Read Online Arena by Simon Scarrow - Free Book Online Page B

forced to confront the reality of an actual fight to the death, he found his confidence rapidly draining.
    ‘Cheer up,’ Macro said, patting Pavo on the back. ‘You’re going to fight in front of the Emperor, for the glory of Rome, watched by thousands of people. Fights don’t get much bigger. And this is only your first one, you lucky bugger. You should be kissing Fortuna’s arse.’
    Pavo shrugged him off. ‘You have a perverse idea of luck.’
    ‘Just trying to put some fire in your belly,’ Macro said, furrowing his brow at his student’s prickly nature. ‘Look, there’s no point moping about feeling sorry for yourself. If you go into the arena with that kind of attitude, you’ll stand no chance.’
    Pavo shrugged as the sun simmered and swelled on the horizon.
    ‘I don’t deserve this,’ he said, turning away from Macro. ‘Everything that’s happened to me. To my family. First my father. Then me. Now they’ve made a prisoner out of my son. How much more suffering does that wretch Pallas wish to inflict? It’s not fair.’
    ‘Bollocks!’ Macro barked with such venom that it sent a jolt quivering like an arrow up Pavo’s spine. ‘This is Rome, lad. There’s no such thing as fair. Even a high-born boy like you must know that. And yes, I know all about your family squabble. I’m sorry about what happened with Titus. He had respect, even from us hard-to-please men in the Second. But that’s all in the past now, lad. You have to focus on Britomaris.’
    Pavo closed his eyes and sighed.
    ‘Do you know how my father died?’ he asked Macro, keeping his eyes closed, as if he was trying to seek peace in the dark. ‘Did that rat Murena tell you about how Rome treated a man who sacrificed everything to the city?’
    Macro cleared his throat. ‘He told me that Hermes killed your old man in the arena.’
    ‘Killing is putting it rather mildly,’ Pavo muttered. ‘Hermes gutted him like a pig. Cut off his head. When he was done, Claudius had his servants drag my father’s body out of the arena on a hook and dump it in the street outside, as if he were some common thief.’
    Macro cleared his throat again, but said nothing. An awkward silence lingered between the two men. At the far end of the training ground Pavo caught sight of Amadocus leaning against a palus, his hands choking the post as Calamus flogged him repeatedly on his back with his short whip. The other veterans looked on blankly, suggesting that such brutality was commonplace. Amadocus stole a sideways glance at Pavo. He winced as Calamus lashed his back again and drew blood. Then he grinned at the recruit. Pavo gulped and turned back to Macro.
    ‘Everything has been taken away from me, Optio. My old life is gone for ever. But there is one thing I want before I die, and that’s a chance to face Hermes in the arena.’ He turned stiffly away from Macro. ‘I have no quarrel with Britomaris. If he’s giving Murena and Pallas sleepless nights, so much the better. I don’t see why I should help out that pair of devious Greeks.’
    ‘Sod Pallas. Sod Murena. Sod them all. Do this for yourself and for your son.’
    Pavo said nothing. But Macro thought he spotted some weakening in the lad’s hostile stance. He drew closer to Pavo and gripped him by the shoulders.
    ‘Whatever you think, we don’t have time to sit around and talk.’
    Pavo frowned and stepped back from Macro. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Patience is in short supply in the imperial household,’ the optio replied. ‘The Emperor wishes to see Britomaris lose before the month is out.’ He raised a hand to stifle the trainee’s protest. ‘Now I know what you’re thinking. Normally it takes at least six months to prepare a gladiator to fight in the arena, and that’s just so you can face some Egyptian armpit-plucker with a blunted sword, not a vicious bastard like Britomaris. Nevertheless, that’s the way the dice have fallen. Besides, you’ve got the talent, from what I’ve