The Forgotten Legion - Kane Ben - Страница 27
- Предыдущая
- 27/109
- Следующая
'You have lost everything.'
The melodramatic words had amused Brennus. So had every fighter in the ludus. Most were free men who had been enslaved.
Before he could stop him, the augur had spoken again. 'A long journey still awaits you.'
Shaken, Brennus had held his breath.
'A journey longer than any of your people have ever taken.' The old man had seemed as surprised as the Gaul by what he was seeing. But his interpretation had remained the same with every divination thereafter.
It had given Brennus some hope.
He tried to remain solitary but men were drawn to his friendly character.
In the ludus' harsh atmosphere, the Gaul's willingness to train others and share useful tips on combat was unusual. While his exalted status helped to make some jealous, many gladiators called him friend. And the year before, fuelled by memories of how Conall had saved his life, Brennus had even rescued Sextus, one of the scissores, from the depths of an uneven mass combat. After that, Brennus became one of the ludus' most popular figures, although he trusted no one.
Things had changed when Astoria had arrived in the ludus kitchen a few months before. Brennus had immediately noticed her beauty and poise. He'd had many women since Liath's death, physical needs in the end overtaking his grief. First he had bought prostitutes with his winnings, then enjoyed rich matrons who flocked to the ludus. The renown of the best prize fighters attracted noblewomen like moths to a flame. Among the wealthy it was considered normal to seek pleasure from those whom they might watch die. While his comrades revelled in the attention, no female had really interested Brennus until he saw Astoria and was captivated by the curves of her ebony body, barely concealed by a ragged shift.
Brennus had quickly claimed the Nubian for his own and had thus exposed a weakness in his emotional armour. Such was the Gaul's reputation that none dared touch Astoria, confining themselves to lewd comments. But her presence was a source of intense jealousy among a small group of less successful fighters. And now, with Memor's threats, Brennus feared more for Astoria's safety than he did his own. He grimaced. Maybe a long bath would help him forget the lanista's menaces.
'Enough.'
The unctor stepped smartly back.
Brennus refilled the purse, tossed him a coin and walked naked into the frigidarium, which held a large, unheated pool. The water was cold enough to make him shiver as he climbed in. With closed eyes, the Gaul ducked his head completely under, knowing it would be refreshing before the heat of the next room.
When he had bathed in the tepidarium, the resident body slave oiled his skin, scraping it clean with an iron strigil. Moving on to the caldarium, Brennus lingered in its steamy atmosphere, sharing the warmth with the other top gladiators. Conversation was muted as the men relaxed, enjoying the intense heat radiating from hollow bricks in the walls and floor. Continuous currents of hot air from the hypocaustum, the nearby underground furnace, ensured the temperature remained constant.
Some time later, Brennus sauntered in better humour from the bathhouse door. Dusk was falling and across the yard his cell door was ajar. Flickering light shone from candles that Astoria would have lit. He smiled in anticipation, imagining her naked.
A woman's scream pierced the air.
It was immediately cut short.
Brennus sprinted across the yard, his drying cloth falling unnoticed to the ground. He ripped open the door to find four of the men he least liked inside. His fears had been fulfilled. Since Spartacus' rebellion, only champion gladiators were allowed to keep weapons in their rooms. And in Brennus' absence it had been easy for the group to overpower Astoria and help themselves to some of his.
Two now waved swords threateningly at the Gaul while the other pair sat on the bed, mauling Astoria with greedy hands. The Nubian's shift had already been ripped off, and she was vainly trying to cover herself with her hands. As she whimpered, he noticed a thick welt rising on her cheek.
A vein in Brennus' neck pulsed with rage. 'The fancy boys and Lentulus,' he sneered. All his other weapons lay on the far side of the room.
'Don't come any closer!' Titus' voice wavered although the Gaul was unarmed.
The three murmillones were inseparable. Titus and Curtius were brothers, thugs who had worked in the collegia for Clodius. They had been sold to the ludus after a rich matron had been raped by a mob that they were leading. There were still some crimes that the lictores, the magistrates, would not tolerate. Flavus was a short, unpleasant man whom the pair had been trained with. Thrown into a group combat in the arena soon after arriving, they'd found it useful to fight as a trio. Since that day, the murmillones had lived, trained and slept together, scarcely leaving each other's company. It had earned them a reputation of doing more than sharing beds.
'What are you doing with these scum?' He moved closer to Lentulus, the fourth intruder.
The Goth swallowed hard and stepped back, keeping his sword pointing towards Brennus.
The big Gaul smiled coldly. 'Leave now and I'll be nice. I won't even kill any of you.'
Unsure, Lentulus turned to Titus, the ringleader 'He's full of shit!' retorted the murmillo. 'Think of the woman. You can have her next.'
Lentulus glanced at the Nubian's naked body, his eyes full of lust. Curtius nodded in agreement and pushed a hand into Astoria's groin. He sniggered and stuck several fingers in his mouth.
'Tastes sweet, Lentulus.'
'Keep him over there, boys!' Flavus laughed too, an erection visible through his loincloth. 'It won't take long with this bitch.'
Lentulus was still gazing between Astoria's legs with fascination.
There was only a moment to act. Brennus darted forward, swinging a huge fist into the side of Lentulus' head. The Goth collapsed, sword dropping to the floor. Before Brennus had time to pick it up, Titus lunged forward. Desperately the Gaul dodged to one side, but the blade sliced a long, shallow cut on his chest.
As another thrust followed, Brennus caught the sharp iron in his left hand. Ignoring the pain, he gripped the gladius so tightly that Titus was unable to pull it away. With his right, the Gaul grabbed the murmillo by the windpipe and began to choke him.
Titus' eyes bulged with terror and he let go of the sword, trying frantically to break Brennus' powerful grip. His efforts were futile. Within moments the murmillo's face had gone puce, his tongue protruding from a desperate, gaping mouth. Brennus tightened the hold, grimacing as the cartilage made a cracking sound.
Curtius jumped up when he saw his brother struggling to breathe. 'Hold the girl!' he screamed at Flavus, launching himself across the room, weapon raised.
Half strangling Astoria, the evil-looking murmillo quickly obeyed.
Brennus dropped the limp figure to the floor, smoothly turning the sword hilt into his good hand. Blood dripped from the deep cut, but the naked Gaul was now in berserker mode. He moved closer, gladius at the ready.
'Four not enough to take me? Limp prick!'
'Bastard!' Distraught with grief, Curtius slashed madly at Brennus, who simply ducked under the blow.
He leaned forward, burying his blade deep in the murmillo's unprotected chest. The Gaul smiled as Curtius' momentum carried him further on to the sword.
The murmillo's eyes opened wide with shock as he died.
Placing a huge hand on Curtius' chest, Brennus shoved him backwards.
There was a sucking noise as the razor-sharp metal pulled free, allowing air to rush into the chest cavity. Curtius' body sagged on to the sandy floor, pouring blood.
- Предыдущая
- 27/109
- Следующая
