Текст книги "Swords of Rome"

Автор книги: Christopher Buckner

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CHAPTER FOUR

Gaius watched as Antony tried to get his father’s attention. Varro was standing with the men he had been speaking with outside, plus half a dozen other associates. From what he could tell, the men were placing bets on the upcoming bout, the Primus, which normally would be held midday, but had been moved to the evening to signal the end of the festival.

Antony’s efforts to convince his father to allow him and Gaius see the fights were ignored. He wanted to see the gladiators fight as much if not more than Gaius, so he was rather persistent in his endeavor. Gaius, however, was content with taking in his surroundings, enjoying yet another sight of Rome, he had never seen before.

The arena was one of the largest ever built. It was only temporary, constructed for these games, and would be torn down when the Festival of Jupiter was concluded. However, the spectacle was worth remembering. It easily seated over a thousand spectators. Hundreds more could watch the day’s events standing if they could find room. Elegant marble statues of classical Greek, Etruscan and Roman figures stood in every archway, set between enormous arches that stood the height of five men. More food and drink stalls were set inside the arena. Hundreds more men, mostly slaves, toiled below the floor, tending to the beasts, other slaves and prisoners who were to be executed, and the needs of the gladiators; and while the games were nearly over, that fact did not slow the day’s work.

People of all classes, from the poorest Roman citizen to the noble senators and aristocrats, walked shoulder to shoulder through the twisting halls, most carrying food or drink in one hand, and their coins in the other. The spectators eagerly placed coins on their favorite gladiators, or how many slaves and criminals would be devoured by the starving animals in the allowed time. The wagers were varied from a few coins, to a fist full of gold, to the deeds to entire estates. Gaius noticed that the upcoming bout seemed to receive the most attention, as he heard the name Calfaxspoke frequently since he had been watching and listening to those around him.

“Come Varro, come. The match is going to start soon,” Marcus, the fat man who had been latched to Varro like a pet all day, eagerly said. He was like a child who squirmed wanting seeing his favorite hero in person.

“I want to come, father!” Antony demanded once again, but even as his father was quite literally being pulled away by his friends, he turned and demanded that he and Gaius stay where they were, calling back, “I shall return shortly. Remain where you are. Is that understood?”

“This is unfair!” Antony blurted with frustration as he crossed his arms, watching as the crowd swallowed his father from view.

“What can we do about it?” Gaius shrugged as he stood next to Antony.

Antony’s eyes widen as he watched several slaves head down a flight of stairs.

“Come with me. I know where we can get the best seats in the arena.” Antony grabbed Gaius by his hand and led him towards where the slaves had gone.

“Where are we going?” Gaius demanded as he nearly tripped trying to keep up with friend

“Do you want to see the match or not?” Antony yelled back, increasing his speed with each step.

“Of course I do, but your father said that we were to stay where he left us.”

“Bah! We will see the match and return before he knows we were gone.” Already the two boys could see the growing light that cast down on the arena floor, as they ran through the tunnels.

A few minutes later, the boys found what they were looking for as they ran over to a large, closed iron gate on the arena floor. They latched onto the gaps between the bars and lifted themselves up a few steps, so they could get a better look. It was, from their point of view, quite possibly the best seat in the house as they were right on the ground-floor, which at the moment was being circled by three horse-drawn carts, while men in the rear of the wagons tossed fresh loafs of bread into the crowd while a dozen men were quickly sweeping the sand, leveling it for the next bout.

Gaius released any reservations he had a few minutes ago. Now, he looked out at the arena with his mouth open, gazing up at the row upon row of seats, filled with people that cheered as the three carts tossed their goods to them; a sea of fingers eagerly grabbing for anything that was thrown towards them. When the carts emptied, they departed through one of the side gates, leaving the arena.

Gaius and Antony noticed a man with rosy cheeks and a curly bright-red wig step on top of a large podium, and raised his flabby arms as, he signaled for the crowd to be silent. After a few minutes, the mob finally did begin to settle as the editor of the games started to speak. Through the oval arena, his broad voice carried like the wind.

“My fellow Romans, esteemed senators, honored guests, and freedmen, I welcome you to the Games of Jupiter!” The editor paused and allowed the crowd to roar once more, as he nodded his thanks to the audience as their praise was directed towards him.

“This week we have seen blood and much death, and great warriors live and die. Now, I promise you that the final bout of this grand celebration will be one for the ages. Each of you here today shall remember this battle for as long as you shall live. You will one day speak to your grandchildren about it,” the editor boasted joyously, drawing out with his words the magnitude of the final battle. “Without further ado, Rome is proud to present to you, your challengers from the House of Brutus!”

Across from Gaius and Antony, one of the gates similar to the one they were now hanging from opened up. Seconds later, as the crowd began to roar, throwing down flower petals that fluttered like rain, five men, bigger than any Gaius had ever seen, emerged from the darkness and stepped out into the arena; arms help up as the crowd cheered furiously for them.

Antony roared as loud as his lungs could muster, but Gaius' own mouth stayed closed as he studied each of the men, who stood in the center of the arena, in a perfect half circle waiting for their opponent to enter.

The five men, three white, two black-skinned, carried an array of weapons: spears, short Spanish swords, a trident, and small shields that cupped their hands. Two of the gladiators wore large fish-bowl helmets that concealed their faces from view. One of the black-skinned men wore a tight formfitting helmet; while the other dark-skinned man, as well as one of the white men had their heads exposed, wrapped simply by a long brightly-colored cloth, clear for all in the audience to see their scarred but still youthful faces.

Their powerful, well-toned bodies glistened in the falling sun as they stood proud, taking in the endless admiration from the audience who cheered each of their names. They knew what the next match meant, that unlike most gladiator bouts, this one would be fought to the death. However, they waited, absorbing the energy from the crowd, ready and willing to do what was demanded of them for the pleasure of the mob.

“Now, for our main attraction!” the editor called out as the loud as he could; arms raised as the eyes of thousands turned back towards him. “The man you've all come to see. The greatest warrior to walk the Earth since the time of Achilles, Hector, Heracles or Cincinnatus; a man who knows no fear; a man who has defeated a thousand men across the whole of the Republic; a man who needs no introduction – I give you, Calfax of Sparta!”

The announcer’s words were easily drowned as the crowd erupted into a thunderous applause that shook the grandstands like an earthquake. Gaius saw a few of the spectators faint as the big Spartan stepped out into the arena and took his position between the five other men, who quickly circled Calfax.

Antony, while he didn’t know who Calfax was, was so swept up in the excitement that he cheered as loud as the audience, or at least tried. Even this low to the arena floor, Gaius could barely hear his friend’s joyful admiration for the gladiator.

The gladiator Calfax wore a tight-fitting Spartan helmet, made of bronze, which was topped with a bright red feathered crest. He was bare-chested; his torso and arms lined with hundreds of scars that stood out even more with the oils that had been rubbed over his body and muscles before he stepped into the arena. In his hand, he carried two swords, no shield. One sword was curved, a falcate, while the other blade was a short dagger, about half the length of the other.

Once the crowd began to die down, each of the gladiators looked up towards the fat editor of the games. He was seated with several other men and women of notice, each dressed in expensive clothing and adorn with jewels and gold. Gaius recognized Varro among them too. He figured they were the financiers of the games, so were awarded the best seats.

Gaius turned his attention back towards the gladiators as each of them spoke the oath, “ We who are about to die, salute you.”

It took Gaius a few moments to realize that Calfax was going to be squaring off against the five gladiators on his own. And as the five men lowered their weapons, staring with focused attention on the lone Spartan, the crowd once again erupted into a frenzy of excitement.

Gaius felt his mouth dry as he watched, never taking his eyes off of Calfax, who stood, seemingly unconcerned. He kept his focus forward, on one of the dark-skinned gladiators who carried the trident, which he twirled, readied to attack any second.

Gaius looked down at Antony, who seemed to be climbing the bars as high as they would take him. He was yelling with the crowd as his eyes were fixated on the six men who were nearly close enough that the two boys could smell their sweat. And then, as Gaius turned, the first strike came, suddenly and without warning.

Gaius felt his heart skip a beat as he watched one of the white-skinned gladiators charge from behind Calfax, who shifted his stance slightly as the first opponent lunged at him. That man’s thrust missed, coming a few inches from piercing the Spartan’s back.

Calfax struck down with his right blade, which cut deep into the man’s upper arm.

The man, who wore no helmet, screamed. However, his cries of pain were silenced a fraction of a second later as Calfax stepped quickly to the side and struck with his dagger, tearing through the nape of the man’s neck, severing his spinal cord before the tip of the blade tore through the front of his throat.

Blood squirted from the wound like a fountain of red water, which sent the crowd roaring as Calfax drew first blood, with amazing speed and ferocity.

Gaius glanced toward Antony once he realized his friend’s cheers had suddenly stopped. What he saw now was a pale-faced young boy bent over near the corner of the gate, vomiting up everything the two had eaten before the fight.

As he turned back around to the arena floor, Calfax ran his dagger through the stomach of the second dark-skinned man. His entrails spilled out from his gut, which the gladiator tried in vain to keep inside his body. However, Calfax ran behind him before he thrust his blade in between the man’s shoulders, silencing his screaming.

A sword came at Calfax’s head as his back was turned momentarily. Sensing that the strike was coming, he ducked just in time as the blade sliced across the red crest of his helmet.

Calfax sliced his sword across the man’s knee before he dropped hard onto the ground, clutching his wound as tendons were easily cleaved.

As Calfax rose back to his feet, he drove his bloodied dagger into the man’s face, sticking him through the left eye, where he kept the blade.

Gaius continued to watch as the remaining two gladiators struggled to overpower the veteran, who, despite his age was as nimble as a cat. A moment later, another man, the largest in size and height went down from another series of savage blows from Calfax, who drove the edge of his sword across the man’s throat.

The last gladiator, the dark-skinned man who carried the trident lunged forward, hoping to catch the Spartan off guard. As before, Calfax’s uncanny sense of the battlefield did not fail him as he weaved away from the heavy iron tips of the trident.

The crowd released more of their building rage of excitement as Calfax swung down with his sword, cleaving into the dark-skinned man’s wrist. The sword, now duller than it had, could not cut all the way through the bone, but on the second strike, the hand separated from the man’s body, hanging loosely by a narrow strip of skin.

The dark-skinned man screamed in agony as he lost his grip on his weapon. The audience went wild with anticipation as Calfax stood poised before the quivering gladiator as a stream of hot piss ran down his leg.

Gaius was close enough to hear the dark-skinned man begging for his life, or so he assumed. He spoke a dialect that he’d never heard before, but regardless Calfax held no mercy for the man who cradled his severed hand in his other.

Calfax swung; the tip of his sword sliced across the dark-skinned man’s throat. Blood squirted out, splashing over Calfax’s body like rain as he stood where he was, looking down at the defeated man, who choked on his own blood. It was not a quick death as the dark-skinned man’s agony lasted several more painful moments before Calfax raised his sword, and plunged it into the man’s gullet, ending him.

Gaius did not blink, not once as he watched Calfax claim his victory. He did not enjoy the show, not like he thought he would, but he wasn’t mortified by it either, unlike Antony.

As the cheering crowd stood to their feet, Calfax removed his helmet, allowing the adoring audience, and Gaius to see his bald, scarred and one-eyed face clearly for the first time.

Flowers drifted down across the arena floor as the mob showered Calfax with their admiration, respect and fear of a man who was impossibly powerful and deadly. He did not seem. However, to care for the affection that was being bestowed on him. He looked down at the dead that lied on the floor; the thick pools of blood and guts, mixed with flesh and bone covered the sandy floor of the arena, showered by the beauty of the flowers turned Calfax’s stomach. And then Calfax turned his gaze toward Gaius.

For a moment, their eyes locked, and for the first-time, Gaius truly felt fear as he looked into the single good eye of the man, he had watched kill so easily, and without mercy.

As Calfax flared at him, he saw nothing but hatred in his soulless eye, that if he could, the Spartan would kill every Roman, man, woman and child. No matter, how much applause he might receive, even now, as his name was hailed, Calfax was a slave.

He finally pulled his gaze away from Gaius, turning once the far gate was opened, allowing him to leave the arena as several men rushed out with hooks in hand to drag the bodies back inside. A moment later the fat editor of the games returned to his podium and began his closing statements to the adoring crowds.

By now, Gaius lost interest in hearing anything more. He stepped away from the barred gate and turned his attention towards Antony, who sat with his back up against a wooden support beam, clutching his stomach with both hands.

“Is it over?” Antony asked as he looked up at Gaius.

“Yes, it is over,” Gaius replied as he reached down and lifted his friend to his feet. “We had better get you cleaned before your father sees you like this, or it will be both of our backsides that feel his wrath.”

Antony nodded as he and Gaius left, having seen what they wanted. Now, both just wanted to forget what they’d witnessed and salvage their day before they had to head back to the country, leaving the wonders of Rome behind.

CHAPTER FIVE

The summer sun was high as Gaius, along with Antony and Julia walked along the crumbling stone wall that led up to his modest home. The same slave who had watched over the trio during their time in Rome was with them now, escorting Gaius home as Varro had ordered.

Gaius was returning about the time that his father had instructed him before he left for the city. While he wished his time in Rome could have lasted longer, he did not want to overextend his experience quite yet. Now, with his head swelled with memories of the past two days, he regretted having to leave so soon when he was just starting to see all the wonders the capital had to offer.

Gaius had seen death before, mostly animals he and his father hunted in north. He even saw a man die once; well, a man who was still a boy, only three years older than he was now.

A season ago, Julius had been called north by a former soldier friend to help hunt down a pack of wolves that had been terrorizing the local farmers. Since leaving the military his father took dozens of such jobs. However, this was the first job he had taken since Gaius’ mother had died, and with no one else to look after him, Julius decided to bring him along; a journey Gaius had looked forward to as much as he had for Rome.

On the third day of the hunt, after they had come back with four dead wolves, their pelts hanging over the side of one horse, a boy named Claudius, the son of Julius’ friend fell suddenly from his horse as it was spooked by a snake which lay along the side of the road.

Gaius remembered watching the boy’s horse rear up, throwing Claudius off its back. He had no chance to recover. It all happened so quickly that when he hit the ground, his head cracked open against a rock. Claudius was gone, just like that.

He remembered watching the boy’s father cry to the heavens, smashing the snake to little pieces of bloodied flesh, even slicing the horse’s throat for it panicking. Even so, like yesterday, Gaius stood, watching, not mortified by seeing the boys’ brain and blood splattered across the dusty road. He had assumed that after his mother’s long-suffering illness that anything related to death would ever bother him again, and so far, it hadn’t.

The fates were strange beings, his father had once said. One moment a boy was with his father chasing down wolves, riding home to celebrate, and the next moment his ashes were being spread across the earth after a quick and pointless end.

Gaius hoped that like those five gladiators, he might be able to see his death coming, and perhaps fight to prolong his life. Staring death down, shaking a fist in its face, that was how he hoped he would go, not meaningless because a snake just had to lay in the road and spooked a young mare.

For the moment, Gaius tried to block the memories of what he had seen yesterday and years before, and enjoy the time he had now with his friends.

Julia ran up beside Gaius and pushed into his hands several flowers that she had plucked from the side of the road.

“For crying out loud, would you leave him alone already!” Antony blurted as he reached to smack his sister, but she ran off, giggling as she darted behind the older woman who followed them closely.

Gaius smiled as he couldn’t help but smell the flowers he now held in his hand. He looked back at Julia, who was fast at work once more, as she filled her hands yet again with another arrangement of summer flowers, lost in her own little world.

“Gosh! She can be such as pain in the ass,” Antony moaned.

“It’s okay, really. I don’t mind at all. She is in her own world without a care.” Gaius looked back at Julia, enjoying her carefree exploration of his lands, not carrying about the sorry state it was in. Something about her spirit always seemed to lift his. He hoped she stayed this way, innocent and fearless. He couldn’t help but wonder what the future might hold for the two of them as they grew older. He found himself thinking more and more about that with each new day, a question that was starting to haunt him that at times, he was eager to grow so he may have his answer: would her affection always be this strong toward him, or would it lessen as her world revealed more to her than a simple farm boy could ever provide.

“Hey, it looks like you have some company,” Antony commented as he looked up towards Gaius’ home, which finally came into view.

Gaius had to put his hand over his brow, so he could see through the bright glare of the sun. Indeed, he saw two horses standing outside, each one packed with enough supplies to last a week.

“I wonder who it could be,” Antony pondered as, he and Gaius quickened their pace.

“I do not know. We don’t typically get many visitors,” Gaius replied, curious, as he kept his eyes ahead. It was just then that he recalled his father, when last he saw him mentioning that someone was coming on this day, and for whatever reason he insisted in him meeting the stranger.

As the three friends came nearer to the small home, Gaius could see that the horses had been branded with the seal of the sixth legion, with a second mark under it that read, S.P.Q.R. The larger of the two was black and looked as if it could carry a heavy individual wearing full armor and kit, while the second was lighter and smaller, more a beast for someone's Gaius’ age.

Antony and Julia remained with their slave as Gaius approached his front door. He couldn’t shack the bad feeling that was brewing in the pit of his stomach. And then, as Gaius went to reach for the door handle, it was pulled open before he could reach it.

Gaius stumbled back, eyes wide as a large man stood before him, seemingly not noticing the boy who had to tilt his head; eyes panicked as Gaius squared himself, fist clenched into a tight ball.

The burly man was about the age of Gaius’ father, only a bit larger and with a thick grayish beard. He wore a lion-skinned cloak over his shoulders; its paws dropped down over his chest, which was covered with a loose-fitting, brown leather chest plate, which bore the same engraving of the white wolf that Gaius had seen several times. It was, however, what was in the man’s hand scared him the most, a small dagger.

As the stranger finally looked down, Gaius could see a long scar that ran from the top of his brow and ending just above his cheekbone. It seemed recent, and gave him a menacing appearance.

At first, the man’s expression hardened his stare cold as he studied the boy who was standing before him, and then he spoke.

“You don’t look like much. I expected you to be bigger by now,” the man said in a deep and raspy voice.

Gaius could smell the scent of cheap wine coming off of the man’s breath as he spoke.

“I guess it could be worse. You could have taken after your father,” the old soldier then laughed as his expression suddenly changed to a friendly grin.

The man raised his knife to his other hand and sliced a piece of dried beef, before putting the meat into his mouth and began to chew; with a big grin as he continued to take in Gaius, who stood like a statue.

“Very funny coming from someone with a face like yours,” Julius spoke from behind the old soldier, which too sounded as if he had been drinking all day.

Julius stepped out, moving the other man aside so he may stand in the doorway. His hand was placed on the stranger’s shoulder as he looked down at Gaius with a big, uncharacteristic smile that reached from ear to ear.

“Gaius, I would like you to meet an old friend of mine, Legate of the Six Legion, Claudius Augustus Valerius.”

“You said that already,” Valerius mused. “And actually, I have met you once before, lad. Only then you were too young to remember me as you were just a little nip, still suckling on your mother’s breast.”

Gaius’ face hardened, not liking the picture that formed in his head as Valerius knelt down and extended his hand. However, he refused to take it.

“Now don’t be rude, Gaius,” his father spoke.

Gaius hesitated for a moment, but then obeyed his father and reluctantly accepted Valerius’ gesture of friendship. As he took the legate’s wrist, he tried as best he could make sure his grip was tight, but compared to the veteran, he might as well be a bug standing next to a bear.

“Well, we need to fatten him up, put some muscles on him and hair on his chest before we can call him a soldier,” Valerius chuckled as he stood to his feet

“He comes from fine Gallic stock,” Julius added.

“That he does,” Valerius laughed as he tapped Julius’ shoulder, stepping aside as he walked over to his horse.

“Well old friend, I will be waiting out here. Take all the time you need.”

“Are you leaving?” Gaius asked a bit rudely, but neither his father nor Valerius took notice of it.

“Come inside, Gaius. There is something very important that I need to talk to you about.”

“What about my friends?” Gaius asked, sounding more than a bit nervous.

“They can remain out here. Come now.” Julius placed his hand on Gaius’ shoulder and urged him into the house, before closing the door. Both Antony and Julia looked on with concern, but they weren’t leaving as both settled in for the wait.

Gaius watched as his father cleared the table, moving aside several empty wine jugs, before pulling the stool out.

“Sit down, son. There is something that I need to talk to you about.”

“Father?” Gaius spoke nervously, but he did what he was asked as Julius move to the other side of the table and took his normal seat.

“Who is the man outside, father?” Gaius spoke first as Julius interlocked his fingers, looking unsure about how to begin their discussion.

“He is a Roman soldier, commander of the Six Legion, my former legion when I served the Republic. We fought together during the last war and many before, and as I said, he is a dear friend of mine.”

“I do not recall you ever speaking of him before this day,” Gaius noted.

“I know, and that is my fault. Nevertheless, believe me, son, I trust no one more in this world, aside from yourself, than I do Valerius. He is as close to me as blood and, well…” Julius paused as he tipped over one of the wine jugs, seeing that it was empty.

“Why is he here? Is he just visiting then?” Gaius asked, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. Otherwise, his father wouldn’t be acting the way he was.

“No, I asked him to come here some weeks ago. I’ve… I have come to a very difficult decision that concerns you, Gaius.”

“What is it?”

“You see, Gaius…Damn, I wish this was easier to say.”

“Just tell me, please.” Tears were already beginning to form under Gaius’ eyes as he eagerly awaited to hear what troubled his father so much that he held his tongue, afraid to speak.

“I’m dying, Gaius. I don’t know how else to say it.”

Gaius’ eyes opened wide as tears began to fall, rolling down the side of his cheeks. Flashes of his mother’s passing flooded his mind, seeing her so sickly, waiting, and even wishing the gods would take her, just so he didn’t have to see her suffer much longer. He knew what his father said was the truth, his heart told him. He knew for a long time: his father’s difficulties sleeping, his apparent weakness, his headaches and fainting spells, but he prayed to the gods that it would pass. Clearly, Julius knew it would not.

“Why? You can’t be. You just can’t…Why do you say such a terrible thing?” Gaius balled.

“I’m sorry, son. I don’t know how else to tell you. The gods have deemed it fit that my time on the earth comes to its conclusion. I don’t know when, exactly, but I do know it will be sooner than either of us wants it to be. I won’t be able to take care of you, and you’re still too young to take care of yourself. I have to look out for your safety and try to ensure you have a future.”

Julius stood from his stool and walked over to Gaius, dropping down to one knee and tried to look at his son in the eyes, but Gaius turned his head away, not wanting to let his father see him cry.

“There is nothing that can be done. I’m grateful for the time that I was allowed. I should have died a long time ago. It was only by the grace of the gods that I was given this time, to find a woman I loved, and for her to give me a son that I care so much for, even if I’ve failed to express it as I should have.”

Gaius lowered his head as he couldn’t control himself. He wanted to be strong and not cry, but his father’s words ran through him like knives, more painful than anything since his mother’s passing.

“I’m sorry, son, there was so much that I wanted to teach you; I wanted to show you. We’ve had little time, and I fear that I was not always the father whom you needed me to be, not since your mother left this world. However, I won’t leave you alone, not ever. That man outside, Valerius, he will watch over you like you were his own. He will do this because we are close as any two men can be without being brothers by blood. He will teach you everything you need to know; how to survive in this world. He will guide you down the path of honor; you will become a great warrior who will stand for his country, and one day, a long time from now you will lead men who you will pass the knowledge you’ve learned, as Valerius will you.”

Julius placed the palm of his hand on Gaius’ face, turning it towards him, so he could look into his son’s eyes.

“I know you want to stay with me – I can see that in your eyes. However, I will not allow you to watch me die, Gaius. Your destiny lies elsewhere, even if you can’t entirely understand why I am doing this now. Even so, you will understand, someday. You will understand the gift that I’m giving you. You will have a life, a purpose and be able to stand for something greater than ourselves. Will you be strong for me, Gaius?”

He tried to hold back his already flowing tears just for a moment as he looked into his father’s own saddened eyes, and answer him.

He did not want to agree. He did not want to leave him alone to die. He did not want to start down the path that his father and Valerius wanted. Gaius fought to stand and tell his father that he refused what he was saying, and that he would stand by his side until the end. However, as Gaius looked at his father, he could see the pain that he was in, and that, deep down, while he did not want Gaius to leave, he knew it was for the best.

Gaius rubbed his tears from his eyes and wiped his cheeks, before he found the courage to answer.