This is no way to live my life.
Brennus had also had enough. He lowered his longsword and stepped back, ignoring the shouts.
Across the arena, all surviving Dacicus fighters had thrown down their weapons, pleading for mercy. Fewer than fifteen remained living.
Twenty-four Magnus gladiators were uninjured; another half-dozen were lying screaming in pain, but would live to fight another day.
Trumpets rang out, silencing the clamour. The portly master of ceremonies stepped forward again.
'Victory goes to the Lu-dus Mag-nus!' he announced.
Brennus, Romulus and the others raised bloody swords in acknowledgement. The responding roars completely drowned out the cries of the wounded and dying. Rome cared not for the victims.
'What a slaughter.' Disgusted, Romulus looked at the open red mouths in the baying crowd. 'Nearly sixty men have died for this?'
Brennus was fully in control of himself now, the battle frenzy replaced by his customary poise. He stared at his right arm, bloody to the elbow. 'Pompey deserves it more than this poor bastard, I suppose,' he said heavily, nudging the headless Samnite with one foot.
'Yes. He does!' hissed Romulus.
The announcer held up both podgy arms for quiet. 'I give you – the illustrious general Pompey Magnus!'
There was dutiful cheering as Pompey rose to speak again. The middleaged consul stood in silence for a moment, enjoying the applause. He acknowledged it with regal waves, and the people responded with a more fervent display of gratitude to Pompey. The brutal mass combat had satisfied their bloodlust.
'Knows how to work the crowd as well as Caesar,' said Brennus.
Romulus clenched his fists. 'They are all bastards!' he replied. His exhaustion had been replaced by a desperate desire to show Pompey how it felt to be butchered. But images of the venator's death were too vivid. He would end up the same way. A plan was needed.
'People of Rome!' Pompey raised his arms. Enthusiastic screams greeted him. 'What a spectacle we have seen here today! All for you. Citizens of the Republic!' Deafening applause followed.
Pompey smiled, clicking two fingers together. Slaves bearing a bronze tray laden with money bags materialised at his side.
'Let those from the winning side come forward!' The announcer sounded disdainful. 'Only those with no wounds may approach!'
The able-bodied fighters grouped together, heads held high. They walked to stand in front of the box, saluting Pompey with clenched fists. Even Romulus felt a brief surge of pride at having survived the slaughter. It was hard not to.
'You have fought bravely,' Pompey said approvingly. 'Those who show such courage deserve suitable reward.' He picked up a leather bag and tossed it into the air.
Sextus grabbed the first, stepping back with a broad grin. Purses landed until every man had received one. Rapturous cheering continued long after Pompey had finished throwing. People had enjoyed the extravagant contest more than usual. The fighters waved swords, smiled and laughed, unused to such adulation.
It did not last.
With an impatient gesture, the master of ceremonies motioned for them to leave the arena. Their moment of glory was over; the gladiators were mere slaves again.
'It's heavy.' Romulus hefted his prize with both hands. 'How much is in it?'
Brennus shrugged. 'Couple of thousand sestertii maybe.'
'A bargain,' Romulus said, full of fury once more. 'We are better than this.' He shook the bag. It made a jingling sound. The price of men's lives.
Brennus shot him a glance. 'Too many ears around still,' he muttered.
Romulus fell silent. There was no point being reckless.
'Enough to buy wine and whores for the next few months!' Sextus was grinning from ear to ear.
'Thanks for getting Romulus out of that tight spot.'
'You saved my hide last year, remember?'
Brennus shrugged. 'Anyone would have done the same.'
'Except they wouldn't,' replied the scissores swiftly. 'It's a shame Figulus survived, though. A poisonous snake, that one.'
'Bastard will be stirring up more trouble in no time.' Brennus watched Figulus with narrowed eyes. 'I know it.'
'Won't be happy until he has killed you,' sighed Sextus. 'And raped Astoria.'
The words were inflammatory.
Brennus raised his sword. 'I'll just go and kill him. Get it over with.'
He was interrupted by Memor, who appeared on the sand alone. 'The fight was over!' he screeched. 'One of the familia was pleading for his life. And what did you do?'
The Gaul did not answer.
'You maimed him!'
'He and his sewer rat friends attacked me and Romulus,' replied Brennus. 'They were going to kill us both.'
'It must have been a mistake,' cried Memor, waving his hands. 'They mistook you for Dacicus fighters.' Clearly he had not seen the start of the altercation.
'It was all planned.'
The lanista ignored his answer. 'When a man pleads for mercy, you do not say what happens.' Memor pointed at the dignitaries' box, shaking with anger. 'Pompey decides!' He waved a fist at the Gaul.
Brennus clenched his jaw.
'All special rights are withdrawn! Astoria can go back to the kitchen where she belongs. I'm taking back your cell too,' Memor sneered. 'Bunk in with some of the others. See how you like it.'
Brennus took a step towards the lanista, longsword raised. 'I ought to cut your throat.'
Memor simply lifted a hand.
Archers on top of the hoarding raised drawn bows.
'Do exactly as I say, or get a belly full of arrows.' The lanista paused. 'And you might stop that black bitch being sold to the Lupanar tomorrow morning.'