Read Online Gladiator: Vengeance by Simon Scarrow - Free Book Online Page A

Put down the sword.’
    Lupus did as he was told and Marcus stood directly in front of him, in a crouch. He raised his right hand and placed his palm on Lupus’s chest. ‘This is what you are doing at the moment.’
    He gave a firm shove and Lupus lurched back slightly and recovered.
    ‘And this is what you need to do.’ Marcus braced himself and punched his hand out, twisting slightly as he threw all his weight behind the blow. Lupus went flying back and thudded to the ground. He lay there a moment, gasping, and then struggled up on to his elbow and stared at Marcus with a hurt expression.
    ‘What did you do that for?’
    ‘To teach you a lesson,’ Marcus replied sternly. ‘If you don’t strike properly in a fight then you will lose. You will die. Better to learn that here and now. Get up and have another go. This time strike the target like you mean it. That trunk is Decimus. Him or any other person that has ever given you cause to hate them. Hit it hard, with your whole body thrusting through the sword. Pick it up and get to work.’
    Lupus rose to his feet and looked at Marcus with a flash of hurt pride and anger in his eyes. He reached down for the wooden sword and resumed his place in front of the tree.
    ‘Begin!’ Marcus ordered.
    ‘Hah!’ Lupus grunted as he stabbed forward and the point struck the tree loudly. He drew the blade back and hacked at the side with a sharp thwack. Then the other side, then another thrust, grunting each time with the effort.
    ‘That’s it.’ Marcus nodded. ‘Keep doing it just like that until I say stop.’
    He watched a moment longer and then moved off to stand beside Festus who had been looking on.
    ‘What do you think?’ he asked quietly.
    Festus was silent a moment before he replied. ‘I think you would have made a formidable gladiator instructor, young Marcus. You might want to think about that when this is all over.’
    Marcus shot him a surprised look. ‘No. I’ll never train a person to fight another to the death just to entertain a crowd. I swear it by all that’s sacred.’
    The earnestness with which he spoke seemed to amuse Festus and he chuckled and shook his head. ‘A pity.’
    Marcus did not think so. Inside his stomach churned as he recalled the terror that had gripped him each time he’d been called upon to fight for his life. No one should have to endure that just to amuse other people. No one. He felt disappointed in Festus for even suggesting that he might want to be a part of the dark world of the professional gladiators. And a slight doubt crept into his regard for the man. Over the last few months he had come to assume that Festus believed in the same things as he did. He reminded himself that Festus had beenCaesar’s man long before Marcus knew him, so his first loyalty would always be to the Roman aristocrat. There was a fundamental difference in outlook between Festus and himself. One that could prove very dangerous if ever Festus discovered that Marcus was the son of Spartacus.
    He drew a deep breath and forced himself to turn his thoughts to more immediate matters. ‘I meant, what do you think of Lupus? Has he got the right stuff?’
    Festus regarded the other boy as he ferociously attacked the tree trunk. ‘It’s too early to say. Keep him at it, and he might make himself useful one day. Work him hard until dusk, and then we can all rest, ready for the road tomorrow.’
    He turned and began to stride off.
    ‘Where are you going?’ Marcus called.
    ‘I’ve something of an appetite for those hares. I’m getting some more. Make sure you keep the fire going.’
    Marcus watched him disappear into the trees and returned his attention to Lupus whose blows had begun to slacken.
    ‘Keep at it! Use all your strength. You can rest when I tell you, and not before!’
    Lupus tossed the slender bones of the hare aside and used the hem of his tunic to dab the grease from his mouth.
    ‘That was delicious.’ He smiled contentedly. ‘Best