by B. L. Morgan
Outside the tub she handed those to me and went to step away. As she did, I touched her arm. She stopped and for once met my eyes. “Please,” I said to her. “Let me know your name. What can be wrong with that?”
She smiled a sad closed mouth smile and shook her head no. She stepped away from me then glanced around for the guard. He was looking in another direction. Her eyes looked sad when she looked back into my eyes. She opened her mouth and pointed to it with her right hand.
I could see that she had no tongue. Someone had cut her tongue out.
* * *
We were marched to individual cells by four guards who had swords out but didn’t seem overly worried to be walking us around. In here, it would be crazy to attempt an escape. There were so many armed guards that you’d be cut down in just a few minutes. So our guards weren’t too concerned about us trying anything. Just before we were put in the cells the leader of the guards told us, “Get as much rest as you can. Tomorrow, we will decide who of you are worth training.”
Then I was shoved into a small dark chilly room and the thick wood and iron door was slammed shut behind me. It’s a bad feeling when you’re locked up. I’d been locked up before, but never like this.
After a minute my eyes adjusted to the dim light. There was one piece of furniture, a wooden cot for sleeping. A few blankets were thrown on it. Well, it was better than I was used to in that damn wagon.
A basket of fruits and vegetables was sitting on the bed. Guess they wanted us well fed for whatever was going to happen tomorrow.
In one corner was a bucket. It was empty. I was guessing that’s where I’d be doing my pissing and crapping.
In the other corner was a bucket full of water. I wanted to make sure I didn’t get these buckets mixed up in the dark and take a piss in my drinking water or go to wash my face with a handful of shit.
The walls, like practically everything else here, was made of a grey stone. There was an opening in the ceiling that had bars across it. People walked past overhead. They didn’t even glance down at me.
In the wall opposite the door and over the cot was a barred window. I could see out into the courtyard where fighters still worked out on the bags or sparred with each other with swords, spears, tridents, or fists.
The sun was setting and it was getting cooler. In another place and in another life I’d be planning to head out and run the streets all night. I know I wouldn’t be able to sleep without my trusted friend, Jack Daniels, with that clashing of sounds going on outside.
Here, I sure wasn’t going to be running any streets tonight. I took the basket off the cot and sat it on the floor and lay down.
At least I could stretch out. I got an apple from the basket and slowly ate it. This was a weird twisted world that I found myself in. But aren’t all worlds twisted. In some ways, I could understand this place better than my own world.
Here, the strong survive and dominate use the weak to get anything that they want. There’s one law to survive here. Be hard.
Just about everything here seems to be made of stone. People’s hearts must be made of stone too. If I’m going to have any chance of getting out of this alive, I’m going to have to be harder than the stone that surrounds me.
I ate the apple and watched the fighters in the courtyard. Some of them were damn good. I’d better keep it in my head to try things that they had never seen or I was in for a serious bruising and worse.
The breeze blew in. It actually seemed like fresh air. It surprised me how quickly I’d gotten used to the awful smell of this place.
A large crow landed on the head of one of the men on the crosses and started pecking at his right eye. The guy on the cross looked like he was past caring. They’d probably leave him and his buddy up there till they rotted off.
They were a damn good reminder of what a failed escape attempt can mean. Until I was certain we weren’t going to fail, I wasn’t going to attempt anything.
After a time, after I ate another piece of fruit, I did drift off to sleep.
CHAPTER 21
Testing Day
Morning came quickly, too quickly.
Light streaming in through the barred window followed quickly by yells and shouts from training fighters was what brought me around. You’d think that sometimes I’d wake up not knowing where I was and think I was back in East St. Louis, but that never happened. Not even once.
Things were so different here I always knew instantly where I was. The smells were stronger and harsher. The sounds were always either deafening loud or total silence. Even the sun seemed more raw and hard on the eyes.
I took a raw potato and carrot from the bucket and ate them, then took a piss and a shit in the correct bucket.
There wasn’t any toilet paper for me to use. Man, I tell you what, I was seriously beginning to miss toilet paper. Try not wiping your ass for months on end and you’ll know what I mean. You start getting this crusty feeling right in the crack of your ass from clumps of shit stuck to your ass hairs. And if I ever did get some Roman woman to do the wild thing with me and she goes to give me some head, she'd better be holding her breath. The smell coming from this unwiped ass has got to be deadly.
I threw some water on my face from the other bucket and cupped water in my hands and drank some too.
The door to my cell was thrown open and I was motioned out by a guard with a short sword. Twelve other slaves were already in the hallway. I saw Johnny and we passed a look. That was all we could do. We were too far apart to pass any words.
The guard herded us down the row of cells and through a door out into the courtyard.
In the dusty yard they lined us up against a blood stained wall. A new guard came to take a look at us. He paced back and forth looking us over.
This guy hadn’t said anything, but from the way the other guards reacted to him and the way he moved around us, I knew he was either the commander here or the head trainer. I later found out his name was Miletus.
He was around six feet tall and muscular and knew how to use his size to intimidate. He had a face that would have looked at home on a bulldog's body. His attitude matched his face.
After looking us over for a minute he stopped in front of the skinny teenaged boy who was now trembling.
"You!" He barked and pointed a finger at the kid. “Step forward!”
I thought the boy was going to faint, but he did manage a step, even with his knees shaking so badly he could barely stand.
Miletus turned his back on the youth and let his gaze wander over the courtyard in front of him. He sighted on a pair going at it hot and heavy with two of the blunted iron swords. Pointing at the shorter of the two, Miletus shouted, “You, Paulino! Over here! Bring the ferrum. You are to test the boy.”
Paulino strode to where we were, carrying the two heavy blunted swords. Up close I could see he had a wide scar on his left cheek that gave him a demented look, like he had a big constant smile on his face.
The practicing gladiators stopped and watched as Paulino stood in front of the kid. I’d seen this before in boxing gymnasiums. Every time a new guy comes in to spar, everybody always wanted a first look at somebody they might be fighting someday. Maybe they could spot a weakness that no one else would notice.
Miletus ordered the boy to step forward. Paulino tossed the blunted sword into the dirt in front of him.
The youth stared at the blade with a mixture of horror and fascination. He looked to be frozen with fear.
“Pick it up!” Miletus barked at him so loudly it made all of us jump.
Laughter and derisive comments floated over to us from the watching gladiators.
“Pick it up, now!” Miletus yelled at the boy.
The kid bent over and lifted the sword from the dirt, glancing fearfully toward all of us. If he was looking to us for help, there wasn’t a damn thing we could do for him.
Paulino smiled a sneer. He looked at Miletus then lunged at the boy in a feint. The boy stumbled backward, hi
s nervousness on display for everyone. Following the off balance kid, Paulino feinted a stab at his stomach. The boy dropped the heavy blade too far to bring it back up fast. Paulino slapped the flat of the blade against the kid's shoulder with a resounding thwack.
“There goes your arm,” Paulino shouted and laughed. “It’s lying in the dirt at your feet.” He stepped back like he was watching the boy do something. The kid hadn’t moved, other than to rub his right shoulder.
Tears were starting to form in the boy's eyes.
“Good," Paulino told the boy. “I see you’ve picked up your arm and put it back on.” He smiled. “We can begin again.”
Paulino came in at the kid. This time the boy whined loudly and just retreated. Tears burst forth from his eyes and ran down his face. He sank to his knees and cried, “Please don’t hurt me. Please, oh, please.” He let his sword drop to the ground.
The other gladiators were laughing loudly. Paulino stopped and looked at Miletus who was shaking his head in disgust.
Miletus shouted to a guard, “Get him out of my sight. Take him to the house of entertainments. He will be taught to pleasure the gladiators who prefer a boy's ass to women.”
The boy glanced back at Paulino as he was lead sobbing away. Paulino sneered at the kid and blew him a kiss.
“I’ll be seeing you later,” he shouted.
Miletus pointed at me. He barked, “You! Step forward.”
I came out to where the discarded sword lay in the dirt. I kneeled in front of it and took some dirt in my hands and worked it into my palms.
Why was I doing this?
I don’t have a fucking clue. I think I saw it in a movie once and it looked good. There wasn’t any director there to yell cut when the going gets tough. So I guessed I had better not hold up the show.
Picking up the sword, I faced Paulino. I smiled. “Please, don’t hurt me,” I told him.
“It will hurt,” he said. “When I bend you over and drive it deep.”
You’ll regret saying that, I thought.
Paulino came in at me. It was that same feint he’d tried on the boy.
I flicked his blade to the side and stood my ground. He almost fell into me. Stepping to my own right, I was inside his guard. I brought my left elbow around as a short left hook into his teeth with bone rattling force.
He staggered back a step. I knew he was seeing stars. Faking a kick to his nuts, I recharged the kick and sent it to his lowered right wrist instead.
Paulino’s sword flew from his grasp.
I wanted to get a little payback for the kid right now.
“Hey, fuck-head don’t hurt me,” I said and swung the blunt blade at Paulino’s head. It was really just a feint.
He ducked down and charged me. Not a good move. Guess he hadn’t paid attention to that last kick. Ready for his rush, I planted a kick right in the middle of his in charging face.
I’ll give Paulino some credit. He takes one hell-of-a shot.
He came straight up out of that crouch with blood pouring from his nose and busted lips.
I fired off a left hook that would have put the lights out in a moose, if it would have landed. I wish it would have landed, because as soon as my fist sailed past, within a half inch of Paulino’s face Melitus shouted, “Stop now!”
I did stop. I had to remember where I was. I couldn’t let myself go having too much fun.
The other gladiators cheered me and sent some derisive remarks Paulino’s way. It felt good being cheered too.
One of the other gladiators came over and took me to where some of those bags were hung. They had all been through this initiation ritual so many times they all knew the parts they were supposed to play. He started preliminary instructions on how to work out on the bags using the heavy blunt swords.
Every now and then a gladiator would wander by to congratulate me for kicking Paulino’s ass. I was definitely in, but I wasn’t letting down my guard no matter how these guys were acting. I had to always remember, I was a slave. Any one of these guys would be ready to cut my throat without a moment's hesitation.
Paulino went off to lick his wounds and get bandaged up. He gave me a long lingering look of death as he left the courtyard. I knew I’d better never turn my back on that one.
I watched the other guys get tested. As it turned out I hadn’t needed to beat Paulino to qualify for training. All I’d needed to do was not show fear and fight back.
Johnny passed his tryout with no problem at all. I didn’t expect him to have a problem.
Torstan didn’t have any problem either.
Most of the guys tested that morning passed their tests to become gladiators.
The few that didn’t were sent off to be trained to perform duties nobody would ever want to do.
Now, we were professional murderers. On a moment’s notice, we could be ordered to kill and we better do it too, otherwise we'd be the one dying.
Killing was nothing new to me.
Doing it for somebody else’s profit was.
CHAPTER 22
Oaths & Roman Hospitality
All of us new gladiators spent the next few hours training with our individual instructors. Somewhere around noon, and all time telling now has to be an estimate as my Timex is long gone, we were rounded up and lined up in front of the same wall in the courtyard where we’d started out. Eight of us were against that wall.
Melitus was back in front of us again doing his pacing back and forth.
He shouted for us to be silent. This guy had a thing about shouting. Melitus just had to do it, day and night.
“You are slaves,” he shouted. “There are no choices you can make in your own life. All of them are made for you. Except for one choice, the one you can now make. You can choose to be gladiators and fight and die like men or you can choose to be a cowardly piece of shit who will serve those who fight.”
“A gladiator is well fed. He sleeps in open barracks among his brothers and is given a woman or boy as he earns them. The other slaves get nothing and are treated like the worms that they are.”
“You will now take the oath of a gladiator. All who choose to be men step forward one pace and repeat what I say.”
All eight of us stepped forward. You’d have to be an idiot not to.
Melitus began, “I now swear to become a gladiator and obey all orders without question given to me.”
As a group, we repeated what he said.
“If I should disobey, I agree to suffer myself to be whipped with rods, burned with fire or killed with steel.”
Well, I said the words, but he could kiss my ass about me letting him do any of that shit to me.
* * *
We spent the rest of the afternoon with our instructors swinging those heavy swords. When evening came the instructors took us all to a large room where everyone was walking around freely and sitting where ever they felt like at several large tables.
Slaves were bringing plates of food out to the seated gladiators. Most of the ones serving the food were women. The few men among them were old and decrepit.
I found Johnny and we sat as far from everyone else as we could to talk.
“How’d you like that oath we took?” I asked him.
“Shit,” Johnny answered. “That mother fucker better think twice before he thinks anyone’s gonna be burning me. This is one nigger that will fuck him up. When I come down on him, he’ll think the entire Zulu nation is pulling a train on his ass.”
Food was brought to us.
I wasn’t exactly sure what the meat was. It could have been rabbit, chicken or squirrel. Hell, it might be big rats for all I knew, but it tasted damn good. We were also given a salad of some kind of barley stuff. It wasn’t as good as the meat, but I was hungry so I ate it all.
We whispered about the possibility of escape and quickly came to the agreement that escape right now was too dangerous and didn’t make sense anyway. We knew the girls would probably end up on the auction block in Rome, but on o
ur own we didn’t have a clue as to how to get there. It wasn’t like we could just pop into a Seven-Eleven and buy a road map either.
So, if we just rode this out and took our training we’d probably end up in Rome too. At least we’d be closer to the girls that way. We’d figure out what we’d do after we got to Rome. Besides, learning how to use these weapons the right way might come in handy.
* * *
We had to quit our talking when another gladiator came and sat beside us. He didn’t want to talk much and we were thankful for that. There’s not a lot we had in common with the majority of these guys. Conversation wasn’t going to be easy with very many of them.
Like what were we supposed to ask, “Hey there dude. How’s your spear thrust coming along?” As if I’d give a shit. Glad we didn’t have to go into it.
After dinner we were lead to the open barracks that Miletus talked about. Open barracks hell, looked like the county jail to me. It was a hallway with five cells on both sides.
Six of us were to a cell. Each of us had his own wooden cot with hay and blankets spread on top. Each of us had his own piss/shit bucket and there was again a basket of fruits and vegetables lain on each bed.
The accommodations wouldn’t be making me forget the Hilton, I tell you that.
These cells were open so we could see into the other cells through the bars. That’s probably what Miletus meant by open. They were really just big cages. I don’t think I could ever completely get used to living in a cage. If I ever get out of this shit, I know I’ll never look at the animals in the zoo the same way.
We were given the choice of which cells we went to before we were locked in. Me and Johnny stuck together.
Four other gladiators shared our cage. Two of them were older guys with worn out looking bodies and faces. The determination on their faces told me they’d probably make it through training. I wasn’t betting that they’d make it through too many bouts of hand to hand combat. The spirit might be willing, but if the flesh is weak, pity wouldn’t be found here.
