The favor was given and Manius was allowed to live. Thad extended his hand, helping the big man up. With the heavy armor of the Hoplomachus, Thad didn’t want Manius humiliated by trying to get up off the ground like a turtle on its back. The crowd seemed to like this and called his name, Drago! He lifted his arms and then he executed a low bow and more cheers erupted and he heard coins hit the ground in soft thumps. He bowed for a few more seconds and then lifted an arm and waved at the crowd. They seemed to like this and waved back. He grinned behind his visor and walked for the exit. He was glad to be alive and he was very glad he won.
Θ
Senator Marius Pansa smiled as he watched the young man exit the amphitheater. He detested these games and he got up, taking his daughter’s arm. He had only come to see young Drago fight. He was an investment after all and Pansa was curious about the man. He wasn’t brash and seemed humble as was his first impression when he met the man at the Ludus. He was a very good fighter. He’d been dubious about the outcome when he’d seen the larger man. It was obvious that Drago was skilled and as he suspected, may have been a soldier at one time.
Pansa had also seen compassion when he’d helped the bigger man up. There had been an opening to kill the man easily, but Drago had chosen not to do it. Pansa had seen enough of the viciousness in the games to last him a lifetime.
“He was wonderful, father,” Tullia said, her voice dreamy. He looked over at her. She had wanted desperately to come to the games. He normally didn’t allow her to see this brutal violence, but the emperor wouldn’t be attending and Drago was fighting and he’d wanted to watch his investment. He had not been disappointed. He didn’t want to linger and moved his daughter along the walkway, away from the seats.
Observing the young man in action confirmed what his first impressions of the man. He was thoughtful, brutal when he had to be, but didn’t go out of his way to be cruel. He was compassionate and had demonstrated showmanship. He smiled at that; the crowd had loved him. They were a vacillating lot and one day could love you, the next they could be baying like hounds for your death. It was no different in the senate. In his youth, Pansa had been a soldier. He had worked his way up the ranks and had settled on a life in politics, as he took over for his father.
Pansa had seen the world and had seen the unimaginable cruelty in it and in Rome. He had wanted to help Rome and her people. However, the unending corruption and depravity in the guise of the emperors who slithered onto the throne was a never-ending hindrance. He could only keep doing and keep pushing for good, for the people of Rome.
He smiled down at Tullia; he truly wanted a better world for her. His sons had died so young and then his lovely wife. He pushed to sorrow down, for it had been many years.
“Yes, daughter, he was indeed.”
Θ
Dean was antsy and shifted back and forth on his toes. Marco was behind him and tapped his shoulders.
“You okay, man? You look like you need to take a piss,” Marco said.
“No man, I’m just nervous about my performance,” Dean said and grinned, the dimples deepening. He wore an open-faced helmet with no face shield. He was a Dimachaerus and luckily, only fought with other Dimachaerus. He had leg wraps with greaves and on one arm he wore a heavily ornate greave. He would fight with two swords and he twirled them restlessly. Marco smiled, Dean wasn’t nervous about the fight, he was fighting a fellow palus tertius. He was nervous about the performance he’d been planning. He and Thad had laughed at him, but figured Dean might as well try.
The gates opened and Dean turned back to wink and then ran out. Dean’s voice drifted back and he heard the crowed roar their approval of his sword play. Mordax was chanted and reverberated off the stone Colosseum. Marco was relieved that the emperor wasn’t there. When the emperor was in attendance, it seemed there was more blood than usual. When the gladiators knew that the emperor was in attendance, they grew worried and restless. The emperor liked to change things up and to switch out fighters. Sometimes, it was very uneven, like he’d done to Greg.
“Fucker,” Marco muttered to himself. It was hard enough trying to survive and to fight a good fight, but when the emperor dipped his fingers in, blood was the result. The clash of metal sounded and resounded and throughout the amphitheater drums banged away. The noise seemed to vibrate in his head. He was coming up on his second bout. If he won this one, he would be moved up to palus secundus rank. He would be a low ranking secundus, but higher up nonetheless. He wasn’t fighting Philo today and was glad. He didn’t know his opponent personally, but the man looked capable of ripping his head off.
He saw Dean come into view and he laughed. Dean was good with his swords and the man was fairly dancing around his opponent. The citizens of Rome had never met a showman like Dean ‘Mordax’ Hofstadter. Dean was brash, but not obnoxious and had a ready smile. Marco shook his head, the women slaves doted on him, from young to old. It was growing near time and he could see that Dean was getting the upper hand. He laughed when Dean
