Chapter XII: Romulus and Caesar

Within a few heartbeats, the rhino was thundering towards them at full gallop. Although the arena was large, it would be upon them in a few moments. Despite this, Romulus' feet felt anchored to the spot. His life was over. In slow motion, he scanned the watching crowds. The wealthy toga-clad nobles and the grimy poor in their threadbare tunics. Caesar, on his velvet cushion, with his followers and soldiers arrayed around him. The greasy master of ceremonies. Memor, who looked delighted now that Romulus' fate was sealed. The guards on the edge of the enclosure with their bows and spears.

A daring plan took root in his mind.

'Quick! Grab an arrow,' hissed Petronius. 'It'll be some kind of defence.'

'I've got a better idea,' muttered Romulus. 'You go left, and I'll go right.'

'Why?'

'The beast can only follow one of us. When it does, the second can try to grab a spear from a guard.' Romulus jerked his head at the nearest. 'Look. It's pointing downwards, in case he needs to use it quickly. A lot of them are standing like that. Jump up, give the shaft a hard yank and there's a chance of gaining a weapon which would actually be useful. Then the one who's armed can protect the other.'

'The archers will be ordered to shoot us down if we do that,' breathed Petronius. A fierce spark lit in his eyes nonetheless. 'Won't they?'

'Probably. It'll be dangerous for both of us.'

There was a heartbeat's pause as both considered the obvious: whoever the rhino pursued would die.

'It's worth a try,' said Petronius after a moment's consideration.

'Better than just dying like cowards.'

'It is.' Petronius took a deep breath. 'Ready?'

The ground was already shaking from the rhino's approach. Its head was down, presenting the most terrifying of sights: its long front horn, which could gore deep into flesh. If it missed, the creature's wide skull, backed up by the weight of fifteen men, would smash bones, crush ribs, or both. Helpless from any of these injuries, its victim would then be trampled to death.

'Go!' shouted Romulus. Arms and legs pumping, he sprinted off to one side. His fear gave him an extra turn of speed, but he dared not look around until he'd counted fifteen or twenty paces. Then, not having been run down, he glanced back. His heart rose to his mouth as he saw the rhino charging after Petronius. With a daring jink to one side, the veteran avoided its first attempt to gore him in the back. He was now running in the opposite direction to it. Not for long. The enormous beast turned remarkably fast and pounded after Petronius again. With nowhere to hide, it would only be moments before it caught up.

Romulus turned away. Every single instant was vital. If both of them weren't soon to be bloody corpses on the sand, he had to forget Petronius. The guard he'd seen slouching over the low side of the enclosure was about two dozen steps away. Gripped by the action, the man hadn't moved, and his dangling spear was just within arm's reach. Acting as if he was searching for an exit, Romulus ran along the brickwork, silently counting his strides. He was careful to keep his gaze averted from the spearman.

The air filled with insults as the nearby spectators showed their contempt for his perceived cowardice. 'Miserable dog!' 'Trying to save your own skin? Fool!' 'Spineless whoreson!' Romulus ran on regardless. In the distance, he could still hear the angry snorts of the rhino. There had been no screams however, which gave him heart that it had not yet killed Petronius. Ten steps. Fifteen.

Romulus gritted his teeth as he drew closer. The guard had to be watching whatever was happening to poor Petronius, or he was lost. Twenty paces and he risked a look up. The broad-leafed blade was pointing downwards, its dull-witted owner oblivious to his approach. Mithras, help me, he thought. One more step, and Romulus bent his knees, leaping high into the air. With both hands, he grabbed hold of the shaft just below the head and pulled downwards. There was a strangled cry of surprise as the guard followed his weapon into the arena. Landing awkwardly, he found himself staring up at his own spear, which Romulus had reversed to point at his heart. The man had enough sense not to reach for his sword.

'Stay there, you bastard,' growled Romulus before tearing off to help Petronius. As he ran, he could hear the angry shouts of the other guards and the shocked cries of the spectators. Arrows and spears would be loosed at him any instant, but he couldn't think about that. What was happening before his eyes was far worse than that. Romulus cursed himself that he had not run faster. The rhino had already struck Petronius a glancing blow. Although his friend was still running, he was listing to one side and clutching his ribs. His free hand clutched his only weapon, the useless arrow. The damn beast was right behind him too.

Romulus gauged the distance between them. Thirty paces at least.

If he threw the spear now, it had little chance of even hurting the rhino.

If he didn't, Petronius was a dead man.

Romulus slowed down, and closed his left eye. Taking aim at the armoured beast's shoulder, he hurled the spear forward in a powerful curving trajectory. As he did, his gaze locked with that of Petronius. The veteran gave him the tiniest of smiles. It spoke a thousand emotions. Pride that Romulus' attempt had been successful. Respect for his courage and ability. And the love that comrades bear each other.

The spear came down at speed, striking the rhino squarely between the shoulder blades. It glanced off its thick hide.

'No!' Romulus screamed.

The creature's front horn hit Petronius in the middle of his back, lifting him high in the air. Punching through his abdomen with ease, it emerged red-tipped from just under his sternum. A great cry of agony left Petronius' lips. Spitted like a wild boar on a spear, he struggled to free himself as the rhino shook him effortlessly from side to side.

Cheers of excitement rose from the crowd. Mingled with these were shouted commands.

Overcome by grief, Romulus paused. He was dimly aware that no one had shot him down yet, but he did not know why.

Blood dribbled from Petronius' lips as the rhino dropped its head and let him fall. It moved back a step, preparing to smash him into a pulp. Then it saw Romulus. Pawing the ground with a huge foot, it bellowed with anger. Here was another troublesome human to kill. Ignoring Petronius, it began to move towards Romulus.

That's it, he thought, looking at the spear, which was lying on the sand behind the rhino. My effort was wasted, and I'm a goner.

Somehow Petronius dragged himself partially upright. Along with the blood which was streaming from the gaping hole in his belly, there were loops of torn intestine and faeces visible. 'You ugly brute,' he shouted, ashen-faced. 'Come back.'

As Petronius had intended, the rhino's attention was drawn from Romulus. Grunting, it turned around.

Romulus came alive again. Even as he died, Petronius was trying to buy him time. He could not waste that. As the rhino smashed its head down on his friend's already broken body, he darted around the bloody sight to the spear. The long wooden shaft felt hot in his hand as he swept it up. It was a heavy hunting weapon with a leaf-shaped iron blade, suitable for killing boar or lion. Romulus had no idea whether it could do the same to the mighty creature which had killed Petronius. For that was surely what had happened. The rhino had now struck his comrade several times with immense force. He'd heard a muffled cry after the first impact, but nothing since.

Something made Romulus look up at the nearest spectators. Without realising, he had moved to stand just below the dignitaries' box. Not twenty steps away was Julius Caesar, his face alive with interest. Romulus glanced at the closest guards, who had their weapons raised and ready. Remarkably, they were not aiming at him. I am being allowed to fight on, he realised with a thrill. Turning his gaze back to the rhino, Romulus winced. It had finished with Petronius' corpse, which was now nothing more than a misshapen bundle of bloody rags. It hadn't seen him. Not moving a muscle, he waited to see what it would do.