Septimus brought the sword down but sliced it along his own neck, opening the carotid artery. Marco stared into the big man’s face and Septimus smiled a sweet smile and his body began to rock and then he fell backwards. The crowd was absolutely uncontrollable now and it was mayhem in the stands and Marco looked from Septimus’ body to the emperor, who was stunned and frozen, the shit eating grin gone from his face. Marco laid there, unsure of what to do. Would they now kill him? Would they have an elephant come out and stomp on his head or pour molten metal down his throat or have him ripped apart by horses?
The seconds ticked by and Marco didn’t move and the crowd was screaming now, angry and enraged. The air fairly vibrated with fury from the audience. They were shaking their fists, but at the emperor. Marco watched as the man turned and left his box and disappeared, the Praetorian guard following. Slowly, he got up, his body numb with shock and sorrow. He went over to Septimus, avoiding the large puddle of blood soaking into the sand. The crowd began to quiet and Marco pulled off the big man’s helmet. The gash across his neck looked horrible and Marco swallowed.
He smoothed back the short dark hair from the dead man’s forehead.
“You didn’t have to do that. I would have died and I’d have been okay with it,” he said in a broken whisper. Taking off his helmet, he bent and kissed Septimus’ forehead and then his still warm lips. He heard the crowd began to chant Atrox softly. He took his helmet and stood, bowed to the audience and then walked off the field. His eyes stung with tears but he held them at bay until he could get out of the arena.
When he got to the gate, he saw the stunned faces of the other gladiators. He went past them and began to run, throwing the helmet, shield, and sword to the slave. He moved through the tunnels and let the tears fall in the flickering torchlight. He’d been spared by his friend, but at the expense of his friend’s life. He didn’t know how to feel about that and he shoved the pain down. He knew he would have done it for Dean or Thad; he was only glad he didn’t have to. Would he have done it for Septimus? Would he kill himself for the man? He didn’t know; he couldn’t answer that question.
A month later and the men were still feeling the loss of Septimus. All had been stunned by the turn of events and the doctore and Glaucis were absolutely livid. One of their best gladiators had been pissed away by the emperor. It was wasteful and uncalled for and the crowd had turned ugly over the last weeks. The emperor wisely kept away, much to the relief of the other gladiators. When he had come back, he was met with absolute silence in the amphitheater. Rumors flew around that there might be a revolt, but there wasn’t. Thad hoped by the citizen’s obvious disapproval, that maybe Domitian might think again about arbitrarily killing one of the most popular gladiators.
As it turned out, all of Septimus’ winnings had been willed to Marco, who seemed in a dark mood for days after. Thad’s heart went out for both men. He wasn’t sure what he would have done and thinking about if he was standing over Marco, ordered to kill him, would he have killed himself instead? Maybe? Greater love hath no man and Septimus had laid down his life for Marco. Thad sighed heavily. He hoped that tonight would bring Marco’s spirits up.
He had been invited to Senator Marius Pansa’s villa for an exhibition and party. He was looking forward to it and if it was anything like Felix’s home, the both of them would be eating good. He was looking forward to seeing Tullia and hoped that she would be there. He’d not seem his sponsor at the other games. He knew that Pansa didn’t like them but showed support because of pressure from not only the emperor, but from the senate. He knew that Pansa was also heading back to Sicily soon. Most of the senators spent their time in their regions and came to Rome periodically, most for the games because they couldn’t stand Domitian.
He watched as Marco walked along the passageway and waved at him. Marco smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
“You about ready to go?” Thad asked when Marco reached him.
“I guess. It’ll be nice to get out of here, it’s been a hell of a long time since I’ve stepped foot out of this place,” Marco said.
“What are you talking about, you’ve never been out of here,” Thad said and laughed.
“I’m just looking for some good grub; the shit they serve here gets old fast,” Marco grouched good naturally.
“Did you hear about Philo?” Thad asked.
“No, what did the shitbird do now?”
“He mouthed off to one of the Scots, the one with the missing ear,” Thad said.
“That bastard is a big guy,” Marco said and whistled.
“Yeah, you’d think Philo would have learned after you beat the shit out of him. Anyway, Felix said they were in the latrine and Philo said something and the Scots ignored him or didn’t understand. Philo got all mad and took a piss on the guy’s leg. The guy turns around and beats
