His gaze shifted and he saw men wandering all over the arena and grounds of the Ludus. It seemed like most were slaves, who wore little more than loincloths and no shoes. They were thin and by contrast, he saw men who were well built and well fed. Those must be the gladiators and many were down in the arena fighting, though it looked like an organized training. It felt somehow familiar, but he wasn’t sure why and then it hit him. Boot camp. When they had gone through training with weapons or hand to hand combat, it was similar. Something tight along his shoulders loosened and the tight band across his chest eased.
Thad understood training, he’d done it since he had joined Tae Kwon Do in Japan. He’d been fourteen at the time and he and his little sister, Serena, had been forced to join. He remembered being resentful at first, he had wanted to hang out with his new friends. His parents had put their foot down and said he needed an organized sport until he could join basketball or football. So, he and Serena had gone and after a while, he had begun to enjoy it and he also enjoyed more control over his tall thin body. He sighed and pushed that memory along with his sister down deep. The pain of never seeing her again hurt like a bloody gaping wound.
Seeing the training ground, Thad realized that he and his friends would end up there. When would he go back over to the Colosseum? He turned to look but the high walls of the Ludus blocked his view. He could hear the crowd, however, and he remembered their screaming faces, imprinted on his retinas. He felt a touch from behind and realized he’d stopped. The slave hadn’t shoved him and he was glad. He would hate to be a slave here and then mentally laughed, he was a slave, just a different kind of slave. He felt the warmth of the sun hit him; it dissipated the chill from the tunnel and also the fear that had coiled around the back of his brain.
Ahead, two men came toward them. One man wore a thigh high tunic of ochre with decorative piping around the collar. He was a tall man with broad shoulders. There was a wide leather belt that hung loosely on his hips. He wore sandals made from leather that came up to his ankles. They looked soft and formed around his feet, as though after years of wear, they fit the man perfectly. He had a large beaked nose with large dark eyes and those eyes scrutinized the Marines. He had close cropped dark hair with silver at the temples. There were deep grooves by his eyes and mouth. He was sunbaked. The other man was a fire hydrant, short and squat. He had curled ears that stuck out from the side of his head and he was bald. His tunic was longer and reached his cankles. His toenails were yellowed and thick and curled up. Thad thought that a diamond grinder would take care of those.
“What have you here?” the taller man asked.
“My master, Scauras, has sent these men to you, doctore. He asks that you have the medicus look them over and in a day or so, evaluate them,” Appuleius said.
The taller man man’s gaze once more went over them, his face curious but passive. He turned to the fire hydrant.
“Scauras has a good eye,” doctore said.
“He does indeed,” fire hydrant said.
Thad and his friends stood ramrod straight and waited. It was as though they stood in formation for inspection by the gunnery sergeant. This must be the gunny, or doctore. Thad remembered hearing that name, but thought that it actually meant doctor. It didn’t and he figured they were being handed over to this man.
“So, I shall evaluate them,” doctore said and turned to the fire hydrant.
“I’ll get them taken care of, Glaucis and let you know,” doctore said.
“Thank you, Lucius, I’m going upstairs,” Glaucis said and turned and left. The doctore turned and faced Thad and his friends, his attention on them now.
“I am Titu Lucius but you shall address me as doctore or maestro. You will be assigned a chamber where you shall stay confined there until you are evaluated,” Lucius said and turned, lifting an arm. A man came forward with four slaves who carried shackles. Thad watched as each slave knelt and placed the iron shackles around each of his friends. He felt the cold bite of the metal and wanted to kick the slave away from him, but instead, he stood as still as a statue. His friends did the same. He felt the vibration of a hammer as the cuffs were secured. Once the shackles were distributed among the four men, the slaves melted away, their faces carefully blank.
“This is Cato Decimus, he will be your il domatore, your trainer. You will listen and obey him, as though it was my mouth that speak the words. To do otherwise will see you lashed. The gods have smiled upon you, for you are to be trained to fight and fight well and die well. Work hard, train hard and you shall survive the arena. Do poorly and you shall die quickly. I can see that you