When he first met the young man now known as Mr. Nero, he listened to him preach about Rome's greatness and how that glory was lost, but could be found again if people fought hard enough to bring it back. Like everyone else who heard Mr. Nero's ideas, Matteo thought that Mr. Nero was nuts. However, the more that Matteo listened to him go through his reasoning, the more it started to make sense, at least somewhat. The world really was lacking unity and a return of something like the Roman Empire might be enough to get people on the same side again. Mr. Nero was right about that, and slowly, Matteo found himself thinking along a similar philosophical path.
When Matteo decided to join Mr. Nero on his crusade to bring back Rome as it used to be, his new accomplice was thrilled to have someone with raw physical strength in his corner.
“With what we're doing, things could turn messy very quickly. I expect we will find ourselves in a fight or two by the time we complete our task. People will be resistant...”
That idea made Matteo more excited than he had been in years. He wanted to fight—a real fight. He was so bored of trading punches with boxing gloves. He needed something more visceral and more brutal, the kind of fights that the old gladiators used to have. This might be the only way to ever get to experience that.
If they really could restore the old Rome, then there was still a chance for him to reestablish the Colosseum to what it used to be. Society needed that back, a place where people could give in to their primal nature, either as a fighter or as a viewer. If the matches in the Colosseum seemed grand back then, they’d be a million times bigger now. The entire world would evn be able to watch the fights to the death through streaming. It would be the largest audience the Roman Colosseum had ever had.
Until then, Matteo would be able to get some real life matches under his belt on their way to bringing back Rome.
The two of them wouldn't be able to accomplish it on their own. Matteo brought strength to push through many of their obstacles. Mr. Nero had the charisma and the political knowledge to help put things in place. But it wasn't until Miss Caligula joined that they’d devised a real plan, and real brains to their entire operation. She was quiet and mild mannered but when she spoke, she made all of Mr. Nero's promises and dreams seem tangible.
When it came time to choose what mask he would wear, the choice was obvious enough. There was only one emperor who shared his passion for bloodshed in the Colosseum. There was only one who represented what Matteo was going to fight so hard to bring back: Commodus.
13
WHERE CROWDS CHEERED FOR BLOOD
The Colosseum was in much more disrepair than it would have been during its glory days, but that wasn't a surprise, especially since it’d been standing for so long. A couple thousand years would erode anything, but it was still in relatively good shape, all things considered. Time had taken its toll, and chipped away at parts of the structure. The Colosseum had withstood hundreds of natural disasters in its time, but some earthquakes were enough to bring portions of the Colosseum down. Even some powerful people throughout history had removed portions of the arena to keep as souvenirs. That was one helluva a trophy.
They walked into the Colosseum and despite its worn appearance, the arena was still enough to take Nina's breath away. It must have been so amazing to see back then, a true marvel to behold and a glorious place to visit, whether you were a fighter or a spectator.
The Hypogeum was a series of tunnels and corridors underneath the arena. It was where the gladiators would be brought to wait for their turn to fight. They’d warm up down there, pick out the weaponry they wanted to use, or just sit and contemplate the potential that they were about to die in front of an applauding audience.
It wasn't just the warriors who were kept down beneath the Colosseum. In the times when the crowds were craving to see more exotic violence, beasts from all over the world were transported to Rome to take part in the games at the Colosseum. These animals were taken from their homes, recruited into a contest that they had not consented to; starved and whipped, forced to participate in cruel displays of nature versus mankind. Gladiators were often forced to fight lions to the death. There were no sportsman-like restrictions or honor or respect between the two opponents in those situations. There was just the shared instinct to survive. Crowds would celebrate as fellow human beings were mauled and devoured by wild animals in front of them. Those creatures were imprisoned down here as well, enchained away from their future opponents, ready to be unleashed into the ring.
((CONNECT))
There was no longer a flat, sand-covered arena anymore, so the Hypogeum's structure was visible to the rest of the world. It was rundown just like the Colosseum that surrounded it. The arena had become a pit, and at the bottom of the shallow pit, was the remains of the Hypogeum.
((CONNECT))
Nina dropped down into the pit, right into the ruins of the gladiator barracks. She couldn't imagine having to wait down there for your possible death. Those fighters must have had so much trepidation as they were there. Their nerves must have been so frayed. Some of them probably threw up right there on the floor in front of her. It was like a green room in a theater or a concert hall but a thousand times worse because your performance could decide if you lived or died. The anticipation could literally kill you.
The others followed, all looking around the decrepit Hypogeum. They spread out through the ruins. She wondered if any of them shared the nervous feeling that she was experiencing at the pit of her stomach, or if they were all thinking about how many gladiators used to be in this sub-section of the Colosseum, preparing for their battles above?
For the next two hours, they all searched through the Hypogeum thoroughly. There was no sign of anything like a sword, but Nina wasn't too surprised. If it was easy to spot, then someone who worked at the Colosseum definitely would have found it. She was glad they brought the shovels and spades because underneath the Hypogeum was where she was going to look next. One thing she'd learned from her time of unearthing some of the rarest treasures in the world was that most things had to be dug up to be found; the most valuable of things tended to be buried away from the rest of the world.
She started her dig and the others all started doing the same.
“Do you think that they’ll find it down there?”
Mr. Nero, Miss Caligula, and Mr. Commodus all stood on the upper levels of the Colosseum, hidden out of sight on top of the broken down walls. They all eagerly watched Dr. Nina Gould and her team down in the pit of the Hypogeum, searching for the sword of Caesar.
Mr. Nero watched them closely. The group had come to the Colosseum in quite a hurry. They must have learned something that definitively pointed to this being the hiding place of the sword. If that were true and this was the right location, then the Third Triumvirate might be getting the weapon they needed sooner rather than later.
“Do you think they’ll find it or not?” Mr. Commodus repeated his question, but this time with more annoyance that no one had given him an answer. “Because they don't seem so sure. From up here, they look like little ants, don't they? Look at them. Just little ants scurrying around in a hole.”
“Ants are smarter than you think,” Miss Caligula said, leaning against the wall. “They’re wiser than you, that’s for certain. No question about that.”
Mr. Commodus let out a growl from behind his mask, but Miss Caligula didn't really notice or care. She was constantly reminding the giant man that he was only there for his physical prowess and not for his intelligence. It was a good way to keep him in line, to not let his strength get to his head. If they gave him too much freedom, he’d start getting delusions like the idea that he should be in charge. They couldn't have that.
“Dr. Gould has quite a reputation,” Miss Caligula said. “She’s a specialist who has been all over the world and found all kinds of things. This may be a dead end, but even if it is. She’s going to keep trying to find the sword no matter where it is.”
“So we wer
e right to count on her to get it,” Mr. Nero mused. “I really hope she isn't a disappointment.”
“I don't think she’ll disappoint,” Miss Caligula said confidently.
“What if she doesn't hand over the sword?” Mr. Commodus was always asking questions like that. He was always planning for the worst case scenario, but not to trying to come up with contingencies for those scenarios. Instead, he focused on them in the hopes that they’d come to pass and he would get to get into a fight. “What if she decides it's hers?”
“Then we take it by force,” Mr. Nero said. “We just need her to find it. After that, it doesn't really matter. She won't be of any more use to us. We put her name on our proscriptions for a reason. She’s a potential threat. If she cooperates, we can choose mercy. But if she resists, that only proves why her name is there to begin with.”
The three of them all stood there in silence for a moment, letting the breeze press against them.
“You can feel it too, can't you?” Mr. Nero asked. “You can feel it. We are so close to our goal. Once we have Caesar's sword, it’ll act as a beacon for the others out there that share our dream. It’ll be something to rally around, a symbol that the past has come to change the future. They’ll come and we’ll lead Rome to a new era.”
The three of them turned their attention away from the inside of the arena, instead looking out to the city of Rome that stretched out around them. Rome was still beautiful, to be sure, but these days it shone with a weak dim glow compared to how radiant it must have been during the height of Rome's power. Mr. Nero knew what had to be done. They’d have to extinguish this weak, dying light and then reignite the spark with something so much more powerful. Rome would shine brighter than ever before, a brilliant star in the dark modern world. He couldn't wait to show all of the other inferior nations what a real super power was.
It all depended on finding Caesar's sword. That was a real symbol of Roman power. Once that was unearthed and brought back from the past, then so could the rest of Ancient Rome. The old world would rise from the dirt and take its rightful place back on the planet. The Third Triumvirate would make sure of that.
They went back to watching Nina Gould's team down below. They were all rummaging around the broken tunnels of the Hypogeum. So far it didn't look like they’d found anything significant. Once they did, then the Third Triumvirate would make their move. They wouldn't let the sword of Caesar stay in the hands of people like that for long. They didn't truly understand the significance of what they were after. They knew it was important but they didn't see how it could change the world, they didn't believe.
Once the sword was theirs, the Third Triumvirate would ensure everyone could see why the sword of Caesar was so vital to bringing back Rome. They’d all believe.
It must have been an hour or two of searching when Nina hit something hard. She looked over to see if anyone else had heard it and sure enough, her whole team was staring at her with some anxiousness. Riley's eyes were wide with excitement and she shuffled over to Nina. The two looked down at the Earth that Nina was digging through hastily.
“It might just be a rock...” Nina muttered, mostly to keep herself from getting too worked up over it. “Or some stone slab or...”
“Oh stop,” Riley snickered. “Go on and find out.”
Nina reached into the hole she had dug, right through the dirt and muck that had been beneath the Colosseum for thousands of years. She was pushing her hand through mud that the people who built the Colosseum might have stepped on. She was reaching straight into the depths of long dead history, searching for the remnants of an ancient civilization. She just hoped that it was the piece of the old world that she wanted to find. She took hold of whatever was down there, and brushed some dirt out of the way to get a better look at it.
It was a chest made of stone. Nina heaved it from the earth and placed it down beside the hole she had dug. Everyone gathered around her, looking down at the discovery. Given its size, it could definitely contain a sword. The box had writings and symbols carved into it, most of it was written in Latin. That was one dead language that Nina was relatively familiar with. But she didn't need to read the rest of the words to get excited. She saw Caesar's name carved into the stone.
Her palms were sweating but she grabbed the top of the chest and pulled it open. The smell inside wasn't pleasant. It was musty and rank, but she shouldn't have been too surprised considering how long it had apparently been buried in the dirt. That chest had been hidden down there since long before the collapse of the Roman Empire.
There was a sword resting inside of the stone box. It was a Roman gladius.
“Is that?” Riley gasped.
Elijah bent over to get a closer look, crouching right beside Nina. Nina looked to him for confirmation but he just pursed his lips and adjusted his glasses like he usually did when he was intrigued.
“It’s certainly an old gladius.”
“Well, of course it is,” Riley said with some exasperation. “But is it the one?”
“It's got to be,” August chimed in from behind them. “We followed all of the clues that led to the sword of Caesar. We went to Egypt where Mark Antony took it. We went here where Commodus supposedly brought it. The only sword that would make sense is Caesar's.”
“Or some gladiator might have buried a sword one time...” Elijah said but even he looked unconvinced by his own attempt to play devil's advocate. He flashed a big smile. It was so rare for him to smile like that; he must have been very excited. “Or...it really did belong to Julius Caesar himself.”
Nina put her hand around the hilt of the gladius and pulled it up out of the box. It was so light and she was nervous that the rusty old blade was going to shatter if she shook it too hard. It’d been lying in a box for almost two thousand years and had aged as she expected.
“We did it, didn't we?” Riley asked, looking both nervous and excited.
Nina examined the sword in her hand. All of the breadcrumbs they’d followed, every detail that they’d tracked down led to beneath the Colosseum. And here they were, with a sword in their possession. “I think...I think we did.”
“You did indeed,” a voice thundered from behind them.
Three figures were stepping through the ruins of the Hypogeum. Their faces were gray and their expressions were frozen. Their eyes were solid and never moved. Nina recognized those faces immediately.
“Forgive us for interrupting the precious moment,” the one in the center declared. Nina recognized him as the one who had ambushed her in the hotel room, Mr. Nero. He’d spoken the most to her by far.
The others, Miss Caligula and Mr. Commodus, flanked him as they approached through the ruins until the three of them all stood shoulder to shoulder in front of Nina and her team. There was something so unnerving about three pairs of lifeless eyes of rock staring at them.
“We couldn't help but watch from the audience,” Miss Caligula said, pointing up at the Colosseum's rows of stands all around the pit. “And what a show we got to see! For a minute there, I honestly didn't think you were going to find it. Was worried this would’ve just been another dead end.”
“How long have you been following us?” Nina asked.
The giant Mr. Commodus let out a booming laugh behind his mask.
“Since the moment we left your hotel room,” Mr. Nero said. “Tailed you to the museum. Watched you dive out of that police car. That was quite the Houdini act you pulled on them. They're still probably looking for you. Then we followed you all the way here. To the Great Roman Colosseum itself. Who would’ve thought that Caesar's sword would be resting in a place like this? Resting in the same place that slaves and gladiators used to die. I don't know what Commodus was thinking...what do you think, Mr. Commodus? Do you know what your namesake had going through his head?”
The lumbering Mr. Commodus shook his own head.
“No, I don't either,” Mr. Nero said with a shrug. “But here we are all the same. I’d just like to
thank you for finding it for us, Dr. Gould. Now it’s time to make good on the conversation we had in your bed, and give me the sword.”
INTERLUDE 2 – THE MASK OF MR. NERO
Salvatore Rizzo didn't consider himself Italian. He never had. He was descended from warriors, from conquerors. No, he wasn't Italian. He was Roman. A true Roman. He always had been. And he wanted all of the other Romans to remember what they were, too. He wanted them to cherish where they really came from, who they truly represented, and to act like they understood what that meant.
So many people didn't even try to change the world. They didn't even try or even bother to consider what could happen if they did. They were just content being like the other seven billion people on the planet. There had been too many generations between them and their ancestors that had shed their blood from the Roman Empire. Too many families had forgotten their heritage. They’d disregarded what those who came before them had fought to preserve.
Sal's family had never forgotten. From father to son, for hundreds of years, they were reminded of their great legacy. Sal's father had told him all about his hopes for the return of the true Rome. Sal had the same hopes as his father before him. They all believed in that dream until their dying breaths and Sal would believe in it too until that exact moment of his own. He hoped, though, that he’d see it come to fruition long before his death. Even better, if he could actively bring about Rome's return, then he would do all of his ancestors proud.
He knew Ancient Rome hadn't been a perfect place, no place was, but the unity it brought to so many lands would be so beneficial in the divided world that surrounded him. The old Roman Empire, adapted for the modern world of course, was exactly what the planet needed. Divisions had become too thick and too extreme, where every minor country now was completely independent from each other. It inspired nothing but isolationism and made bitterness toward neighbors even more apparent. There was no common goal, no common ruler anymore.
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