Barbarian - Scarrow Simon. Страница 19

Pavo fumed, his nostrils flaring with rage. ‘You can’t do this.’

‘Oh, but I can,’ Murena replied condescendingly. He began to turn away from the room. ‘I can do whatever I please. Your victory means that the Emperor is in debt to Pallas, and don’t forget that Pallas is my boss. It would’ve taken years for us to win the complete confidence of Claudius. You’ve helped us achieve it in a mere few months. Thank you, Pavo.’

Pavo simmered with rage. The freedman paused and rubbed his hands together, as if warming them on a cold winter’s night. ‘I suppose it’s all worked out rather well in the end,’ Murena went on. ‘All that remains is for me to take care of loose ends.’ He cast his eyes over Macro and Pavo in turn. ‘As I promised Pallas.’

‘What do you mean?’ Pavo snapped, narrowing his eyes at Murena.

‘The Emperor won’t tolerate the mob chanting the name of the son of a traitor. ‘Murena barked at the Praetorians as he clicked his fingers. ‘Take him away.’ Pavo hung his head low as the guards hauled him to his feet, grabbing a weary arm each. The fight had dimmed in him, Macro noticed. Despair had doused the flames of rage burning inside his belly.

‘Appius. . my boy. .’ the trainee muttered under his breath, his dry lips cracking as the guards manhandled him out of the room and dragged him down the corridor. Away from the arena. Away from the noise and buzz of the crowd chanting his name.

‘Pavo was right,’ Macro growled at the smug Greek when they were left alone. ‘You are a bastard.’

Murena stroked his chin and smiled at Macro, as if he had just given him a compliment.

‘What’s going to happen to him?’ the optio asked.

‘There’s a wagon waiting outside. He’s to return to the ludus in Paestum,’ Murena replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he gazed down the corridor. ‘We’ll find another opponent for him to fight locally, in the more modest surroundings of Paestum’s amphitheatre. Someone with a poor reputation.’

Macro scoffed and folded his arms. ‘What for? Pavo’s a great fighter. Pair him with a low-ranking gladiator and he’ll carve up his opponent in a heartbeat. If you ask me, I say the lad’s been through enough.’

‘Pavo’s survival is an embarrassment to Claudius. He must die,’ Murena said icily. ‘He must die in disgrace, in a way that leaves his reputation in tatters. And you are going to help me achieve that.’

The optio shifted on the balls of his feet and felt his pulse quicken with fear. ‘Why the bloody hell would I do that? I’ve already honoured my end of the deal. I trained Pavo. He won. Now I’m due my promotion, as promised.’

Murena looked back at Macro.

‘It’s not that simple, optio. You know our dirty little secret. And if the mob discover that Claudius tried to poison the new hero of arena, well,’ Murena frowned at his feet, as if a snake was crawling up his leg, ‘Let’s just say they wouldn’t be too happy. Our problem is, can we trust you? You see, the Emperor doesn’t trust people easily. Neither do Pallas or I. Under normal circumstances we’d simply kill you off in a back street and be done with it. But we can’t bump off every hero of the empire. Luckily for you, Rome does need the odd one or two to inspire the mob. So Pallas and I are giving you a chance to prove your loyalty to Claudius.’

‘How do you mean?’ Macro asked, his voice low and uncertain.

Murena grinned as the sound of the crowd slowly died away and the heavy drum-roll of footsteps echoed through the plaza as people made their way to the exits and flooded out into the streets. The freedman said, ‘Since you appear to be a rather effective gladiator trainer, you’re going to train Pavo’s next opponent, optio. You know the young man’s weaknesses. You will train your man to exploit them, so that the mob will see Pavo humiliated, his victory over Britomaris remembered as nothing more than a fluke. You can do that, or you can join Titus in an unmarked grave. The choice is yours. .’