damn war upon my people.” Gaius’ strength seemed to be failing him, but he found enough to stay on his feet and stand against Calfax.
“Brave words, boy, but Rome is not innocent, nor are its people. Your damn Republic has stolen everything from me and many more like me; our lives, our loves, our honor and dignity!” Calfax’s words grew angrier as he started hacking away at Gaius’ defenses. Each savage blow felt like hammer strikes against Gaius’ weakening arms.
“I will slaughter your men, your women and your children for as long as the gods allow me, until I no longer draw any breath. I will see every Roman dead; your wretched Republic destroyed and every last stone in your filthy city torn down. I will make you
Gaius’ wrist shattered under the onslaught as he screamed in agony, not so much out of pain, but in knowing he was done — defeated by a man more powerful and skilled than he could ever hope to be.
His sword lied by his side as Gaius dropped down to his knees, cradled his aching wrist. He glanced around him for a moment as all sound seemed to be muffled. He saw the growing crowd of gladiators as they cheered for Calfax, and roared as new opponents stepped up and challenged the two other Romans.
Gaius watched, unable to do anything as one gladiator snuck up behind Cato and thrust his sword through his lower back. His screams were silent even though Gaius could see that his mouth was wide open, but he heard nothing.
Another man attacked Cato from the front, pushing his spear into the Roman’s chest, and then withdrew it only to thrust in once more.
Cato was still alive as he dropped to the ground, his bloodied face staring up at Gaius, seemly calling out to him.
Gaius turned his eyes towards Maurus, his oldest friend within the Sixth Legion. He fought one man, sword to sword, but failed to see the second man in time as he cut into Maurus’ lower back, which sent a stream of blood squirting out from the wound as Maurus turned and jammed his sword into the man’s face.
A second strike came from behind once again, this time piercing into his upper left shoulder. His sword fell from his grip the moment the enemy weapon was withdrawn from his flesh.
Another man rushed forward and kicked Maurus across his face. He fell down to the ground as a group of four men started beating him violently with their feet, roaring with cheers and laughter as they did so. Neither Cato nor Maurus would be allowed to die quickly. Their torment was going to go on as long as the gladiators saw fit.
Gaius then turned back and looked up at Calfax, who was walking over to him as he was rested down on both of his knees. And for a moment as he stared at the old gladiator, he felt as he had when he was a kid, after watching this same man slaughter five other opponents with hardly any efforts on his part. Calfax was born for killing. It was his art, and he was a world-class master.
“You were not the best I’ve fought, Roman, nor were you the worst. I hope that may give you some comfort before the end, my young friend,” Calfax said as he readied to run his sword across Gaius’ neck.
As the end was about to come, Gaius could feel the air changed from the murderous joy of the gladiators, to one of panic. Something was happening, not near enough for him to see, but everyone knew something was wrong as men started yelling, subsequently screaming, and after that, dying in droves as the ground rumbled as five hundred Roman horsemen came charging through the camp.
The gladiators tried to react but most turned and ran the second they saw the first horsemen tear through their ranks, tents and any other object that was set before them. And then, large groups of Romans, the freed prisoners clutching whatever they could find, roaring with rage as, they dog-piled anyone who was unfortunate enough to be in their way.
Calfax was distracted long enough that Gaius acted quickly, and despite the pain, he was in, he leapt to his feet and charged headlong.
Calfax didn’t have time to react as his swords were knocked free as Gaius collided into him, carrying him several feet before the two men slammed against the side of a nearby tent. The supports weren’t strong enough to stand against the two men combined weight and momentum. It collapsed around them, but it was Gaius who was able to get out first.
He quickly staggered back to his feet as the fabric enveloped Calfax, who struggled to free himself.
Gaius frantically looked for a sword, but settled for a spear that was lying nearby. When he grabbed it, his intention was to turn back and run it through Calfax’s body, but he couldn’t as another gladiator ran towards him in a drunken charge — yelling at the top of his lungs.
Gaius impaled the man easily, but under his weight, the spear broke as he dropped to the ground.
Another gladiator was about to attack Gaius, who was now defenseless, but before this man could, he was struck dead-center by a javelin. The force alone threw the man off of his feet as the long iron shaft stuck out of his chest.
Gaius turned as he heard his named called by the Roman, who had just saved his life. The rider tossed him a sword as he snatched it out of the air. By now, however, as he turned back to where he left Calfax, the man was gone. For a moment, Gaius thought about racing after him, but his thoughts quickly returned to the mission at hand.
He ran over to where both Cato and Maurus lay. Maurus was already on his feet, standing over Cato, who was screaming in agony.
As Gaius looked down at his officer, he didn’t know if the man could survive the next hour. So, there was no time to waste as he signaled for a group of riders to come over to him.
Seven in all arrived and quickly dismounted and awaited orders.
“The consul, he and his slave are in this tent. Get both out of here at once. And take both Cato and Maurus with you,” Gaius yelled, relaying his orders over the chaos that had erupted from all around them.
“I am fine. I can stay and fight!” Maurus pleaded, even though he had his hand held over the gash across his stomach, which was still oozing blood.
“No, you are not! And you are not staying here either in this condition. You have your orders. Get the consul out of here — Now!”
Maurus didn’t argue as he was helped onto the back of one horse, while Cato’s body was dropped over the rear of another. A moment later the slave Claudia exited the tent escorted by a Roman, while two other carried Paullus’ body between them.
“Go! And do not stop for anyone until you have made it to our column!” Gaius yelled as the riders reared their horses and galloped back towards where the battle had started from.
Gaius waited, making sure that the riders had gotten out of the camp, or at least as long as he could see them before they were enveloped by hundreds more horsemen and infantry on the ground. Then, he turned towards a group of two dozen men, some freed soldiers, others belonging to his legion and rallied them as he and they ran off, their destination, the cages that held the rest of the captured men.
The battle had been sudden and many gladiators were already dead, but it was far from over.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Valerius stood under the shadow of one of the rolling hills that surrounded the gladiator camp. The full moon was hung behind the encampment. He strained his eyes trying to fix on any one target, but even with the light of the moon and the surrounding torches, it was difficult this late to identify any particular individual. This concerned him. He wondered if it wasn’t just his age catching up to him. He recalled in his youth that he had eyes like a hawk. However, none of his nearby men who also kept an ever watchful eye on the camp could see anything that might indicate that his plan was exposed. The screams of his countrymen could easily be heard. This was the only real indication that his plan had not been foiled.
As Valerius glanced over towards his awaiting men — a hundred horsemen and two hundred heavy infantry, he could see in each of their eyes their desperate anticipation to race down the hill. They had suffered too many defeats and saw many of their countrymen die at the hands of Hannibal’s army. They wanted — no, needed to bloody their swords, and with each new chorus of cries emerging from the camp, Valerius had to urge his men to be
