve faced better Romans before, but what I’ve seen during recent years, shames me as to how far your kind has fallen,” Calfax taunted as he circled.
“He was no coward, nor were any of my people you slaughtered, slave! They were too young to wear the armor of the legion — they were just boys — boys who childhoods you and your kindred stole when you forced this
