by J M Hemmings
The rustle of a zephyr coursing through the night forest with a pack of distant wolves on its heels had carried her scent, misting its disintegration over the young Viridovix as he had wandered, and wondered.
The tricklings scattered by the warm breeze had sent chills of delight and sylph-wisps of anticipation rippling along his skin; she had come, and she was waiting. There, in the midst of the moon-rain, in the eye of a swirling tornado of fireflies she had stood, waiting for him in an ancient oaken grove; sacred ground, and a holy place for his people and their ancestors. Her hair unbound, burnished liquid gold, as if she had been baptised upon a blacksmith’s forge, her skin milk-white and aglow with the Moon Goddess’s blessing, her lips a welcoming furrow in the mystery of the forest.
Eager young hands, trembling with the sweet violence of first love, feeling that crackling lightning blasting through the night air, ripping stars from the sky and weaving those celestial jewels into the fury of fumbling fingers and dancing tongues, carrying the heady saturation of scent and taste to the point of glorious oblivion, to—
‘Oy! Strap your armour back on, dog! You’re up to fight again! Hurry it up!’
Reality came rushing to the fore, crushing the memory and sending those dried up butterfly-wing recollections into crumbling ruin and annihilation.
‘I cannot think of these things,’ Viridovix muttered to himself as he began to strap on his armour, steeling his will against the deep sadness that threatened to crush every last atom of his spirit. ‘The past is gone. It is lost, forever. This is my fate. This … is my fate.’
When he strode back into the hall, he saw that a makeshift cage had been readied right in the centre of the hall. It was a very large structure, big enough to hold an elephant or two at the very least, and it was constructed of wooden cage panels that had been hastily roped together. The guards led Viridovix to the entrance of the cage and let him in.
Batiatus stood up to announce Viridovix’s arrival to the crowd, but then promptly stumbled and fell to the ground. When one of the guards hurried over and helped Batiatus up, Viridovix noticed that his master’s face was looking somewhat green. In fact, after having eaten the kitchen scraps he’d been given half an hour earlier, he was beginning to feel a tiny edge of queasiness himself.
‘Ahem … I’m, er … I’m feeling a little odd, forgive me,’ Batiatus stammered. He imbibed a hefty swig of wine, and then coughed and shook his head. ‘Let us continue!’ he bellowed, a little too forcefully.
Suddenly, one of the guests, a plump middle-aged woman with crimson-dyed hair, fell off her chair and started retching on the floor. At the opposite end of the hall another guest, a stick-thin geriatric Greek in a gold-trimmed toga, fell to his knees and vomited too. Someone shrieked out in shock, and gasps and whispers of horror scuttled like marauding locusts through the hall.
The poison Arishat had slipped into the food was beginning to take effect.
‘It appears, ahem, that some of you have perhaps … overindulged,’ Batiatus said slowly, trying to hold down the bitter vomit that was already beginning its inexorable creep up the back of his own throat. ‘I will, er, um, servants, could you escort these unfortunate guests to a place where they, er, where they may lie down? Please, hurry.’
Servants rushed to the aid of those who had started to feel the effects of the poison, and Batiatus paused to allow these guests to be escorted away. He cleared his throat and did his best to feign enthusiasm, despite the sickness bubbling in his own belly.
‘But for those who still have room to feast, it is now time for the evening’s main course, and of course the finale of the evening’s entertainment!’ he cried, forcing himself to feign excitement despite his growing discomfort. ‘We will feast on gorilla, stuffed with honey-marinated wild boar, and roasted partridge with garnished with dates and raisins!’
A cheer erupted from the guests, but their enthusiasm was decidedly half-hearted in comparison to how it had formerly been. Somewhere to the left of the hall yet another guest toppled off his chair and began vomiting on the floor. Slaves hurried over to help the man up and to clean up the mess, but just as they had escorted the sickly man out, a woman at another table collapsed. Murmurs of anger and discontentment started to flit about the hall like sparrows dashing between scattered crumbs.
‘What’s going on here?’ one man demanded angrily. ‘Everyone is becoming ill!’
‘It’s the food!’ shrieked a woman with a rapidly greening face. ‘We’ve been given poisoned food!’
An elderly man fell dropped to the floor, convulsing and choking on his own vomit.
Batiatus stood up on shaky legs, feeling a wave of gut pinching nausea swirling and sloshing in his belly. A look of panic and reddened embarrassment was stark upon his face.
‘I assure you, honoured guests, that there is nothing wrong with the food!’ he spluttered, even as his face started to turn green. ‘I have in my kitchen the freshest ingredients and the finest chef in all of—’
‘Then why are we all feeling so awful?!’ a corpulent man in a crimson tunic shouted, just before a gush of vomit erupted from between his lips.
‘Do something, you buffoon!’ Octavian hissed to Batiatus, his hands quivering, white-knuckled fists at his sides. ‘This is turning into a fiasco! I will not have my reputation tarnished on your account, Batiatus! I’ll crucify you and everyone in your cursed ludus! Now sort this out!’
Batiatus stumbled over to the nearest slave girl and gripped her arm with a trembling hand.
‘Bring in the gorillas, right now,’ he gasped.
‘But master, they’re not ready—’
Batiatus slapped her viciously across her face with one of his meaty hands.
‘I don’t care!’ he hissed through tightly gritted teeth. ‘Fucking do it or I’ll have you flayed alive!’
The girl rushed out of the room with tears rimming her eyes, and Batiatus staggered back to his table.
‘Guests!’ he shouted, swaying on unsteady legs, trying to get everyone’s attention through the building noise of complaints and discontented murmurings. ‘We are bringing in the gorillas right now! One alive, and one for you to feast on! Please, take your seats! You are about to see something that nobody in Rome has ever seen!’
This announcement seemed to quell some of the rebellion that was stirring, and most of the guests appeared to at least be temporarily placated.
Maharbaal strode over to Viridovix, who was waiting in his armour in the cage.
‘Give ‘em a good show now, Viridovix. Them folks are right fuckin’ unhappy ‘bout now, y’see? It’s up to you to save the boss’s reputation, got it?!’
Viridovix nodded.
‘Save the master’s reputation,’ he said uneasily. ‘Yes. Yes Doctore, I will do this.’
‘You’d fuckin’ better. Otherwise you’ll never see that wooden sword. Ever. Get my drift?’
‘I understand, Doctore.’
‘Good. Now you be an obedient dog and do as you’re told.’
‘Yes Doctore.’
‘Go to the other side o’ the cage. They’re bringing the monster in now, they are.’
Viridovix walked quietly over to the end of the cage as some slaves carried in a large cage that was draped with a huge cloth to conceal what was inside it. Immediately following it, however, was something that everyone could see quite clearly, and the moment their eyes took in the sight, gasps of surprise, awe, shock and horror began erupting all over the hall. On a massive platter, carried by four slaves, was the steaming, freshly roasted corpse of a monstrous-looking creature. Its skinned body, with the meat browned from the fire, was strikingly human, albeit with far different proportions. The chest and abdominal cavity had been hollowed out and the organs had been removed, and the resulting space had been stuffed with roasted pork and steamed vegetables, while the whole body was garnished liberally with a number of herbs. The arms and legs, however, were still intact, and the huge hands of the creature could easily ha
ve been those of a particularly large, hirsute man. Most striking was the beast’s head, which had also been left untouched. Covered in a thick mane of jet-black hair, an unsettlingly human face stared upwards with big brown eyes that were glazed over and frozen in death. A large mouth, furnished with massive canine teeth, was stuffed with roasted fruit.
‘Behold! The wondrous gorilla!’ Batiatus roared, forcing back the vomit that was tickling noxiously at his tonsils. ‘Its flesh has been cooked to a state of perfect succulence by my master chef, and flavoured to an exquisite intensity with a number of spices from the east.’
Despite the queasiness sloshing about in his belly, Batiatus felt a rush of courage and confidence come flooding back through his veins. He glanced across at Octavian, hoping to discern a similar expression upon his face, but Octavian merely scowled at him, his eyes aflame with a dangerous anger. Batiatus swallowed, choking down the rage that was now rising in retaliation to Octavian’s wrath.
‘Ungrateful bastard’ he muttered under his breath. ‘You need me and my gladiators more than anything. I’m not your fucking servant – we’re partners, you arrogant cunt!’ He cleared his throat as the slaves set the enormous platter with its grotesque charge down on an empty table and watched as the other slaves placed the cloth-covered cage next to the entrance of the fighting cage, inside of which Viridovix was waiting.
A small slave boy, no older than eight, was positioned on top of the cloth-covered cage. He clambered over to the end nearest the entrance of the fighting cage and pulled on a rope to raise the door of the covered cage beneath him.
As the door began to open, the entire hall fell into an anxious, expectant hush, and seconds seemed to stretch out like strands of gum pulled between parting fingers. Eventually the cage door was fully open … but nothing emerged.
The silence, however, was broken abruptly by yet another guest doubling over and retching loudly.
‘There’s nothing in there!’ a man near the back of the hall yelled. ‘It’s all been a lie, a ridiculous charade!’
That was it; Batiatus snapped. With a wordless, bestial snarl and a storm of wrath pulsating its purple clouds across his face, he sprang up from his table and snatched a spear from the hands of the nearest guard. He took a few hobbling steps on his gammy leg, and then with a grunt of fury he flung the spear at the cloth-covered cage.
The spear arced through the air with a whistling whizz, and when it struck the cloth its point drove through the gaps between the bars and thudded into something soft behind it, prompting a thunderous and terrifying roar, and with that a gargantuan beast burst in a wild charge out of the dark space into the fighting ring, the broken spear embedded in its left shoulder.
Shouts of fright, wonder, surprise and awe resounded through the hall immediately. Inside the fighting cage Viridovix jumped back, circling the space with his back to the bars, keeping his sword aimed at the huge, black-furred beast that was snarling and rumbling as it bounded along the perimeter of the cage on all fours.
The gorilla – a large male – stopped after a few moments of frenetic panic, and as he panted and gasped in terror he reached up with his long right arm and plucked the broken spear out of his shoulder. He then flung the weapon down in anger, prompting another chorus of gasps and cries from the gathered diners, many of whom scrambled up from their tables and hurried over to the fighting cage to get a better look at the gorilla.
‘Kill it!’ someone screamed from the back. ‘Kill it, Viridovix!’
This suggestion was met with a resounding chorus of approval from the gathered diners.
‘Yes! Kill the monster! Kill it!’
Viridovix swallowed a dry mouthful of an emotion that he had not experienced for quite some time: fear. This was no human opponent that he could study, whose moves with sword, axe or spear he could deconstruct, counter and defeat. No, this was a beast unlike anything he had ever laid eyes on, and he had no idea how it would act or react, what strengths or weaknesses it possessed, or even how much – or little – damage his sword and steel bear-claws could do to it.
‘Come on Viridovix! Kill the monster!’ Octavian shouted. ‘Do your master proud and slaughter this horrid thing!’
Viridovix advanced with caution on the gorilla, keeping his sword extended out in front of him.
‘Stab it! Cut it!’ a shrill voice screeched from somewhere to his right.
‘Come on! Lop its horrible head off!’ someone screamed hoarsely from his left.
The creature appeared to have no interest in fighting him, however; while he was aware of the gladiator’s presence, his eyes were flickering from left to right and right to left, desperately seeking a way out of this terrifying prison. His hairless chest, which, like the rest of his body, was strangely human in structure, was heaving up and down as he gulped in great, fear-laden lungfuls of air.
‘Get it! Cut the monster!’
‘What are you waiting for, gladiator?! Attack it!’
‘Kill it!’
The shrill, vicious voices bounced about like angry gnats inside Viridovix’s head, echoing from all around the hall, assailing his mind with nips and stings.
Come on! Receiving that wooden sword depends on this. You must do this. You are so close, so very close.
Viridovix grunted and lunged forward with a speedy slash, aimed at the gorilla’s chest. The blade raked his skin and cut through his flesh as it whipped through the air, and the beast howled out pitifully and batted Viridovix’s sword away with one of his huge, shaggy arms. Quick as a flash Viridovix turned the blade on the upswing and hacked at the creature’s forearm. The steel sheared through the matted fur and bit deeply into the gorilla’s arm, and when Viridovix yanked the blade back an arc of blood sprayed across the floor. The gorilla did not counter-attack; instead, he simply screamed; a chilling sound that was all too human in the rawness of its expression of pain and fear. He then fled, scrambling against the bars and trying to scale them in a panicked flight, prompting cheers, jeers and hoots of mocking laughter from the throng of diners now crowded around the makeshift ring.
‘Look how scared the ugly monster is!’ howled one obese patron as he sucked down a goblet of wine as if it were but water. ‘How utterly pathetic!’
Inside the cage the gorilla was still desperately seeking a way out, clambering up the bars and jumping around and dashing across the floor in all directions. Viridovix kept his sword aimed at the beast, but saw that his adversary had no interest in fighting whatsoever; he just wanted freedom from this horrifying hell into which he had been so unwillingly thrust.
There is no honour in this. None whatsoever.
‘Give it another cut, gladiator! Show that vile beast who’s boss!’
‘Slaughter it!’
Viridovix took a few half-hearted steps toward the gorilla, but found himself somehow unable to attack the cowering, trembling creature.
A night forest, alive with the comet trails of fireflies, the perfume of flowers in full bloom heavy in the liquid air, the soft dampness of moss and leaves beneath bare feet, her golden hair, drizzled with gently raining starlight—
‘Cut it! Kill it! Kill it now! Kill! Kill!’
Ocean-green eyes, dazzling against the star-perforated curtain of night, hair shiny as burnished bronze, yet soft as loom-stretched silk in his trembling hands. And then, alabaster skin that was so hot against his eager lips, tantalising his exploring tongue with delectable traces of warm saltiness—
‘Destroy it, slave! What are you waiting for?!’
‘Carve it up! We want its head!’
The gorilla dashed across the cage, right in front of Viridovix, who was now so lost in the swirling tempest of memories that he didn’t even react.
‘Viridovix!’ Batiatus snarled, the abrasiveness of naked anger colouring his tone, ‘What are you doing?! Put an end to the monster’s life!’
‘That’s right!’ a woman shrieked to his left. ‘Kill it, you idiot! Kill it!’
It was then
that the gorilla caught sight of the mutilated, roasted corpse of the other gorilla, which was a female. The dead one’s head had flopped to the side, and her death-frozen face was staring straight at her live companion. The panicking gorilla stopped dead in his tracks, gripped the bars and stared in shocked silence for a while at the desecrated corpse of his companion. The beast’s grip slackened on the bars, and, ignoring all of the howls, hoots, jeers and cries of aggression resounding all around from the bloodthirsty humans, he simply slumped into a heap on the floor, covered his face with his huge hands, and began to moan pitifully, with a sound that could only be construed as being a tone of pure, unadulterated grief and heart-rending sorrow.
This sight unleashed a lightning bolt of an epiphany that smashed with sudden, soul-shaking force into Viridovix’s mind, and boosted an intense feeling of pathos through his entire being. As he stood frozen in silence, the gorilla parted his hands from his face and stared up at him, locking his sorrow-filled brown eyes into the gladiator’s … and that was it. Viridovix, Beast of the North, mighty champion of the arena, had finally been defeated.
I cannot do this. I cannot. This is the foulest thing of all the foul things I’ve been made to do. The General, he and Spartacus were right – by the gods, I was right, right when I first came here. I am nothing but a slave, nothing but a dog to them. I am a sword-wielding puppet, whose movements are dictated by the masters’ fingers. And when I win that wooden sword, what will it even mean? My freedom was lost the day I accepted this lot, the day I began to revel in all of this. I’ve been Batiatus’s loyal mutt for too long now … for far too long. And he wouldn’t be giving me that sword unless he intended to further use me as his dog in some way. Well, for whatever nefarious purposes he has in mind for me, I’m done. I’m done with all of this. Let them crucify me. I’m done with this life, this broken world. Let death come, let her carry me to the quiet forest beyond the last great sleep. I am ready, at long last. I am finally ready.