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It took Cynyn smacking the hell out of Thad to bring him around and out of his depression. They had been in the small arena training and Thad was going through the motions. Cynyn had thrown down his sword and walked over to Thad and reached back and open hand smacked him. Thad had been shocked and Cynyn had smacked him again, harder and blood had flowed from Thad’s nose.
“We all have brother who die. You not only one. Get head out of arse,” Cynyn snarled in broken Italian and Thad had looked at him stupidly and then nodded his head. Cynyn went back to pick up his sword and Thad looked around him. There were smiles on the men around him and Thad looked back at Cynyn and then grinned.
“Well, shit, you didn’t have to bitch slap me,” he said and laughed. Cynyn snorted and shook his head and raised his shield and sword, ready to train. Since then, Thad had been a terror in the Colosseum. He had a plan and a purpose; he would earn his freedom as fast as he could. He checked with doctore and he was close. Each bout he fought hard and the crowd was enchanted and spoke his name with reverence. He had seen the senator but not Tullia and was saddened. He wasn’t sure if word had gotten out about Philo and what he’d done.
Time and again, he won and coins came his way. He fought hard and let the grief of loss and the hope to see his friend flow through his sword arm. There was fear too, the more popular he was the more money, but like Dean, the emperor could hold on to him and never free him. He tried not to think of Dean and Zaza, for he knew the joy he felt would show and there was no joy here. He had to try, however, to free himself. He was now feared and respected because any who came up against him knew they would lose. If the emperor was so inclined, they would die by Drago’s blade. The season was drawing to an end and those who were not scheduled to fight Drago breathed a sigh of relief. They were safe until next year.
One morning at training, doctore walked onto the small arena floor. Men were going at it hot and heavy. Thad noticed him but wasn’t paying attention. He was fighting Sulla, one of the Greeks. The man was lightning fast and Thad knew to keep his focus with the man. Sulla was aiming for his top position as king of the hill. Doctore stood watching them and when he didn’t move on, Thad and Sulla stopped their training and turned their attention to doctore.
“I must speak with you, Drago,” doctore said and nodded away from the men. Thad handed his sword and shield to a slave and followed doctore away from the men and the noise.
“Tomorrow, you will be given the rudis by Emperor Domitian. This is a great honor and it has not been presented to a gladiator in many years. Once you are given the rudis, I suggest you leave the arena as quickly as you can. The emperor is a capricious man and may give you the rudis, but then, he may request you stay and fight, which you cannot refuse. Do not linger. Glaucis has your accounts tallied and ready. You shall thank the emperor and then make a graceful exit and leave quickly,” doctore advised.
Thad opened his mouth to say something but closed it. He nodded and looked around numbly, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.
“Go say farewell to your brothers,” doctore said with a slight smile, as though reading his mind. Thad turned then and headed back to the training arena, his brain buzzing loudly. He was leaving, finally, after so long. He felt like laughing and crying and terrified all of a sudden. The men stopped training when they saw him and he took a deep breath. He could only wish that his friends were with him and he might see Dean sooner rather than later.
Thad ‘Drago’ Giangreco walked across the sand, the crowd cheered and the air fairly vibrated with the roar that washed over him. His heart was hammering against his ribs and his mouth was dry. He had spent a long sleepless night, tossing and turning. He saw the senator standing beside the Emperor Titus Flavius Caesar Domitianus Augustus. Thad knew that the emperor could change his mind and he would be sent back down into the catacombs. He was a sick twisted bastard and Thad hoped the man would die a painful death when the time came.
He was careful to keep the hate out of his eyes and his face passive. No need to give the bastard cause. His mouth was so dry that his tongue was stuck up against the roof of his mouth. He tried to bring moisture to his mouth but couldn’t. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to talk because he knew he would humiliate himself. Romans were pitiless and demonstrative fear in a gladiator would have a sword plunged into his chest.
Nearly twenty feet above him, Emperor Domitian looked down his nose, his dark eyes bright and fierce. His eyes shifted over to Senator Pansa, his face reflected excitement and Thad wondered at it. That saw shifting behind Marius Pansa was his daughter, Tullia. His heart flipped at seeing her. He had not seen her in a long time and she was as beautiful as ever.
His eyes curved over her exquisite features and he nearly chuckled at the determined glint in
