The Gladiator

by Marianne LaCroix

  "He will pay for his insolence with his life.” Caesar noticed the slight.

  Then Caesar grabbed a white cloth presented to him by a nearby servant. He lifted the cloth into the air and, below, the grooms assisting with the horses ran to safety.

  With a drop of the cloth, the chariots burst forward in a cloud of dust.

  * * * *

  The line of twelve chariots lurched forward in a thunderous rush. Marcus's team ran at top speed along with the others, but he pulled back on the reins, trying to slow their pace so they might finish the seven laps around the arena. Speed was not the priority on the first lap, it was steady pacing that kept them from tiring too quickly.

  The pack crowded on the inside, the preferred position, but Marcus stayed to the outside so not to be cramped on the inside, dangerously too close to the spina. On the outside there was much more room to maneuver during turns. It was during those times when many accidents happened. Chariots would collide and overturn. Drivers were thrown and trampled by the other chariots.

  At the first turn, Marcus took it wide and safe—as safe as the race would allow. It was then he spotted Brutus. He whipped his team of horses for more speed. Marcus snapped his reins, and the horses picked up speed. For a brief second, Brutus drove along side, and Marcus realized Brutus was on Caesar's mission. He pulled back on the reins slowing his team once again.

  Brutus nudged ahead of Marcus, and began to take the next turn. They both took the turn without difficulty, but the air was thick with sand and grit, stinging his eyes. He wiped his face with his forearm, but gained little relief.

  The chariots raced past Caesar to the roaring cheering from the mob. Marcus could not spare a glance upward to Julia. To divert his attention for even a split second could spell his defeat.

  The thunderous pounding of hooves filled the air along with the deafening crowd's screams, and the sand and grit. As Marcus began to take the next turn, the first accident happened. Two chariots collided too close to the spina and each lost a wheel. The chariot broke away from the horses and the driver flew through the air to land behind the team. Each were dragged as they'd wrapped their reins about their arms. Marcus swerved to avoid the broken chariots, but another was not so careful. A team collided with the wreckage, and the third chariot was out of the running.

  Marcus cleared the area without incident, but he wasn't out of danger yet. If the clean up crew did not clear way the damaged chariots, he might have to maneuver around them again.

  By the fifth lap around the Circus, there were only five chariots left in the race, including Marcus and Brutus.

  Now was the time for speed. Marcus called to his team and flicked the reins across their backs. Brutus came up along side and the two chariots drove about the next turn closely. Too close for Marcus. Brutus whipped at his horses and Marcus snapped his reins again, calling out their names.

  Just then Brutus pushed to the side, locking wheels with Marcus's chariot. Wood scraped and squealed under the pressure. One wrong move and one of the wheels would come off. Yet still, Brutus pushed the chariot closer to the inside of the track, dangerously close to the spina.

  The crowd roared in Marcus's ears along with the booming sound of horses running at top speed. Grit filled his mouth and burned his eyes. He knew the moment had come.

  Brutus laughed and jerked his chariot away just before the next turn. The wheel held. He wasn't out of danger yet. Brutus would try to bring him down again.

  Another chariot crashed causing a second to also crash. Marcus swerved, narrowly missing the wreckage and becoming the third victim. He called to his team, urging them onward, coaxing more speed. Brutus was just ahead. It was down to three chariots now, and Brutus was in the lead.

  Marcus sped up behind Brutus and began to pass on the inside near the spina. It was risky, but the best way to cut in front of the other team. At the turn, he made his move. As Marcus pulled past Brutus's team, the crowd became deafening in their cheers.

  The final lap. It came down to this.

  Adrenaline pumped within his body as he saw the end draw near. He would win! He would beat Caesar in his plot to separate him and Julia.

  But the race wasn't over yet. Brutus was on his tail and gaining ground. Marcus refused to let the man and his team of blacks along side. He swerved and blocked Brutus from passing. It was a battle of skill and speed.

  He rounded the turn and yelled out to his team. One last turn and he would win. The horses seemed to sense the urgency and bolted ahead. The wind flew through their manes as they raced to the last turn.

  Brutus tried to pass once again, but Marcus swayed his team from letting him pass.

  The final turn! Marcus made the turn with ease and he praised his horses for their skill. The chariot roared with speed down the final stretch with Brutus close behind.

  Marcus led his chariot and team of horses past the imperial enclosure—winning the great race before Caesar, before his beloved Julia and all of Rome. Joy washed over him at the hopes of holding Julia again.

  But then, the wheel broke and the chariot fell to one side, throwing Marcus into the air as the other wheel followed suit, unable to withstand the pressure. The wood broke away and Marcus couldn't stop the team as he was dragged through the sand and dirt behind. His body was tossed about and the sand tore into his flesh, ripping away skin. His arms felt pulled to the brink and he felt his shoulders snap.

  This was the end.

  Caesar had won.

  * * * *

  Julia's heart was in her throat as she jumped from her seat to watch Marcus's chariot wheel break off and his entire chariot crumble away, throwing Marcus out onto the field. Still holding onto his reins, he was dragged behind his horses still at a full run, his body tossed about like nothing more than a rag doll.

  She screamed his name as she gripped the railing before her.

  Then finally, riders raced out onto the track and caught the loose team of horses. Marcus let go as the horses slowed, but then Brutus was close behind with his team. Julia stood in horror as the man purposely led his team over Marcus's battered body. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking the scene of her love beaten into the sand by four sets of pounding hooves.

  The crowd had gone strangely silent, a sound unlike that from only moments ago. Julia opened her eyes to peer upon Marcus. Never in her life had she even witnessed such carnage. Her stomach roiled and she bent over to her side and vomited. Her legs gave out, and she fell to the floor of the imperial enclosure. She retched again and began to cry uncontrollably. What cruel fates would bring her back in time to witness the death of her beloved?

  "Unlock Lady Julia and take her to her lover so they may say their goodbyes,” Ordered a solemn Julius. “If he is still alive."

  Moments later, Julia was escorted into the bowels of the arena where makeshift surgery was performed. When she entered the room, she saw the hero worship of the other Gladiators who carried Marcus to a pallet. A surgeon awaited and began to access his patient.

  "Julia,” Marcus croaked.

  She held down the bile threatening to come up, and went to his side. This was not how she wanted too remember him—a broken, bloodied body. “I am here,” she said weakly.

  "I won the race.” His voice was harshly cracked.

  "You did win."

  "And you are mine."

  She forced a smile as she touched his face. One eye was swollen shut and blood oozed from numerous cuts all over his face. “I was always yours."

  He took a deep breath.

  "There is nothing we can do,” whispered the surgeon behind her. “He is dying."

  Marcus took a ragged deep breath, and tears burned her eyes as he struggled to hold a moment longer of life.

  "I will love you forever, Marcus."

  "Julia ... Julia,” he started then began to cough in a fit, blood spattering from his mouth.

  "Marcus, please...” she begged as her tears fell unchecked.

  "I will ... be with you ...
again, my love. By the gods ... I will."

  Then with one last labored breath, his body relaxed and stilled.

  She hugged him and sobbed. “Marcus ... don't leave me."

  He was gone.

  * * * *

  She was still in the past. Why had she not returned to her time when Marcus died?

  Julia lay in her bedchamber under close guard. Caesar had ordered her under a suicide watch, threatening that if she decided to be noble, those closest to her would die, starting with Senator Gaius.

  At the moment, she couldn't think beyond the image of Marcus battered and broken. He had died as he predicted, and she felt empty without him near. She needed to hear his voice, feel his hand upon her body, but he was gone. And now she was alone with her grief, stuck in a time strange to her regardless of her prior knowledge. Living here was much different than reading about it in history books.

  History. Had her appearance in the past altered the history of Marcus and his death? What about Julius Caesar's assassination? Would he die at the hands of the Senators? Yes, he would die. She had no doubt. The assassination would happen. Part of Julia wished to be there with dagger in hand to wield out revenge. Her sorrow was laced with rage and anger towards her ‘uncle'. How could he view life so cheaply? How could he be so cruel to his own niece?

  Julia lifted her head and peered out into the darkness. Night had fallen hours ago, yet she had little concept of how much time had passed since. In a few hours, Julius would be dead. What would happen to her once the deed was done?

  Death. So much death. It surrounded her, seeped into her pores and choked her. Her love, Marcus was dead, and Julius was about to die. What was left for her in this time of senseless bloodshed?

  "Marcus,” she whispered into the night as she reached out to his pillow. “Marcus, I need you with me. I don't want to live here without you. There is no place for me here."

  On the breeze, his last words echoed softly in her ears. “I will be with you again, my love."

  Her heart ached for his presence, and she began to cry again.

  The hours passed and Julia drifted in and out of sleep, waking up only to cry for Marcus. She wished to return home to her time, an escape from the pain. But would it truly be an escape?

  "Milady,” Aelia said strongly as she shook Julia awake. “Milady, get out of bed and dressed. Chaos has erupted in the streets and Senator Gaius is here. He is going to take us out of Rome."

  Julia turned over and blinked her tear blurred eyes to her servant. “Senator Gaius is here?"

  "Milady, your uncle ... he's been murdered."

  Julia sat up in bed and her heart leapt in her chest. “Julius is dead?” She wasn't sure why it seemed a surprise. She'd known this would happen."

  "Yes, and now all of Rome is in shock. Senator Gaius wished to leave with all haste."

  Nodding absently, Julia jumped out of bed and grabbed her cloak and secured it about her neck. “Gather provisions, but pack light. We must leave immediately."

  Slipping on her sandals, she rushed out to meet with a nervous Senator Gaius.

  "We must go at once,” he said as he clasped her shoulders. His eyes were wild with fear.

  "Were you apart of it?” she asked.

  He bowed his head in silent shame.

  "Where shall we go to escape the coming revenge?” She squeezed one of his hands.

  "I have a cart awaiting to take us outside the walls of Rome. I have arranged for horses to meet us and take our party to the coast where a ship is awaiting to take us to Tangier and then we will travel to Marrakech."

  Aelia ran into the room with a bundle in her hands. “I have water, bread, and cheese for us."

  "Good. Now let us go.” Gaius led them outside to his cart. Once in the cart, he handed the women old blankets. “The poorer we look, the less suspicion we will cause. And if we are stopped, Julia you are my daughter. You are traveling to the south with your maidservant to your intended."

  She nodded. He clicked the reins and the cart lurched forward.

  Traveling through the streets was easier than Julia had expected. Soldiers were dispersed for crowd control against looters, thus leaving travelers in a small cart to move on.

  "Just ahead is the main gate. Once we are through, we should be alright,” Gaius said to Julia in a low voice.

  Julia's stomach roiled with fear as the cart pulled slowly to the checkpoint. Roman guards were searching carts and other travelers in and out of the city.

  "Hold!” one called to them and Gaius pulled back on the reins. “What is the purpose of your trip?"

  Gaius smiled and explained, “I take my daughter to her betrothed in the south."

  "And the other girl?"

  "Her maid."

  The soldier nodded but his eyes never left Julia. She met his gaze and her eyes burned from her night's cry.

  "She doesn't seem happy about her marriage,” the guard commented to Gaius.

  "You know young women. They get into their heads certain ideas of marriage. Hers is an arranged marriage and she has never met her intended husband. She will do her duty as she is told."

  The soldier stood staring at her. “It's a shame such a beauty is to marry another. I would give you a nice bride's price for such a lovely woman."

  "Alas, moneys have been exchanged and papers drawn to settlement. I am bound to deliver her today.” Julia could almost hear Gaius’ nervousness in his voice. He hadn't expected such a delay at the gates.

  But the man backed away from the cart and waved them through. “Move on."

  Safely away from the gates, Gaius drove the cart slowly so not to raise any suspicions of his underlying anxiousness.

  "For a moment, I thought he was going to keep us there,” Aelia said, breaking the silence.

  "I feared he would hear my heart beating. It was so loud, I thought it would leap out of my chest,” Gaius commented.

  Julia shared in Gaius’ fears, but she wasn't so sure their trouble was over.

  "In a few moments,” Gaius started, “we should come upon our horses to take us to the coast."

  They took a turn off the main road into an orchard of olives. Twisting and turning through the thick trees, the cart rolled on. Then they came upon a group of men with horses hitched to a wagon and several saddled, ready to go.

  "Good work, Atroncious,” Gaius said as he pulled back on the reins. “Looks like everything is ready."

  A young man greeted Gaius, one she recognized from the camp when they had trained the horses. “I have not seen any soldiers come through here, milord."

  "Good. Let us go meet our ship."

  Just then thunder rolled over the grove. The sound was unmistakable. Chariots in pursuit.

  The group quickly mounted their horses as Julia and Aelia got into the wagon. They started off in a rush, hoping to avoid the soldiers.

  The group traveled through the grove, and as the soldiers neared, they stopped and awaited the chariots to pass. The soldiers charged by their hiding pace among the trees, and Julia let out a breath she hadn't realized she held. How much longer must they hide? Would they ever be safe?

  They approached the edge of the olive grove and waited.

  "Perhaps we should wait for darkness to continue on to the coast?” Julia suggested.

  "The captain of the ship taking us to Tangiers sails with the evening tide. We have no choice but to ride on.” Gaius sounded tired, but hopeful.

  Julia was not comforted by the risk of exposing themselves.

  However, the small party of travelers made it to the small coastal village and there awaited their ship.

  Just as they approached the ship, Roman soldiers stopped them.

  "Halt!” One called. They all froze as the soldiers surrounded hem. “Get off your horses. And those in the wagon, come out."

  Julia nodded to Aelia. “Come."

  They climbed out and faced a group of soldiers holding the horses, questioning Gaius. “I am a simple merchant on my way hom
e to Tangiers. I have a wife there waiting for me,” he explained his lie.

  "And the women?"

  "My daughter and her handmaid."

  One soldier leaned in to the other and whispered.

  "Lady Julia?” the leader asked incredulously looking at her. Are you sure?"

  "Yes, sir. I know her anywhere. She was with Caesar several weeks ago at the games when that Gladiator saluted her."

  The soldier stepped to her and pulled back her hood that partially hid her face. “By the gods, it is Lady Julia."

  "And this is Senator Gaius,” the second soldier offered.

  The leader stared at Julia and she shivered under his gaze. “Arrest them all,” he said flatly.

  "On what charge?” she asked.

  "Conspiracy of murder. You know, no doubt, your uncle has been assassinated.” He stood over her, watching her reaction.

  She simply nodded.

  "I've heard you'd taken a slave as your lover. Perhaps it is time you had a real man between your legs.” The soldier said in a low voice to her.

  Unable to withstand a minute longer of this crude man's comments, Julia lunged for his dagger strapped to his thigh. In a flash she had it in her hand and aimed at his throat.

  However her advantage was quickly lost. She struggled with the soldier for the knife, and he laughed at her attempt to turn the knife on him once again. He pointed the knife at her chest in the struggle, and in a flash of an instant, she released her hold, allowing the point to sink into her chest.

  With a sharp pain within her chest with several gasps of air, darkness engulfed her senses, and she relaxed her body into the cold arms of death.

  * * * *

  She was so uncomfortable. Her legs were folded beneath her and the cold, hard floor she laid on chilled her skin straight through her clothes. Julia forced her eyes open only to peer at the wheels of her nearby desk chair.

  She stirred and took a deep breath. Sitting up, she moaned when her stiff joints pained her with the slightest movement. She glanced about her, trying to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. She was back in her office—in the present.

  There on the blackboard was the translated spell as though she'd left it only moments ago.