Free Caligula by Douglas Jackson Page B

restless. The games no longer seemed to satisfy them. The organizers would have to introduce something truly spectacular. Something different. He had so much to do. He needed that money. He had outlawed dozens of aristocrats and confiscated their estates. There were plenty more where they came from, but the jails were already full to overflowing. What if . . .? The idea came like a bolt from Jupiter. Of course – it was perfect. And it solved two problems; he would empty the prisons and entertain the mob at the same time.
    Their first performance back at the Taurus was like a homecoming for Rufus. The old stadium was less than half full, but word quickly spread among those who were happy to be amused as well as shocked, and the crowds soon returned.
    But Fronto's business could not survive on a single performance. He was an animal trader and, under Caligula, there were never enough animals.
    'It is no longer a question of deciding who I sell my stock to,' Fronto complained. 'The Emperor's procurers are everywhere. They come out to the farm with half a dozen guards, say "I want that, that and that" and off they go again without another word. Not that I'm complaining: the Emperor pays top prices. I want you to take the big black-maned lion – not Africanus, the other one – and two leopards and that half-lame cheetah to the new arena out by the Praetorian barracks. They're to be used in some big spectacle the Emperor has planned. You might see your friend Cupido – he's on the same bill.'
    When he arrived at the arena, Rufus recognized Sabatis and a few others from Cupido's school preparing weapons and armour, but the gladiator himself was absent, so he decided to return the next day. He approached one of the animal handlers and volunteered his services. Since his single appearance before the crowd Rufus had achieved something close to celebrity status among the keepers and cleaners who fed and cared for the arena animals, and the man was pleased to have his help.
    When he reported for duty the following morning he was surprised to find many of the cages filled with a ragged assortment of half-starved and terrified prisoners.
    'They are the noxii , condemned criminals. The Emperor has decreed that they must be executed in the arena so that their deaths can be witnessed by the populace,' the animal handler explained. 'They are mostly low-bred scum, but I've heard that some of them are knights who plotted against the Emperor. He is coming here to see them die.'
    The spectacle would not start for some time, and Rufus sought out Cupido before he began his preparations. The fair-haired young gladiator was sitting with other members of his school, but when he saw Rufus he rose and the pair walked together to the main entrance, where they watched the stands fill.
    'Look at them,' Cupido said, his voice thick with scorn. 'They are like sheep. They won't move all day, even to get up for a piss, in case someone steals their precious seat or they miss one bit of bloodletting.'
    Rufus studied his friend as they stood in the shade of the doorway. The light streaming from the arena created shadows and hollows in his handsome face that made him seem much older than his years. A dark tinge round his eyes hinted at nights spent staring into the darkness waiting for sleep that never came.
    'Fronto tells me you are more famous than ever,' he said lightly, trying to break the mood. 'But he says you are so fat on good living they will soon have to wheel you in on a cart.'
    Cupido looked at Rufus and raised one blond eyebrow. 'And he tells me that you are even more famous than I am – but only in those places where they bathe but twice a year and have never been privileged to see a proper performance.'
    Rufus laughed. 'Yes, Fronto is as big a liar as he always was.'
    Rufus told the gladiator of his travels and the places he had seen, the great triumphs in small arenas and the way the troupe had been honed into a spectacle worthy of Rome's finest