The Gladiator - Scarrow Simon (бесплатная регистрация книга txt) 📗

'Who's going to pay us then, eh?'

'He's right!' cried another. 'We'll be out of a bloody job.'

There was a chorus of angry shouts before a voice piped up. We don't need that fat bastard! Let's choose ourselves another governor, boys! Time for a bit of democracy, like.'

There was a roar of laughter and Glabius raised both hands to appeal to them, calling for silence. 'You have to do as I say! I pay you!'

'Not any longer!' a man called out, and then bent down to scoop up a pebble and hurled it at the tax collector, striking him on the shoulder.

'Ow!' Glabius flinched.

Macro spoke quietly to the senator. We ' re losing it, sir. We stay here much longer and that lot will have our bollocks for breakfast.'

Cato's eyes were focused on the tip of the blade as it advanced towards him, gleaming and deadly. The guard would make no mistake this time. In the distance he could hear the drumming of boots on the street as Plotius and his men raced towards the open gate. The guard heard it too, and hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder.

There was no time for thought. Cato acted instinctively. He leaped forward, going low, under the blade, reaching out to grab the guard around the legs and use his weight to throw the man off balance. The impact drove the guard back a pace, but he was solidly built and managed to keep his balance as he glared down at Cato. His blade was still pointed up, so he smacked the pommel down on to Cato's head.

Cato felt his teeth clash heavily as the blow landed with blinding impact. He felt his grip loosen on the guard's legs, even as he willed his fingers to clench into the man's flesh. But for a moment his body was numbed, and he collapsed on to the ground, landing heavily on his side. As his vision began to clear, he squinted up into the light, and saw the silhouette of the guard as he leaned over Cato, sword raised as he shouted,'You are fucked!'

There was a confusion of sounds: boots, the groan of the gate hinges and a sudden grunt and groan of pain. Cato blinked. The guard had gone and he was staring up into a clear sky, and then another blurry shape intervened.

'Centurion Cato! Sir, are you all right?'

'What?' Cato clenched his eyes shut for a moment, willing the dizzy nausea to abate. He felt hands haul him to his feet and hold him there.

'Sir?'

Cato opened his eyes and the anxious expression of Centurion Plotius swam into focus. 'I'm fine. Bit dazed, but I'm fine.'

The auxiliaries were pressing through the gate and spilling on to the open ground inside the acropolis. Cato thrust his arm out towards the Temple of Jupiter, where he could see Macro and the others backing away in the face of a shouting mob. 'Plotius, get your men over there at the double!'

Plotius nodded and swept his drawn sword up as he shouted to get his men's attention. Cato saw a crimson ribbon along the edge of the blade, and glancing down he saw the guard at his feet, the side of his face laid open by a sword cut.

'Tenth Macedonian!' Plotius bellowed. 'Follow me! '

He charged across the flagstones, towards the temple, and his men pounded after him, shields up and spears held ready. Cato ran after them in an unsteady lope, as his sense of balance had not yet recovered from the blow to his head.

Stones were raining down on them now, and Macro and the others had to raise their arms to protect their heads. Glabius turned to run, back towards the administration building. There was a roar from the mob at the sight, and then they surged forwards.

'Sir!' Macro called to Sempronius.' Run for it!'

The two Romans turned and sprinted after Glabius, pursued by the tax collector's erstwhile employees. At the back of the crowd, his friends and cronies hung back with terrified expressions. Glabius puffed into the entrance and ran on, heading towards his office, as if that might save him. Macro was close behind, and realised at once that they would be hounded and killed if they continued. The entrance was a natural choke point. He drew up abruptly and turned round as Sempronius swerved to one side to avoid him.

'Grab that post, sir!' Macro pointed at a broken length of timber in the rubble.

Sempronius snatched it up, hefting it quickly to find a good handhold, and the pair of them faced the mob surging towards the building. Macro spread his feet and held out his dagger, his lips curled into a snarl. There was one man out in front of his comrades, the one who had thrown the first stone, and he slowed as he reached the entrance, then stopped, staring at Macro and Sempronius uncertainly.

The next two men followed his cue and the mob reined in, momentarily quiet as they faced the two Romans.

'Throw down your weapons and back away!' Sempronius ordered.

There was no response, and the crowd glared at him in open hostility. The senator risked a glimpse to his left and saw the first of the auxiliaries running towards the temple.

'Let's kill 'em!' a voice shouted from the back of the crowd. 'Kill

'em now!'

'Wait!' Sempronius thrust out his hand. 'You lay a finger on us and you die! It's all over for you now My men are coming. Look!' He stabbed his finger towards Plotius and his men dashing towards the temple. 'Drop your weapons before it's too late. Those men have orders to kill anyone who resists! Do as I say, drop your swords!'

The crowd was still for a moment, uncertain, and for a moment Macro feared that they might fight, and begin by slaughtering him and the senator. Then there was a clatter as the first sword hit the ground. Then another, and then all the men were dropping their weapons.

'Now back off!' Sempronius called. 'Over there, beside the temple!'

There was a ripple of movement as the men edged away, glancing anxiously at the approaching auxiliaries. By the time Plotius and his men reached the entrance, the ground in front of it was clear.

Plotius saw the scratches and cuts from the stones on Macro and Sempronius's arms. 'You're injured.'

Sempronius shook his head. 'We're fine. Nothing serious. See to the prisoners. Get them off the acropolis as soon as you can. Take them to the amphitheatre. Let them sweat it out tonight and then set them free in the morning. Except Glabius. Find him a nice quiet cell of his own up here and keep him isolated.'

'Yes, sir.' Plotius saluted.

Cato pushed his way through the ranks of the auxiliaries, anxiously looking for Macro. He smiled as soon as he saw his friend and clapped him on the arm.

'I saw them go for you. For a moment there I feared the worst.'

'Feared the worst?' Macro snorted with derision. For a moment he was tempted to make light of it, but instead he shook his head and puffed out his cheeks. 'Fuck, that was close.'

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Over the following days, Cato was charged with organising the ofeeding of the inhabitants of Gortyna, and those refugees camped in the ruins and outside the walls. Having gone through the inventory of the food supplies stockpiled on the acropolis, it was clear that the population could be fed for at least a month. Each morning wagons left the acropolis for distribution points across the city to hand out rations to the waiting queues. The wagons were escorted by sections of auxiliaries, who protected them and ensured that all waited their turn to be given their allotted share of the food.

At the same time, the stocks of food held privately by Glabius's friends were confiscated and the inedible grain and meat that they had been selling was burned in a pit outside the city. At first the merchants had protested, demanded compensation and threatened to present their claims to Rome. Cato coolly invited them to proceed with their threat, and added that he would be sending his own report on their corrupt appropriation of imperial funds, with the collusion of Glabius. The merchants quickly backed down, and some, more mindful than their companions of the harsh justice meted out by the emperor, even offered to repay the small fortunes they had made from the sale of overpriced and spoiled food supplies.