V
Scauras and Glaucis watched below as two prisoners were each chained to a bull. The night before, the prisoners had been ordered to stab the bulls with a sharp stick. The bulls screamed and flung themselves against the cages.
“Who thinks of these things?” Glaucis asked as he watched below. The crowd was cheering and he looked around at the arena and shook his head.
“You know who. He’s watching as we speak,” Scauras said and nodded toward the emperor. Both men kept their voices down.
“I don’t understand, what entertainment value does this have?” Glaucis asked.
“Just wait, they will let a bear out and the bear was placed close enough to where he could just graze the bulls through the night.” The statement caused Glaucis to shake his head again. He had been in the arena in some form or fashion for over twenty years, as had Scauras. It never ceased to amaze him what constituted entertainment. He only knew that when the emperor was present, bloodshed would ensue.
“Just wanted you to know not to let any of your favorite gladiators fight tomorrow. He’ll be here again, he’s in a mood. I think it is going bad in the senate. Don’t let your women gladiators onto the roster, unless you wish to see them killed,” Scauras said in warning.
“Thank you, I was thinking about putting Zaza and Etta on for tomorrow, but I’ll hold off for another day,” Glaucis said and spit. He watched as the sacks were taken from the bulls’ head and they whirled around as the prisoners tried to dodge the horns.
“What is with you and Zaza? You thinking of taking her to your bed?” Scauras asked, a brow lifted.
“No, no. Nothing like that. She reminds me of my daughter, long ago. She has her sweet nature. If the soldiers hadn’t killed her, I think she would have looked like Zaza,” Glaucis said softly. Scauras grunted and nodded. Both men watched as the bear was let loose into the arena and the bulls went charging for the bear, the prisoners dragged along.
“The last time the emperor let a woman gladiator die, the crowd got ugly. They didn’t like that at all. You would think he would learn that,” Scauras said.
“It’s because he’s a coward. He wouldn’t know how to use a sword if it were his penis,” Glaucis said softly, looking around to make sure that they were alone. All eyes and attention were on the scene playing out below. Screams of the men reached their ears as well as screams from the bear.
“It’s true, the bigger the coward, the more bloodshed they want,” Scauras said and laughed without humor.
“Sextus said that dogs were requested at first,” Glaucis said, causing Scauras to laugh. Glaucis’ eyes slid over and he tilted his head.
“Sextus loves those dogs, don’t be fooled. If there is a chance one of his precious animals could be hurt, he tries to persuade me to a different course. Ah well, we all have things that we wish to protect,” Scauras said. Glaucis nodded, thinking about Zaza. It had been a long time since his wife and daughter had been killed by the Roman soldiers. He’d have been a grandfather by now he was sure. But it was not to be. His eyes slid over to watch the emperor as the sounds from below intensified. There was a dreamy quality to the man, a smile that creased his lips. Yes, he was indeed a coward and a sadistic bastard as well.
Θ
Greg sighed in pleasure. Finally, finally they were shaven and allowed to have their hair cut. Having lived most of his young life clean shaven along with a short haircut, he wasn’t used to all the hair. Since coming through time, none of them had been allowed to shave or have their hair cut or trimmed. He supposed that being well groomed was considered a privilege and as il novizio, beginner status, they were only allowed the loincloth. Today, they were advanced to il novizio, the lowest rank of the gladiator, so they were officially gladiators, though it would be months before they were actually sent out to the arena.
The slave drew the razor across his head and he felt the soft springy hair fall to his shoulders. He’d already been shaved and his face no longer itched. With the heat of the long days, the beard and hair on his head kept him miserable. It was the same with his friends. He thought that Thad had it the worst, his beard was very thick and he’d seen the man scratch at it like a fiend. Because there were no shampoos during this era, all the men opted to have their heads shaved bald. There wasn’t a lot of difference because they’d all gotten used to the Marine high and tight.
He grinned as he watched each of his friends’ body language transmit the same relief of losing all the hair. Then they were all bathed, this time in heated scented water. That too, it seemed was a privilege. He and his friends opted to clean themselves. Greg just didn’t want someone bathing him, it was really too close for comfort. He had tried to use the scraping tool on himself and got most of the oil off, but had to have one of the bath attendants scrape his back. It was either that or walk around wearing an oil slick. He was getting used to having his personal space invaded. He felt bad for the slaves and had to remind himself that he too was a slave. They just had a suckier job and less food. He had food, but also faced death by sword, lion, dog, elephant or injury.
“Man,
