The Far Arena

by Richard Ben Sapir

  I realized only then, separated by centuries and miles, that I was not only most Roman of them all, I was the only Roman of them all. Eugeni, the Greekling.

  And it was not the best century to be such. The barbarians had civilized themselves, and why not? The patricians were now less than dust, and even the tombs of marble could not keep their bodies from becoming part of the air and land. Was that what tombs were for ? To keep the bodies from feeding the ground ? To keep your bowels from contenting a dog who would defecate your remains for the afternoon glory of a lily ?

  It was no big thing at all. Even without the senate voting me guilty of maiestas, what would I have been ? Had they made me a god, and had marble images lined every road for every mile in every land, who would know me today ? Only to reproduce the sounds of my name and recount happenings they did not understand?

  Domitian was remembered. Olava knew his name his birth, his death, and some triumphs attributed to him. And what did he have? The unflawed stupidity of exerting oneself for later generations, called posterity, banged me like bound rods across the nose. Many great men talked of it as the most significant achievement. Men who would not so much as lift a piece of bread for someone sitting at their side would march themselves and thousands of comrades to destruction, just so that other people, who could never possibly know them or even return so much as a seeable nod, would think approvingly of them.

  With a fingernail I made a scratch on the bark of the tree I leaned against. The tree would grow that mark away, as though it had never been. And why not? I should not have even intruded myself upon its skin.

  There was nothing here for me, not even hate. In a time when there were no slaves, I did not even have dominion over my urine, which was taken away daily to be examined.

  I allowed the moments of the long night to pass, and I understood how I could in a small way make things right.

  There was a place I could go to where I would be home. I rubbed leaves on my blade to make it shiny. I rested its pommel on a rock lest it sink into the ground. And I knelt before the rock and touched the point to my chest.

  I faced south. I knew, because the new blood sun was coming up from my left, unless of course it had changed. Many things change in a long, long time. I would have to plunge myself down in such a way that the blade went up into my heart. A small animal moved through the dead leaves. 1 smelled the trees and listened to the sharp, seldom-heard sounds of morning in this north country. I lifted myself away from the blade and examined the point. I had time now. There was no need to rush this. I tried to sharpen the point against the rock, but I only dulled it.

  Demos, a slave I once had, could take a blade even of raw iron and craft a point and edge on it to slice cloth. Not improving the blade, I put the pommel back on the rock and prepared to die.

  I made myself quiet within myself and waited for my body to suddenly do the rest in a solid lunge to earth. When the sun was yellow, and the morning heat came upon me, I knew I was not going to kill myself. I was not Roman enough. The Greekling and gladiator were too much in me to end my misery in so Roman a fashion. I was a slave to my desire to live and, surrendering to that, a slave to the wants of my body. There was no Aurelius to free me from this bondage. I descended the small hill and found a stream with water. The taste was horrible. It had been either poisoned or infected with some putrid substance. Near the stream was a road, not of good rock, but black and soft to the foot, that stretched like dark, flat honey up one hill south and down another north. Should I take this road to its farthest extremity in either direction, it would not lead me to where I wished to go.

  On these roads, built for enclosed chariots that needed no horse and were called 'automobiles', meaning things that moved by themselves, did I rest, careful to stay off the road itself. The automobiles moved faster than horses and probably required less skill to operate, once one knew what to do. Everything did today.

  Suddenly I noticed one had stopped. A large man opened a front door and came towards me. It was Lewus, and I was happy to see this face because I recognized it.

  He was grim, and I could see distaste and determination on his face. In his right hand, he held a metal bashing piece with a tube. How I knew it was a weapon, I do not know. But I knew he was prepared to kill with it, and assumed so with the way he carried it, for it was not a package, and one knows by the gravity of step that a novice is ready to kill. ‘

  He looked down at me, and I rose to my feet, and he still looked down at me. I motioned to him that it was all right. I pushed my thumb into my chest to tell him that he should strike there. Did he want me to fight in order to kill me ?

  I made menacing motions with my blade. He remained as a statue, face and body carved by some barbaric sculptor. I struck my chest lightly with my blade and nodded to his metal weapon. I smiled to show him it was what I wanted. I frowned to show him I was a menace. I put the point up to his throat to indicate he would die if I did not. But he shook his head and put the thing in his pocket, and put one of his large arms, with the yellow hair on the back of his hand, around my shoulder and said sadly:

  'Come, let us go.'

  'You speak my language. Then listen. Kill me now. Do it. Do it for me.'

  'No,' said Lewus, and I knew he wouldn't. Some men cannot or will not. No big thing. In the automobile, Olava and Semyonus were in the back. 'Eugeni. Eugeni. Are you all right ?' Olava asked. Semyonus also wanted to know how I felt, ifeel sad, I said.

  'But are you all right ?' asked Olava.

  'For someone who is alive when he wishes to be dead, yes.'

  'Semyonus wants to know if you suffer any dizziness ?'

  'Leave him alone,' said Lewus in my language. He was angry. His massive neck reddened, and his teeth grated.

  ‘I didn't know you spoke Latin well,' said Olava, surprised.

  'Four years in younger school, four in older school. Along with other languages.'

  'That surprises me,' she said.

  'Because all bigotry doesn't hide behind a white sheet or a swastika,'he said.

  I asked what white sheets meant and what that hard-to-pronounce word symbolized. Olava said there were groups that excluded people and fostered hate for the excluded people for being inferior.

  I ignored her because I never was all that interested in religious cults anyway.

  The automobile moved quickly, but with such ease that it did not appear quick. The comfort was like sitting in one's own peristilium. A wheel steered the automobile. There were three levers oh the floor and a stick with a handle that came up to the wheel. The right lever released the power, the one next to it applied brakes, and the other had to be worked in conjunction with the stick. The automobile worked on gears operated by the stick, but to get the proper gears into readiness for alignment, one had to press the far lever on the floor, without looking, of course, because one had to use one's eyes for the road.

  Automobiles were stolen often, but not as often as they might be, because they required a key for a lock to start the car. Lewus owned the key.

  Olava said Semyonus was afraid of my carrying the blade. He wanted me to give it to Olava. She reached for it but I refused.

  'His absurd fears are his problems, not mine,' I said.

  'He is afraid because of what you did to the other gladiator in the culina.'

  'He was not a real gladiator in the real sense. He never killed before or walked on sand. I knew that. Nevertheless, Semyonus and I are not matched. Does he think I walk about killing people ? What is the matter with him ?'

  I was hungry, but Olava refused to give me food or drink until I handed her my blade. I did so, and she gave me apples and cheese and wine she had brought with her in case they found me. Then I took back the blade.

  I did not drink the wine, but ate the apple quickly, down to its core of black seeds. I looked at the dark seeds a long time then threw them through an open window. This window had glass that went up and down by rolling a lever. I hoped the seeds fell on good gro
und. And where was my seed ? On what ground had Petronius fallen or planted his seed? This bothered me, although it is hard to isolate that you are bothered when you would willingly discard your life. Yet this thought had discovered an as yet unused area of misery for me. My seed was out there, unprotected by me, unadvised by me, unsupported by me, loose and free and probably victim to any passing disaster of life; if Petronius reproduced, and if his seed reproduced, and so on.

  'Why did you not kill me, Lewus ?’

  'You knew?'

  'Yes.'

  'I couldn't I didn't want to. I don't know.' ‘You were going to kill Eugeni ?' asked Olava. ‘It doesn't matter,' said Lewus.

  'You said the gun was for our protection,' said Olava, bruised justice resonating in voice and face. 'I said lots of things, idiot' 'I thought she was a scholar,' I said.

  'She is, and the second biggest fool in the car, the first being me.'

  'Lewus, you would not kill Eugeni’ said Olava. 'I didn't, did I?'

  'Why would you want to ?' said Olava. Lewus said it was complicated.

  There were many trees and the land was green and all about us was new, fresh life. I watched Lewus's feet operate the levers on the floor.

  We left the dark road for a muddy dirt one. That brought us to a house made of unfinished wood. Despite its rough appearance it had glass and inside the floor was covered. There was the power of electricity for the lights, and a finely finished large box which made heat for cooking, a larger box for cooling things, and a black thing that looked as though it had a handle, which I was told not to pick up, because it was complicated and I did not know how to use it On this thing, you could talk and hear voices from it

  I was told to be careful here, because there were not the safeguards that were in the hospital. 1 should ask before I touched anything.

  Olava told me not to touch the square box that was the hearth. She said it was all right to touch ihe box that made things cold. I asked her what the argument was about. She said it was about nothing, which did not mean it was about nothing, but meant there was something she did not wish to discuss with me.

  'It's about me,' said Lewus.

  My right leg, from so much strenuous running, hurt again. It had subsided in pain after that first month of awakening, but the night of running had aggravated it again. Semyonus examined it worked his hands around, and patted me on the face.

  'He says you will be fine. Can he look at your tongue now?' said Olava. 'No.'

  'He is your friend.' 'No more than you are, really,' I said. 'She has been your friend, your only friend, Eugeni,' said Lewus.

  'I don't feel warmth for you,' I said to Olava. 'I don't. I don't know why, but I don't. I just don't, I like you, but I need more for a friend. I never had a friend, not even you.'

  She thought about this a moment, and she said that was all right And for some reason, that it was all right was the very reason I could not feel warmth for her.

  'I tried to feel warmth. I thought I did. I don't,' I said.

  'I understand,' she said.

  'Is there nothing you don't understand?'

  'I don't understand Lewus,' she said.

  Lewus was at the white-painted box that made things cold. It had a door. It was almost as tall as Lewus. It was well provisioned, and from it he took a cup of glass with a metal top that made a sound when it was pried off. The cup was so plentiful, even poor people would discard it, I was told. The drink was mead, called beer. I did not want any.

  Lewus slumped into a backed chair, as most chairs were in the room, which, in the modern custom, also faced out to the outside.

  He took the object he had pointed at me, and put it on a table in front of him. Then he wept, his giant body sobbing.

  'I don't know how it got this far. I don't know how it got this far.'

  'You were going to kill Eugeni,' said Olava angrily.

  'Yes. No. Never. Maybe,' said Lewus. He tried to talk to her in my language, and then he gave up. Olava quite skilfully translated into a language Semyonus understood, but which was not his. It was their common language, much like my language would be a common tongue for Greek and Egyptian. The new common language was English, made up partly of Latin and partly of a Germanic tongue, although it was woefully hard to recognize words.

  'Fuck it,' said Lewus, the 'it' being in my language, the fuck' being his, which was a negative response to things, even though the literal translation would have been copulation - copulation in certain circumstances having negative connotations, although the word itself did not imply only negative copulations. It was a swear word like 'Mar’s ass’ or 'breast sucker’. Lew needed to say that word. He apologized to Olava for its use, it being a breach of manners to be said before a woman, especially one of her cult The problem was that a murder had been committed.

  'Who was murdered?' I asked.

  The gladiator you killed,' said Lewus.

  'Yes?'

  'That was a killing crime,' said Lewus.

  The gladiator with the sword, the tin one? The thin sword with the heavy pommel and the clever hand shield for the sword hand?'

  'That one,' said Lewus.

  I looked to Olava and shrugged.

  'How is this a crime?' I asked.

  'It is not a crime. Eugeni. Don't worry about it. We'll worry,’ said Olava.

  'We don't have games today,' said Lewus. 'Not your kind. And outside of the arena, even in your time, what you did would be a crime, or, at least warrant some action by a magistrate.'

  'And if my blood spilled in your kitchen?'

  'Then he would face trial. Ironic. If it could be proven that he initiated this action, he would have been charged.'

  'If there is no crucifixion, how would he be punished?'

  'He would be kept in confinement for a long time. We confine people today for punishment'

  'And he would be starved and beaten?' I asked.

  'No,' said Lewus.

  'Perhaps people have changed,' I said, although I suspected there were further explanations to be had on this matter, otherwise cities would be unsafe. Of course, Rome was never safe either.

  'It is unfair to try Eugeni,’ said Olava. 'He was only doing what he was taught and doing it well, because the only person who ever loved him or showed him love was his lanista. That which he did better than anyone else was entertaining in the games.'

  Semyonus had a discussion with Olava, and he was furious. He was not going to let me go to trial. He would put Lewus on trial. Olava agreed with him. Lewus should go on trial. Lewus belched a deep, gaseous resonance and got himself another metal-topped goblet. He said the swear word again.

  Semyonus was so excited by all this he did a thing he had tried to avoid or limit in my presence, he lit a small paper-covered tube of herbs and smoked it. It was supposed to calm his nerves. It smelled awful. It did not burn his throat but was bad for him physically. He was addicted to it. He hoped I did not mind his indulging. The habit was new. Two hundred, three hundred years old at most. A tenth my age.

  I examined the glass goblet, it never ceasing to amaze me how common evenness was, so cheaply produced also, machines providing much of the slave labour.

  I also did not care that much.

  'Silence,' I said. 'Now hear me. I did not ask for this resurrection, nor did I seek it. I died my death, and if 1 had been left alone to sleep painlessly until the ice thawed and the poison took eftect, as you said it would, it would have been over as it should have been. I do not belong here, I don't even have any enemies. Lewus, you found me, you kill me.'

  'Fuck you, you kill me,' said Lewus.

  'That was my next threat,' I said.

  T figured. Look. Maybe I'll kill you tomorrow. We can always kill you. With even better things'than guns. We've got pills that are poison.'

  T wouldn't take it. I don't want to die. I want to be dead. Do you understand ? Pills are often slow.' 'Yes,' said Lewus.

  Olava said one should never surrender to despair. She wanted
an explanation from Lewus about his violation of trust, and she wanted to know what his real interests were.

  Semyonus seemed to agree. And Lewus, with the tedium of a beaten man, explained. Olava and Semyonus seemed to have difficulty understanding very clearly.

  The fuel of this world was oil. Lewus scientifically looked for this oil. It was very valuable. They were looking in order to know what to bid on land. If everyone found out what they knew, they would lose a bidding advantage.

  Unfortunately, Lewus found me. More unfortunately, Semyonus performed a great feat of medicine.

  At this, Semyonus interrupted with gravity and said that it was not that great.

  'Tell him, Olava, it did not have to be great, only that people think it is great/1 said.

  As things went, should it become known what had happened to me and what I survived and then where I came from, and then who I was - these things making Lewus's problems worse all the time - there would have been such great interest that the clamour would have uncovered this extra find Lewus was working on.

  Fearing exposure, Lewus tried to get us all here to this secluded house. He used the inept gladiator to convince Olava and Semyonus - who at that time would follow Olava - that their work would be jeopardized because I was a liar and would embarrass them, making their believability suspect.

  What he failed to do, I explained to Olava, was get a good gladiator for this purpose.

  'He was our best.'

  'Not a good test, Lewus. Not someone I would have represent your age. I cannot believe that is the best you could buy.'