And when I strode out into the ring the arena was on fire. No, I mean literally it's on fire! The crowd were booing, like going nuts for the poor chap being dragged oft scorched to death. Well, I figured he was dead by the way the two slaves dragged him in unceremoniously by the ankles leaving a trail of wet dark blood in their wake. "What happened to him?" I asked them as I passed by. "Got too cocky and stood in a pool of spilled oil. Archers set it alight." "Jeesh, rookie mistake," I quipped not really feeling it. After al, I am the next trainee out to the slaughter. The next would-bc gladiator to tace the mighty war engine that is Rome. The slave just smiled and nodded, "Good luck," he replied,"seems like you're gonna need it today. Senator's in afoul mood. I hear his son died in battle two days ago." And with that he was gone and I was alone in front of a bloodthirsty crowd. It seems their appetite for death hadn't been sated. I was to be the next expendable chump sacrificed in the name of entertainment. I gulped down my nervousness and in a half hearted attempt at showmanship, I brandished my sword and shield with relish as they lay new sawdust on the arena's floor. I guess that's how easy it is to cover spilt blood. Kinda like spreading ashes. Life's cheap to these Romans if you' re not a citizen.
The flames were put out as l continued to move round the outside circle. The crowd were simmering down, uninterested in the likes of me, as yet unproven. In my country everybody 1s deemed equal; it's a novel approach these days, but it's one that works for us.vExcept when it comes to war. As prisoners we don't take kindly to becoming slaves. Not that anyone docs I suppose, but for us so used to our freedom and rights, it gets even harder when they take them away. I don't like having stuff taken from me, in fact, I hate it. I roar menacingly at the crowd. There's a fat woman in the front nonchalantly eating grapes, seemingly I don't impress her. I add a touch more ferocity and she looks up with vapid concern, then throws a grape at my forehead. It bounces off and rolls at my feet. The crowd laugh, and I feel humiliated, angry even as after all I'm about to give my life for them and their evening out. Well, in theory I am, but let's hope it doesn't come to that.
Then as l continue on my way I start top feel good as cheers start to rise. I'm getting my spirit back, I'm banging my shield with my sword. I'm a hero, a god of war and destruction being recognized for who and what I am. Not just a by a few but by thousands, All here to sec me, all here to bear witness to my struggle. "Well alright" I roar, stoked by their acknowledgement, excited by the game. Determined to stay alive and earn that respect, and hell, perhaps even eventually my freedom if I win enough battles. That's when I hear it. in balance to my own roar, the true reason they're clapping and shouting A roar to chill mc to my bones. They're cheering for a tiger. Not just any tiger, but two of the biggest cats I've ever seen. I mean, they must have been building them up for months. "Blimey, what are they feeding those things? I say aloud to myself in wary awe and grim admiration. "Gladiators!" some joker at the front shouts back, and those who hear burst into hysterics. Again with the humiliation. If the tigers don't kill me the damn embarrassment might.
Now I'm not some amateur in truth. Others in the Ludus Magnus training with me at the school truly were clueless. Some were big mean guys, but they still didn't know about weapons and war. They came from all walks of life and if they didn't learn quick they died. They soon learnt that. We all did. You were either a Gladiator, or for those with no propensity for it, you were expendable. You were the fodder. They'd stick a weapon in your hand and send you out in small groups against some lethal adversary. To make matters worse, you weren't even the star attraction. You were the warm up act, the pre-show. The sure thing to rile the crowd and satisfy their need for death. All staged to re- enactments of their favourite battles and victories. They tell a story and you give your life to make it seem real. Nothing more real than fighting for your life. I should know, I'm about to do it!
To be continued.
