Contest between man and beast concluded with more speed than I had anticipated, ending with the Lion-Slayer's spear piercing the animal's chest in a mortal blow.
Sensing eyes upon me, I looked toward the pulvinus box, where Messalla had his cruel gaze locked on me. I knew the man, likely better than he knew his own mind. In that moment, I resigned myself to the notion I would soon share living space with a lion.
27 Augustus, 117
Messalla's trip to Rome had yielded him the prize he'd sought. He now owned a Barbary lion caught by venatores, the bestiarii hunters in the Roman Empire's Province of Africa Proconsularis. It had taken three full tinctures of poppy milk to subdue the beast sufficiently following the auction. Upon arrival in Rusellae, six men were required to carry the unconscious body of the animal into the barrack underneath the villa of the House of Messalla.
Before the men brought the lion indoors, Messalla had sent instructions via Doctore Rutilius, the lead trainer of the ludus, to reassign three of my brothers to alternative accommodations. Now, the only vacant cells were the two on either side of the lion's new home, directly across the dirt aisle from mine.
"That we haven't a single bestiarius in our midst seems to matter not," Naevius grumbled to me.
I offered him a quiet laugh. "Given the placement of the beast, I suspect that charge will fall upon me."
Naevius slapped me on the back. "Extend greetings to my beloved wife in the afterlife, dearest friend. You are sure to enter the domain of the dead sooner than I."
The crack of a whip interrupted our convivial banter.
"The hour is late," Doctore shouted in that deep, booming voice. "Enter your cells for much-needed sleep, gladiators. Training will resume at first light."
After Doctore locked all the men in their cells and snoring droned throughout the barrack, I stepped out into the aisle with a full amphora of wine as my chaperone. Freedom of movement in the barrack at all times was a perquisite afforded me as champion by virtue of spilt blood, decayed morals, and scarred flesh, all given up in noble service to the House of Messalla.
The lion stirred from its opium-assisted slumber upon my approach.
Barbary lions were large, but in the arena they had more than ample space to roam and charge despite their chains, and none of them I'd ever seen had appeared too terribly daunting in comparison to such intimidating surroundings. The prone beast before me nearly filled a cell more than roomy enough for a man to move about in freely. I scrutinized the animal with due diligence, studying my opponent-to-be.
The lion's head was easily six times the size of my own, with a dark mane from ears to shoulder above and from jaw to groin below. A darkened scar, perhaps from the claws of a rival lion, marred its right shoulder. The underbelly fur appeared thick and soft, tempting for me to touch while the beast retained signs of unconsciousness. Then the animal let out a deep groan and sighed, as if aware of my presence, and the focus of its golden eyes soon locked on to my gaze. The tufted tail twitched against the dirt floor, clearly indicating agitation. I decided it prudent to keep my hands to myself.
"A pity you don't understand me," I said in a calm, quiet tone. "You have no idea what's in store for you, but I know. Apologies in advance for taking your life, but that is what I must do to prolong my own."
Messalla entered the barracks accompanied by his second wife, the young and beautiful Galeria Regilla. They came directly over to me.
I rose to my feet and gave the couple a courteous nod. "Dominus. Domina."
"A truly magnificent creature." Messalla maintained a respectful distance from the lion's cell. "Our house will be the envy of the Empire on the day you are charged with its slaughter, Noctua Audax."
Anger roiled inside me with harsh intensity, but to defy Messalla too brazenly would bring only punishment. "Gratitude for deeming me worthy of the task, Dominus."
Another deep, nasal sigh emanated from the lion, and Messalla granted the cell additional berth. "There has been recent chatter among many in my periphery regarding my gladiators' lack of training in the ways of the bestiarii. I am here to solicit your thoughts on the topic."
My response required tact, another skill largely lacking in me. I glanced at the lion and then returned my attention to Messalla. "As a thinking beast, I trust in my ability to outmaneuver one relying solely on instinct." I couldn't help but flash a sly smile, preying on the man's excess of prideful self-opinion. "I will do my best not to damage the pelt any more than necessary, Dominus. To sully its display potential would be criminal."
"You favor me with your dedication." Messalla turned to his wife and offered her his arm. "Attend me, beloved."
Her sweet, demure voice barely exceeded a whisper. "If it pleases you, husband, I would enjoy spending a few more moments in the presence of the great lion. The noble beast will be with us for so short a time, and such rare beauty is a fleeting thing surely meant for our full enjoyment."
"You know I can deny you nothing, wife, but do not keep me waiting for too long." Messalla kissed her on the forehead then took his leave.
Galeria waited until the heavy iron door clanged shut behind Messalla before she spoke to me. "Apologies on behalf of my husband. I know you find the prospect of killing such a beautiful creature a repulsive act, as I do."
I sighed in tandem with the lion. "The daughter of Senator Marcus Galerius Regillus possesses wisdom beyond her years—wisdom best kept to herself."
"Worry not." Dimples appeared in her cheeks as she smiled. "I treat my husband as untrusted serpent, never turning my back to him while seeking opportunity to crush his head underfoot. Exercise an open mind in that pursuit, Noctua Audax, and I will see to your reward."
Sparks like stone on flint crackled along my spine at the thought of ending the wretched excuse for a man. I bowed my head to the lady of the house. "I am ever in your service, Domina."
She draped the long train of her stola over one arm before departing the den of many sleeping men and one groggy cat. I returned to my cell, stretched out on my side atop the thin straw-filled mattress, and set my gaze on the lion.
No sooner than I had achieved a state of relative comfort, the lion lifted its head without any sign of lethargy. It stood, stretched, and shook out its mane, sure movements indicating no residual hindrance from the poppy milk. After a brief walk in a tight circle, the lion lifted its nose and parted its jaws slightly to sample the scent wafting on the air. Then, I swear it looked straight at me, turned to show me its backside, and then lifted its tail. A forceful stream of piss sprayed between the bars of its cage to spatter where Messalla had stood, as if the lion were offering commentary on the man.
I couldn't contain my laughter. "My sentiments exactly."
6 September, 117
Ten days of intensive training culminated in games once again hosted by the House of Messalla. We lost two young gladiators in the days prior to the event—one man to the consumption of too much wine and the other to sheer exhaustion. My many years of service, fortunately, had left me virtually immune to both afflictions.
As was his custom, Messalla came down to the resident house's barrack in the Amphitheater at Rusellae to impart an inspirational speech.
Doctore cracked his whip. "Attend! Dominus will have words."
My brothers and I formed a straight line in the barrack aisle.
Messalla clasped his hands together at the small of his back and began slowly pacing in front of us. "Today we face the House of Crassus, whom we outclass down to the last man, despite personal reluctance to set my gladiators upon ill-trained men. However, the lanista Lucius Herennius Crassus would hear nothing of forfeiture. So be it. I will see his foolhardiness result in the death throes of his ludus. You will demonstrate no mercy during your matches, and you will give no quarter at their conclusions. Let history remember this day as the downfall of the House of Crassus and that it was the fucking House of Messalla that made it so!"
A roaring cheer went up from the men, myself in
cluded, as I silently cursed Messalla's name.
Messalla thrust a fist up into the air. "Why do you fight?"
My brothers and I answered as one. "We fight for honor and glory!"
Again, Messalla thrust a fist toward the heavens. "For whom do you fight?"
The men shouted the expected response. "We fight for the House of Messalla!"
Messalla raised both hands in triumph. "Tonight, we rain death down upon the House of Crassus! Armor up!"
Following a sufficient amount of cheering for Messalla's battle speech, I returned to my cell, even though I had already prepared for the games. Despite that my opponent would be the lion, I wore my usual armor—meaning none at all. Known far and wide as bold but reckless, which had earned me my second name, I wore only padded fascia leggings for protection. To the delight of Rusellae's citizenry, I donned no breastplate, no protection for my arms, and no helmet. They thought my refusal of armor was for their amusement, but my most reliable skills were my fleetness of foot, my sensitive hearing, and my visual acuity, all of which I found compromised by traditional gladiatorial gear.
Messalla came into my cell. "You will not face the lion today, Noctua Audax."
Surprise proved an inadequate word. "Have I done something to displease you, Dominus?"
"To the contrary," Messalla said. "Our triumph over the House of Crassus will come easily—too easily. Victory gained without effort doesn't rile up the crowd, and I do not want them walking away disappointed. Thus, I am prepared to offer a sacrifice to appease them. As my champion, you will face the best Crassus gladiator in the final match. Naevius will face my lion in your stead."
My blood ran cold. An exceptional gladiator Naevius was not, even when faced with a mere man. Such a match would result in his murder, plain and simple.
"Please, Dominus," I said. "Do not do this, I beg of you. Naevius is a good man and my truest friend."
Messalla's stone-cold gaze sent another shiver of dread through me. "And I am your owner, slave. You will do as you are told, or you will suffer extreme consequences regardless of your value to this house."
I had no choice but to comply, and my powerlessness in that situation solidified my willingness to help Messalla's young wife become a young widow.
"As you command, Dominus." I took a deferential step backward, bowing my head. "Apologies for my brash tongue."
Messalla left without another word.
*~*~*
After three hours of primus matches, the House of Crassus was down to only one living gladiator, a man well beyond his best years whom I knew to be heartbreakingly close to retirement and freedom. Along with the name of Messalla, I cursed Crassus as well. Had Crassus listened to reason and forfeited these games, the man standing before me would have his wooden rudis sword in hand, etched with the declaration of his status as a freedman.
The aging gladiator Declus fought valiantly. With blood pouring from a serious gash in his thigh from my sword, he fell to the ground and sprawled onto his back. As I raised my hand to strike the killing blow, Declus raised two fingers in the missio. I gazed up at the pulvinus box for a decision.
Messalla stood, patiently listening as the fever-struck crowd chanted in favor of the kill. He extended his right hand and turned his thumb toward the ground.
Setting my focus on the pleading eyes of the man under threat of my blade, I couldn't do it. I threw down my weapon in disgust and helped him to his feet. Shocking me, the people of Rusellae expressed their approval of my defiance with boisterous applause.
"May the gods bless you and those in your care," Declus said to me, barely able to stand without my support. "Gratitude for your mercy."
Attendants from the opposing house's barrack rushed over and relieved me of Declus. After acknowledging the crowd as they continued to chant my name, I went to the doorway of my familia gladiatorium's barrack.
Naevius was standing there, and I had to force myself to lay eyes upon him. I had spared a stranger's life today, but I could offer no salvation for the man dearest to me. The world was a callow, heartless place indeed.
"You are not to blame for this," Naevius said. He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and gave a fond squeeze. "I will reunite with my beloved wife in the afterlife on this day. This is a time of great joy for me, Noctua, not a day for sorrow."
Trumpets blared. I embraced my friend for the last time, and then I watched him with despair in my heart as he strode proudly into the arena. The trapdoor in the center of the sand opened and the platform rose, only this time I knew the lion. The dark, jagged scar on its right shoulder stood out against the tawny fur as the glaring light of the midday sun struck it.
When the mechanism stopped moving, the lion leapt off the platform. A thick chain dragged along in the sand behind the animal as it circled Naevius, prowling. Unlike the one that had perished in the arena during the games against the House of Bucco, this lion didn't roar or lunge. Instead, the stunning beast eyed the spear in Naevius's hand with evident caution and far too much intelligence for my comfort.
A quiet, docile lion didn't offer suitable spectacle, and the collective voices of the spectators rose in volume and pitch in expression of their displeasure. The lion paced alongside the wall, looking up with a snarl when someone pummeled it with spoilt fruits and vegetables. Sent into a rage, it reared up on its hind legs and swung a paw at the offender, eliciting an instant cheer from the crowd. The distraction gave Naevius time to move in.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted to the top of my lungs. "Naevius! Lead the lion around the base of the platform to shorten its chain!"
Without removing his rapt attention from the lion, Naevius nodded acknowledgment of my message. He backed away, step by careful step, while taunting the beast by baring his teeth and making jabbing motions with his spear.
The lion swiped at the ground with a massive paw, sending up a shower of sand and pebbles. It glared in my direction, emitting a bone-rattling roar before charging toward Naevius with obvious purpose. The lion chased Naevius once around the platform, but then it suddenly veered to the outside and isolated my friend between the platform and the chain. Faster and with more cunning than any lion I had ever seen before, this one rushed forward and used the length of iron chain to knock Naevius off his feet.
The tactic sealed Naevius's fate. He stabbed at the encroaching lion once, twice, thrice, but accomplished nothing more than inflicting an insignificant wound and shattering the wooden handle of his spear against the mighty animal's relentless attack. A vicious pounce with protractible claws laid waste to Naevius's belly, ripping him open and spilling his innards onto the sand.
Hatred with a potency I had never before experienced welled up inside me, the emotion irreparably hardening my heart against my master in that one horrific moment. I didn't blame the lion; it was only an animal, albeit uniquely intelligent, possessing an intrinsic instinct for survival. The beast was not at fault. I foisted responsibility for Naevius's demise squarely on the weak and narrow shoulders of Decimus Fabius Messalla.
With no regard for my own safety, I rushed out onto the field, outrunning the men charged with subduing the lion and the two attendants tasked with dragging Naevius's body into the barrack.
I dropped to my knees beside Naevius, who continued to draw breath, and I cradled his head on my lap. "Upon sight of your beloved Aelia in the afterlife, tell her I envy her of your company. Of all men who have crossed paths with me in this world, I have loved you most of all."
Naevius laughed, then grimaced in pain and sputtered blood. He somehow summoned the strength to raise a hand and placed his cold, perspiring palm against my cheek. "Truth is you only love me because you covet my massive cock."
"An elusive prize, I must admit." I stroked his sweat-soaked hair and started rocking, easing him on his way. "Safe journey, Naevius. I will miss you more than you know."
In my arms, on the sands of the arena in Rusellae before five thousand people or more, Naevius drew l
ast breath. The attendants quickly divested me of his corpse, even as the beast-handlers subdued the lion. Looking up at the pulvinus box and the truly monstrous creature lording over it, I remained on my knees, but not in earnest supplication to my master. I prayed to whichever gods might be watching on this darkest of days, pleading for them to show me the way to end a man unworthy of precious life.
*~*~*
We arrived back at the ludus shortly after nightfall. Messalla, as expected, had provided well for the men in celebration of the fallen House of Crassus. The crude tables in the communal dining area of the barrack overflowed with all manner of sumptuous delicacies and abundance of drink. House slaves, both female and male, were offered up to the gladiators for sexual purpose. I dismissed a blond Germanic youth too eager for his own good, as well as a dark-haired Greek boy with chalk-white skin, all before reaching the relative solitude of my cell. My mood was not remotely compatible with camaraderie, carnal pursuits, or the consumption of food. A full amphora, the largest I could find, constituted my only desired companionship on this dreadful night.
In front of the cell across the aisle, I stopped and swilled down a greedy amount of wine. An engraved bronze sign now hung from the bars of the lion's cell, heat still emanating from the metal. Apparently, the lion's performance in the arena had pleased Messalla well enough for him to bestow it with a name.
Atlas.
Slivers of raw red meat hung from the sleeping lion's mouth, and blood stained its chin. The beast-handlers at the Rusellae arena had wisely suggested they feed the lion prior to transport back to the ludus. Instead of a thrashing animal inflamed by the scent of spilt blood and human entrails, the lion's belly full of boar had made it docile and sleepy with the aid of more poppy milk.
Doctore Rutilius approached me with his whip in hand. "Put away your wine, Noctua Audax. Dominus will have words with you in the training yard."
Fairytales Slashed: Volume 8 Page 4
