He was glad that the Romans were clean, bar the butt sponges, and he was grateful that they weren’t harassed or beaten like the first day. He had seen several men hit with sticks or short whips over at the training ground. He suspected that if he and his friends didn’t perform well, they’d get the stick or whip. He mentally shrugged, it couldn’t be any worse than the first day. His balls still hurt. They turned a corner and entered into the door of the medicus and noticed the old doctor. He was at his work table and turned upon their entrance. He waved them to the low table and went down the line, stopping at Marco to check his cheek.
Marco’s face was healing and the swelling and angry redness had dissipated somewhat. The old man grunted in satisfaction.
“They are clear. They may train as you see fit. I see no impediments,” he said, his voice sounding like a rusty hinge underwater. It made Thad want to clear his throat and he did.
“Have their shackles removed,” Cato ordered, handing a slave the grips to pull the pins from the hinge and the slave rushed forward and bent and began to unlock the irons. The old doctor handed a small bowl of salve to a slave, who squatted before them and applied the salve to their ankles. It felt cool and the burning irritation of the raw flesh felt better. Another servant handed each of them a folded piece of fabric.
“You may now wear la perizoma, loincloth. We go to breakfast and then we go to see how much knowledge you hold,” Cato said and turned to leave. Thad scrambled to put the loincloth on but he had no clue as to how to wear it. He looked at Dean and Marco and they looked at him and shrugged.
“I have no friggen clue,” Marco said and lifted the long length of fabric. Thad thought it was wool and it was tightly woven. They were saved from remaining naked when two of the slaves stepped forward and helped them dress. Thad watched carefully how the slave wrapped the fabric around his hips and groin. The man wove the fabric until it was wrapped snugly around his hips and between his legs. He’d have to remember how to do it after he went to the toilet.
Cato returned and stuck his head in the door, a questioning look on his face. He watched them dress and shook his head. Greg seemed to get the hang of it quickly and later, Thad figured he would practice in their cell. They weren’t given a belt like he’d seen others wear. Once they were all dressed, Cato rolled his eyes and walked out the door without saying anything. The four Marines followed behind and they went to the chow hall. The day before, they were allowed to explore the lower ludus with an escort. They had seen other medicus rooms with other doctors. The facility was large and there seemed to be thousands of slaves coming and going, doing different tasks.
Thad also noticed that there were other cells but those had been empty at the time. He thought perhaps their occupants were out training. It seemed that the second story housed the gladiators and the bottom housed newcomers. He’d seen the same kind of blanket setting ready for occupants. Slaves moved about, many carrying buckets of urine or ordure. He had stopped a slave and asked him where he took the buckets of urine.
“I take the urine to the laundry,” the man answered nervously.
“What does the laundry do with it?” Thad had asked and the man had looked up at him in surprise and then looked quickly down.
“It is to wash clothing, of course.”
Thad could say nothing to that and the man had hurried passed him.
“Man, that is seriously gross,” Marco said, overhearing the conversation.
“At least they don’t bathe us in piss,” Dean said and snorted.
“I’d kill for a roll of toilet paper and some privacy,” Greg muttered under his breath and the rest of them laughed and smacked Greg on the back and a smile flitted across his dark features. Thad was amazed that they could laugh, but he figured that they were starting to come out of their dazed state. They were Marines, they would endure, adapt and overcome whatever came their way. They now moved along silently and he realized that the gladiators weren’t up and about yet. They must get an extra hour to sleep. When they went into the chow hall, they were shown another table, this one closer to the ones that the gladiators inhabited.
Sitting at the table, it was good to have the chains removed. There were vessels of watered-down wine and water. Thad realized that the wine was of better quality than what was offered at the other table.
“I think that the higher we go in rank and position, the better the food and drink. This stuff tastes a lot better than that crap at the other table,” Thad said, wiping his mouth.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean said, smacking his lips.
“This barley mash still sucks,” Greg said and shoveled a spoon of it into his mouth.
“I don’t think it would be so bad if they would just add a little salt to it,” Marco said.
“I could use a couple of fried eggs and bacon,” Thad said dreamily and the other men grunted in agreement. They finished eating and got up. The gladiators were beginning to make their way in. As far
