It bothered him deeply, but he understood; a quick death was preferable to something the emperor could cook up and if his friend had to kill him, Thad was okay with that. He knew his friend would kill him with regret and loss. The four had become even closer over the past months. They were friendly with some of the other men, like Felix. Felix was a good guy, who had lived in Rome. His family actually lived here. He had red hair and large ears, like satellite dishes that stuck out from his head. Some of the guys teased him about his ears, but Felix was good natured. Thad had caught Remus screwing with Felix after lunch a few days back. Remus was flicking Felix’s ears.
Thad had watched and then had walked by and had grasped Remus by one of his ears and had dragged him along. At first, Remus was angry, but then frightened when Thad had started lifting the man off the ground by his ear. Sooner or later, gravity was going to separate the man’s ear from his head and Remus knew it.
“Mess with Felix again and I’ll rip both your fucking ears off and shove them up your ass,” Thad had whispered with a smile. Remus hadn’t gone near Felix again and when he fought Felix on the field, Thad watched for signs of retaliation. Thad figured if a man fought on the field, that was his own affair, but Thad couldn’t tolerate a bully and he just didn’t like Remus at all. The men around them began to see that the four were like brothers and to screw with one was to invite retaliation from the four. Cato and the other il domatores ignored most of the antics unless it got seriously bloody or disrupted the training too much.
There was also a ranking among the men, Thad and his friends were in the top along with Septimus, who was a Spaniard mixed with a Nigerian. The man was massive, even making Thad look petite. The rankings were fluid, meaning that a man could lose his spot if he were beaten in more than a few bouts. No one had yet to best Septimus and Thad thought that no one could. It was a good thing that Septimus was an easygoing man, but the man did tend to hold a grudge. When Thad had nearly beaten the man, Septimus had gone after him with a vengeance the next go round.
Thad laughed softly to himself and had watched Septimus with the other combatants. Septimus held back his great strength when fighting others. A blow from Septimus, even with a wooden sword, could shatter bone. But Thad needed to vent and to work himself as hard as he could. He knew when he trained with Septimus, that he could give his everything and not worry that he might kill the man.
“I think that you don’t try so hard little man,” Septimus said after one training session.
“I just don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Thad had responded, laughing at the man’s expression. The next day when they were paired up, Thad had gone after Septimus with a vengeance. Septimus had gotten him back and the men had stopped to watch their match. By the end, Thad had been beaten down, but it had been a near thing. Septimus had won, but the big man knew it was only luck and time. There was a mutual respect between the two and a growing friendship. Thad knew that if he faced this man in the arena that Septimus might well kill him.
They all arrived at the train field, freshly shorn, shoed, and belted. He saw doctore standing there with Cato and the other lanista. It was time for the men to take the oath and to commit themselves to becoming gladiators. Thad wanted to laugh at the hypocrisy of it, since none of them had a choice. It was this or death.
Θ
Titus Lucius stood before the men and thought that there were a few that might bring honor and wealth to Ludus Magnus. Certainly at least seven of them were prime athletes and he hoped that the emperor wouldn’t squander them.
“After your oath, you shall be gladiators. This is a great honor, to fight for the glory that is Rome itself. Rome is the world and the world bows at her feet. We as gladiators exemplify Rome and we do so with great honor. To fight and to die for that honor is all that we can hope for,” he said with practiced gravity. His eyes flitted from man to man, gauging their reaction. The four men who had come together, stood apart, their faces carefully blank and Lucius wondered about that. The men were warriors in their own right and Cato and Scauras had mentioned that they were from Sicily, though only the big man looked as though he did. Yet, the men had mirrored each other, if not in looks, in actions and body language.
“I shall evaluate you now as you train in the arena. I shall assign each of you a position. Some of you will be assigned as Provocator, Secutor, Hoplomachus, and Retiarius or such. You shall be given your armament and weapons
