The other two chuckled at this. Gallus could only watch the hammer-wielder’s grin broaden as he lined up the weapon to take aim, the spike resting on Gallus’ temple, its weight splitting the skin and grinding on the bone underneath.
‘Goodbye, Roman,’ his killer hissed, then hefted the hammer back.
Gallus stared through the man and the glinting weapon. He saw through the thousands of faces that looked on, eager to witness his death. He saw the roadside near Mediolanum. He saw the curves of Olivia under the blankets by the campfire. She had one arm wrapped around the sleeping Marcus. He reached out to cradle them both. To shield them as he should have done that night. Let me find them in the darkness, Mithras. Let me protect them there as I should have done in this life.
Suddenly, a cry of surprise rang out all around. Gallus felt the numbness of certain death crumble, and the pressure of the hands restraining him eased. He saw the hammer-man freeze, weapon raised, his head twisting to the edge of the arena. Gallus frowned, then a spear smacked into the dust, inches from the hammer-wielder’s feet. The man staggered back, as did the other two. Gallus rolled clear of the execution stone and looked to see three figures running towards him.
No! he mouthed in disbelief. Like a mirage, Felix led big Zosimus and Quadratus in a charge across the arena. A pair of Median spearmen lay in an unconscious heap at the edge of the ring, denuded of their weapons and shields. Felix carried a Persian shamshir, Quadratus a spear and shield and Zosimus a spear, sword and dagger. All three looked haggard and unkempt – as if they had spent these last months in Hades.
‘How in the realm of Mithras . . . ’ Gallus stammered. A wave of warmth washed across his heart at the sight of them.
‘To your feet, sir,’ Felix grinned, skidding to a halt by Gallus while Zosimus and Quadratus hauled Carbo up by the shoulders, pressing the hilt of a blade into his palm.
The three pushtigban warriors glanced from the five Romans to the kathisma. Tamur grappled the edge of the balcony, ready to signal for the many other guards to storm the arena and slay these newcomers. But Ramak whispered in his ear, pointing out the cheering crowd – buoyed by the excitement of this turn of events. Tamur nodded, instead signalling down to the tunnel. In moments, a troop of three Median spearmen emerged in their iron garb and pointed, plumed helms. They joined the pushtigban in a curved line, facing the Roman five like a set of pincers, spears levelled. The games were to continue, it seemed.
Gallus pressed up, back to back with his three officers and Carbo as the spear tips approached. ‘How in Hades did you escape the mines?’ he hissed to Felix.
‘We did, sir, that’s all that matters. More, Pavo, Sura, Habitus and . . . Pavo’s father are on their way to get the scroll,’ Felix whispered back.
‘Pavo’s father?’ Gallus uttered, then glanced to Carbo and understood what the man had seen in the crowd.
Carbo’s eyes darted. ‘Falco lives?’
‘It seems atonement waits on you today also?’ Gallus clamped a firm hand on the man’s shoulder. Then his thoughts halted and he beheld Felix. ‘You said they’re going to get the scroll?’ he gasped. In these last months he had forgotten entirely of its existence. ‘You know where it is?’
Felix’s glance to the palace atop the acropolis was enough to betray an answer.
‘They’re going in there?’ Gallus shook his head. ‘That place is crawling with guards! Even if they get in, they’ll never get out!’
‘I said we’d create a distraction,’ Felix said.
‘A distraction – how, exactly?’
‘I didn’t think it that far through, sir,’ Felix replied sheepishly.
Just then, Ramak leant from the edge of the kathisma and chopped his arms down like axe heads. ‘Destroy them!’
The Persian six stalked forward with purpose. The hammer-wielder flicked a finger out to direct those by his sides to their targets.
Quadratus, Zosimus, Carbo and Felix spread out to stand by Gallus’ side.
‘You think you can handle those on the flanks?’ Gallus whispered.
‘You should have met the whoresons we had to deal with in the mines,’ Zosimus grumbled. Quadratus and Felix could not contain a dry chuckle at this.
Even Gallus felt a smile tickle his lips. ‘Fine, then leave the hammer man to me.’ With that, Gallus stooped to lift his plumed intercisa from the dust. He planted it on his head. At once, the iron rim framed his vision and he gained a last surge of strength. ‘XI Claudia . . . forward!’ he cried. The four parted. In his peripheral vision, he saw Quadratus and Felix lunging for the men on the left, Carbo and Zosimus springing to the right. Gallus stalked forward, fixed his gaze on the hammer-man and saw his foe’s knuckles whitening. The hammer came up and swung round in a ferocious swipe. Gallus saw it coming and skidded to a halt, letting the blow whoosh past his midriff. The hammer-man staggered back, desperately trying to still the weapon and bring it back round. But Gallus leapt upon him like a starved leopard, butting his head forward so the tip of his intercisa fin smashed into the man’s mouth, sending teeth and blood in every direction. The man stumbled and fell, his head bashing onto the execution stone. The man flailed to right himself but the weight of his armour pinned him where he lay. Gallus hefted his spatha, then stood over his gasping, disbelieving foe, the blade resting on the man’s neck.