Page 7 of House of Serpents and Slaves
The gladiators tittered and the challenger's face was like thunder.
"We bring death to this arena," he said, towering over Marcus and sending a glare at Antonius.
"Then you can take it with you to Inferi when we send you there," said Marcus, no longer smiling. The two broke apart and the gladiators formed up, awaiting the sound of the trumpets.
"May the gods grant us victory," Marcus shouted, as the crowd began to cheer and shout. The atmosphere in the arena was electrifying, like a spark ready to ignite a blaze. “Victory and honour! Glory and long life to the Emperor.”
"Victory and honour," I murmured to myself, watching them with a mixture of awe and envy. I gripped the handrail tightly,the coarse wood biting into my palms. The trumpets sounded and the battle began.
The roar of the crowd filled my ears, drowning out any rational thoughts as I watched the gladiators clash in the centre of the arena. Steel met steel with a deafening crash, followed by grunts and cries of pain. My heart raced, fear and fascination warring within me as I witnessed the brutal spectacle.
"Antonius! Stop playing and kill them!" I heard Drusus shout from his seat above the fray, his bald head gleaming with sweat as he waved his meaty arms in encouragement. "And watch that leg sweep, Septimus!"
His laughter echoed as Septimus narrowly avoided a crushing blow from his opponent. I flinched at the sound, but couldn't tear my eyes away from the battle.
"Strike now, Antonius!" Marcus called from the edge of the arena, his dark eyes focused intently on the fight. Antonius lunged forward, catching his opponent off guard, and my breath caught in my throat. It was all happening so fast – the dance of death unfolding before me, both terrifying and mesmerizing. The gladiator he struck fell to the sand, his helmet crumpled under his blow.
"Valour, Antonius!" yelled Marcus from nearby, praising his man. "Take out the leader!"
Antonius flashed his easy smile even as he adjusted his position. "Valour, Marcus! But only if you promise to sing me a victory song after my next triumph!"
Laughter rippled through the other gladiators and it seemed to spur on the enemy. They fought back with a sudden ferocity that wiped smiles from our gladiators and had my heart thumping behind my ribs.
"Focus!" Marcus barked, snapping me back to the present. "You can jest after you've shown me you're worthy of the arena."
Tavi and I watched, joining in with the cheering as more of their men fell to our swords, and calling out in disappointment as Andus went down in a spray of blood from a particularly vicious strike by the leader.
I focused on Septimus, who was closest to us. He was facing down a heavyset fighter, much bigger than he was, who seemed quite confident that he was going to bring him down by the insults that flowed from his mouth, Septimus had heard much worse that the drivel this guy was coming out with, and it didn't affect him at all.
The crowd laughed and jeered, expecting Septimus to be crushed underfoot. But Septimus was quick and nimble, dodging the larger fighter's attacks with ease. He struck back with his sword, landing blow after blow until the larger fighter was on his knees, defeated.
The crowd roared, impressed by Septimus's skill. I watched, my heart beating fast with excitement, and if I admitted it, the slightest relief. I might think Septimus was arrogant and overbearing, but he was all that was left of my home, and I would be even more alone if he were to be killed. If Septimus could become a gladiator, then maybe there was hope for me too, I reminded myself. That could be me out there.
I glanced over to where Marcus was fighting, thinking over the plan that had begun to occur to me earlier that evening. Marcus was well respected, and if he recommended me for training, Drusus might well listen to him. I just needed to get him on my side, to get him to watch me train. I was sure if I could convince him to at least watch me, he would be confident enough of my skills to persuade Drusus to give me a chance.
Of course, in my time at the arena, I had learned that unless you were their equal in status or strength, there was really only one way to get a man to listen to you, and that was to encourage their affections in certain ways.
I had never been in Marcus's bed, and the thought of it didn't fill me with as much apprehension as I thought it would. Watching the way he moved, like some huge mirage cat, his muscles bunching and stretching out under his armour, the thought occurred to me that it could be quite enjoyable.
Another roar went up from the crowd as Antonius finally fought his way to the arrogant leader and faced him in the centre of the arena. The leader was the last one standing, and I sent a silent prayer to the gods, asking for strength and endurance for Antonius. I enjoyed his easy manner and his carefree humour. He treated everyone the same, slave and gladiator, and I would miss his kind presence if he were to be killed tonight.
I needn't have worried. Antonius was a master of his craft, and he fought with the ferocity of a lion. He landed blow after blow on the leader, driving him back with each strike. The crowd was on their feet, screaming and cheering, and I found myself swept up in the excitement.
"Finish him, Antonius!" Marcus shouted, his voice ringing out over the chaos.
Antonius grinned, his eyes flashing with excitement. They circled each other, the tension palpable as they both searched for an opening. Then, with a sudden lunge, Antonius struck, his sword finding its mark and piercing the enemy's chest.
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, their voices echoing off the walls of the arena. I joined in, my heart pounding with excitement and adrenaline.
Victory was ours.
2
Istood in the centre of the arena, my sandals sinking slightly into the blood-soaked sand. The roar of the crowd had faded to a distant hum, like the buzzing of insects on a summer day. Around me, my fellow gladiators were celebrating our victory, their voices hoarse from shouting and laughter. But I couldn't join in their revelry. Not yet.
My eyes scanned the arena, taking in the aftermath of our battle. Bodies lay strewn across the sand, some still, others groaning in pain. The visiting team from Hikma had fought bravely, but in the end, our experience and training had wonout. We had emerged victorious, but at a cost. Tarsus had been carried off to the medicus with what looked like a broken arm and a vicious head wound, but he’d been luckier than Andus.
Andus hadn’t been one of our best, but he had been a skilled fighter and a loyal friend. Now he was gone. Another one leaving to walk the Eternal Fields. I felt a heaviness in my chest, a familiar ache that I had learned to push aside over the years.
