palm on his damp forehead.
‘He is my only child; how can I sleep, Cabera? Would you sleep if it was your child?’
‘I would sleep like a baby. We have done all that we can. I will continue to watch over him, but you must get your rest.’ The other voice seemed kind, but not the rounded tones of the physicians that tended his mother. There was a trace of a strange accent, a mellifluous rhythm as he spoke.
Gaius sank into sleep again as if he held a dark weight on his chest. The voices continued on the edge of hearing, slipping in and out of fever dreams.
‘Why have you not closed the wound with stitches? I’ve seen a lot of battle wounds, but we close them and bind them …’
‘This is why the Greek dislikes my methods. The wound must have a drain for the pus that will fill it as the fever strengthens. If I closed it tight, the pus would have nowhere to go and poison his flesh. Then he would surely die, as most do. This could save him.’
‘If he dies, I will cut your own appendix out myself.’
There was a cackle and a few words in a strange language that echoed in Gaius’ dreams.
‘You would have a job finding it. Here is the scar from when my father removed mine many years ago – with the drain.’
Gaius’ father spoke with finality: ‘I will trust your judgement then. You have my thanks and more if he lives.’
Gaius woke as a cool hand touched his forehead. He looked into blue eyes, bright in skin the colour of walnut wood.
‘My name is Cabera, Gaius. It is good to meet you at last and at such a moment in your life. I have been travelling for thousands of your miles. It is enough to make me believe in the gods to have arrived here when I was needed. No?’
Gaius couldn’t respond. His tongue was thick and solid in his mouth. As if reading his thoughts, the old man reached over and brought a shallow bowl of water to his lips.
‘Drink a little. The fever is burning the moisture from your body.’
The few drops slid into his mouth and loosened the gummy saliva that had gathered there. Gaius coughed and his eyes closed again. Cabera looked down at the boy and sighed for a moment. He checked that there was no one around and then placed his bony old hands over the wound, around the thin wood tube that still dribbled sluggish fluid.
A warmth came from his hands that Gaius could feel even in his dreams. He felt tendrils of heat spread up into his chest and settle into his lungs, clearing away fluid.
The heat built until it was almost painful and then Cabera took his hands away and sat still, his breathing suddenly harsh and broken.
Gaius opened his eyes again. He still felt too weak to move, but the feeling of liquid moving inside him had gone. He could breathe again.
‘What did you do?’ he murmured.
‘Helped a little, yes? You needed a little help, even after all my skills as a surgeon.’ The old face was deeply lined with exhaustion, but his eyes still shone out from the dark creases. The hand was pressed against his forehead again.
‘Who are you?’ he whispered.
The old man shrugged. ‘I am still working on an answer to that. I have been a beggar and the chief of a village. I think of myself as a seeker after truths, with a new truth for each place I reach.’
‘Can you help my mother?’ Gaius kept his eyes closed, but he could hear the soft sigh that came from the man.
‘No, Gaius. Her problem is in her mind, or the soul, perhaps. I can help a little with physical hurt, but nothing more. It is much simpler. I am sorry. Sleep now, lad. Sleep is the real healer, not I.’
Darkness came, as if ordered.
When he woke again, Renius was sitting on the bed, his face unreadable as always. As Gaius opened his eyes, he took in the changed appearance of his teacher. His left shoulder was heavily bound close to the body and there was a pallor under the sun-darkened skin.
‘How are you, lad? I can’t tell you how good it is to see you getting better. That old tribesman must be a miracle worker.’ The voice at least was the same, curt and hard.
‘I think he may be, yes. I’m surprised to see you here after almost killing me,’ Gaius murmured, feeling his heart pump faster as the memories came fresh. He felt sweat break out on his forehead.
‘I did not mean to cut you badly. It was a mistake. I am sorry.’ The old man looked into his eyes for forgiveness and found it there waiting for him.
‘Don’t be sorry. I am alive and you are alive. Even you make mistakes.’
‘When I thought I’d killed you …’ There was pain in the old face.
Gaius struggled to sit up and found, to his surprise, that his strength was growing.
‘You did not kill me. I will always be proud to say it was you who trained me. Let there be no more words on this. It is done.’
For a second Gaius was struck by the ridiculousness of a thirteen-year-old boy comforting the old gladiator, but the words came easily as he realised he felt a genuine affection for this man, especially now he could see him as a man and not a perfect warrior, cut from some strange stone.
‘Is my father still here?’ he asked, hoping he would be.
Renius shook his head. ‘He had to return to the city, though he sat by your bed for the first few days, until we were sure you were on the mend. The riots grow worse and Sulla’s legion has been recalled to establish order.’
Gaius nodded and held out his clenched hand before him.
‘I would like to be there, to see the legion come through the gates.’
Renius smiled at the young man’s enthusiasm.
‘Not this time, I think, but you will see more of the city when you are well again. Tubruk is outside. Are you strong enough to see him?’
‘I feel much better, almost normal. How long has it been?’
‘A week. Cabera gave you herbs to keep you asleep. Even so, you’ve healed incredibly quickly, and I’ve seen a lot of wounds. That old man calls himself a seer. I think he does have a little magic about him, that one. I’ll call Tubruk.’
As Renius rose, Gaius put out his hand. ‘Will you be staying on?’
Renius smiled, but shook his head. ‘The training is over. I am retiring to my own little villa, to grow old in peace.’
Gaius hesitated for a second. ‘Do you … have a family?’
‘I had one, once, but they are long gone. I will spend my evenings with the other old men, telling lies and drinking good red wine. I will keep an eye on your life, though. Cabera says you are someone special, and I don’t believe that old devil is wrong very often.’
‘Thank you,’ Gaius said, unable to put into words what the gladiator
