Sextus' Sacrifice: Arena Series I

by Chris Vaughn

  He whacked and wailed as fast as he could to hit and hurt the veteran gladiator.

  "He's trying to attack like a school girl."

  Someone leaned in to Sextus' friends, "I could take him. I'm thirty pounds overweight and got a bad back, but I'd hurt that kid."

  It was like watching the veteran gladiator die the death of a thousand cuts. Even with his eyes blinded he was still offering a decent defense but one too many cuts and the loss of blood began to take its toll. The young fighter, panting as if he was about to have an asthma attack, ran around the veteran twice outside of slashing ranging. The motion, and blindness that the veteran was experiencing put him in an even more unsettled state, beginning to get dizzy.

  "He can't stand much longer."

  "Wish he could wipe his eyes clean. I'd wager a month's wages he could still even now whip the ass of that kid if he could see clear."

  He staggered, and the young scrapper came from behind the veteran, stabbing the gladius sword into the veteran's lower back. A slow, painful death.

  "Damn!"

  "Sextus, I never saw that coming."

  "Me either. Like seeing a god of the heavens, being neutered in the most violent way."

  The young gladiator continued his attacks in his most violent fashion, but to those watching it was the weakest manner of ways. Now stabbing and hacking without aim. Complete fear evident from him for all the world to see.

  Sextus, who a moment before felt sadness for the young scrapper, now felt anger. Anger from himself and the crowd. There was no cheering, nor joy. He hated to see a valiant man, die a death at the hands of an evident coward. From the crowd’s mood, the feeling was unanimous. Sextus wondered how someone could be granted liberty by the desire of the crowd who had acted so weak.

  The crowd's mood shifted, as if plates of the earth were torn apart. No reward should be given, no ransom paid for such a deed.

  "Despicable. I wanted the veteran to win, but I wouldn't have wanted him to slaughter the kid. Not this." The older guy in front of Sextus shook his head back and forth.

  "Me too," Sextus said, in shock. No one would have guessed the outcome of this fight.

  The valiant Gladiator veteran fell to his face in the sand. Blood flowed from his back, neck, and sides, and seeped out of many other small slashes. The victor placed a foot on the back of the Gladiator in a show of triumph. He raised his hands and the gladius sword in a show of triumph. The symbol of gladiator’s from the centuries pas--a sign of victory-- but today it represented the weapon of a weak coward.

  "Look, his sword still trembles." a voice said near Sextus.

  "His sword trembles like his heart, Sextus."

  "I don't think so, look at his legs. They shake too."

  Everyone around Sextus was whispering, back and forth to each other.

  The coward looked for a rejoicing crowd. Hearing none, he screamed in a high voice, again and again. Calling out for the crowd to rejoice. The crowd never made a noise--even the whispers faded away. Realizing he celebrated his victory alone, he lowered his hand and stood waiting, not knowing what to do. The crowd's sympathy faded away, too.

  The crowd had never yelled this before. Sextus wished he'd had the heart to yell out what every free man, wanted to say. No victory for the victor, but give death to the victor.

  From high up in the Digitus Coliseum, a lone voice yelled, "NO VICTORY TO THE VICTOR!"

  From one section to another, voices grew louder. Astonishing himself, Sextus too was on his feet, standing on his seat, yelling, "NO VICTORY FOR THE VICTOR."

  The young man was caught off guard; he'd thought the only thing the crowd wanted was a victor. The crowd's whims can never be predicted, or even guessed. He slashed his arms around, as if he were trying to knock the words and emotions out of the air of the arena.

  His face turned from an expression of apparent relief, to the face of remorseful fear. His cowardice had destroyed his hopes. He raised his sword to signify he would fall on it. Liberty would not be granted to one so cowardly, and even if it had, peace would never be known to that individual. Citizens of freedom would shun the young man, wearing the stigma of cowardice. A person of contempt that no matter how free, would be bound by the confines of public opinion and acceptance.

  Attempting a mea culpa of accepting death, he knew he had not the strength to run himself through the heart, nor did he want to die a slow death. The crowd grew silent as he dug a place beside the dead gladiator. He planted the sword's hilt in the ground, using the dead man's body as bracing to hold the sword.

  "He must be planning to throw himself on the sword."

  "Hope it's a slow death," someone said.

  He stood and took several breaths, but his cowardice knew no limits, and in falling, he slid so that the sword never touched him.

  Sextus watched as he did not know how this would play out. The young gladiator tried to regain himself. He was attempting to try again, when an arrow flew out from somewhere and pierced the young man's neck.

  "Who shot that?"

  "Someone high?" They all looked around, then heard.

  "An archer on the arena floor, look." They all looked in unison like at a game of ball.

  "No, it was over there."

  "Where?" No one knew.

  The blood flowed out of both the front and back of his neck; those closest to the floor could hear the gurgling sounds of breathing. He clutched his neck with both hands, as if his attempts to stop the bleeding in the front would allow him to live. Maybe it would have had it not been for the countless other arrows fired by archers unseen by the crowd. Slumping to his knees, his butt rested on the backs of his heels. His life leaving as the weight of the arrows in his chest caused him to finally fall upon the sword. Sextus and his friends watched the sword pierce the young man, although the momentum wasn't enough to cause it to run him through.

  With a chorus of jubilation, the crowd yelled.

  Sextus wasn't sure where the arrows came from. From the Magistrate's box, or from some hidden part of the arena, he wasn't sure. "Were those shot from the crowd?" he asked out loud.

  "Who cares. As long as he dies!"

  "Some may have come from someone armed in the crowd, from the angle, but what does it matter?" another one said.

  The arrows were the desire of the crowd.

  Sextus thought about that day over and over. He would not die at the hands of a coward. With all that was in him, he would do everything he could to out-think and outwit his opponent and win his life. He would not take the actions of a coward and cause his own death by his own hands.

  He decided to choose the liberty of a free man who faced death with honor.

  Chapter V

  Never had he known that fighters wore specialized clothing. He never would have guessed. Sextus was asleep. The nurses undressed and then dressed him in the suit of armor that he would wear for the games. The two nurses placed the armor on him, making sure it were secure in every possible nook and crevice. The nurses smiled and grinned, enjoying working on Sextus and admiring his physique. Even if he'd been awake, he wouldn't see their covered smiles and smirks. It made their work easier.

  "Make sure the connections are correct."

  "Yes, Magistrate."

  "Is the breast plate attached? We had a hard time having this one made in such a short time." The magistrate began examining the equipment.

  "It's well done, sir. It fits perfectly, and in the places required. Everything is specific just for him, just for today."

  Every gladiator when awake would ask the same questions, "How did their armor fit so well?". They assumed there was an armory where clothing and armor hung in abundance, and they would go and grab what suited them. Instead the equipment every gladiator wore was custom fitted for every fighter.

  Shoes and belts dressed on him. On his forearms protective wraps were strapped into place. Protective armlets with straps attached to his forearms. All the outward clothing of a gladiator, fitted and making
him at least look the part of a gladiator.

  A precision-forged helmet created for him had a strange two piece fit. Every fighter had the look of an old warrior when wearing it. In person, the look always gave the fighters a more aggressive look.

  "Is he fully suited?"

  "Yes, I believe so. Let us check again."

  The two nurses went over their checklists. Even if they were thorough, the Magistrate would do it once again , before placing Sextus in the arena.

  "Attendants, prepare Gladiator Sextus to awaken."

  "Yes, sir."

  Claudia began to administer the stimulant that would bring Sextus out of the light sleep. They found that the light sleep helped the gladiators be calm before their final preparations. The sleep allowed the attendants to do their work without interruptions and without causing pain to the gladiators.

  The nurses began their banal talk, as had become the custom.

  "He is a handsome man."

  "Yes, he is. I wish he had asked for a woman last night, and that I could have been the one."

  "Claudia, you are such a slut. You should be a prostitute instead of an Arena Attendant."

  "Domitia, you have never had the passion of a gladiator who knows he may die. I've bribed my way in several times. I've heard the girls speak of their nights and their wish to serve the gladiators. For them it's their job, but for me a vacation," she said with a wink.

  "Claudia, what about your husband?"

  "I just tell him I have to work late and prepare for the games. He never knows. And he never satisfies like a man the night before death. Bad thing is, you never know who they will give you to, but for him I'd have gladly gone."

  Claudia stroked his forehead, what little there was that could be seen under the helmet.

  "Claudia, leave the man alone. He's ready, and next time I won't dress him. You can have him all to yourself."

  "Maybe, Gladiator, you will live, and I will have another chance to serve you. We salute you," Claudia spoke in his ear.

  "You would do more than salute, Claudia."

  "Yes I would; for this opportunity I will pay whatever bribe I need to."

  Sextus began to wake up. Domitia stayed with him to make sure he wasn't startled, while Claudia began preparing for his move to the staging room.

  "Gladiator Sextus... Gladiator, are you awake?"

  "I must have fallen asleep."

  "Yes, you did, and we have already dressed you."

  "What?" Looking down, he couldn't quite tell if he was wearing anything except his boots, belt and clothing because the breast plate looked like his skin.

  "How does this all fit so perfectly?"

  Claudia and Domitia looked at each other, smiling behind their masks.

  "Everything is handmade for you, Gladiator. The color of the breast place matches your perfectly, doesn't it? Is anything too tight?"

  "I don't think so, but not sure. When can you adjust the chair so I can move around?"

  "It will be a moment. Just lay back and rest. We here who serve you, salute you."

  Waking up, Sextus found he was lying in a reclining cot of some type. His mind groggy, he decides to get his thoughts together. Laying still he asks, "What was the nap for?" The girls just kept to their work ignoring him.

  Lifting his head, he noticed he was wearing shoes, belts, arm bands, and a breast plate. The breast place completely matched his skin, and gave him a perfect six pack. So that's how the gladiators looked so trim.

  "I'm not in bad shape but this makes me look great. Too bad I can't wear this all the time."

  While he was wide awake, Sextus could not stand. Strands of cables or connectors had him weighted down. Not exactly strapped to the chair but restrained none the less.

  "Hey, what's up? I need to stand."

  "Claudia. Domitia. Get on either side of Gladiator Sextus."

  Both women answered quickly, "Yes, Magistrate."

  "Gladiator Sextus, welcome to the staging room before entry to the Arena. Claudia and Domitia will be helping you and will eventually take you to the Arena."

  "When will these cords be cut off? I can't fight--or even defend myself--with these attached to me."

  Claudia said reassuringly, “Rest assured Sextus, you will have full movement. Pay no attention to the cords. We promise we will take care of you, and they will not impede your fighting ability.”

  The Magistrate walked over, placing his hand on Sextus' shoulder. "In time, Gladiator Sextus. Claudia, Domitia, please help the Gladiator prepare."

  Sextus stood up slowly, not wanting to lose his balance. Stepping away from the nurses, he felt a rush of adrenaline immediately as he began to move. Today may after all be a good day.

  Although only having rudimentary training, he immediately tried making stances, making imaginary thrusts, and envisioning killing his opponent with honor. Honor for his opponent; hope for himself. After a moment, he realized there were so many cords attached to parts of his clothing he couldn't get full movement just yet.

  "It's fine. Shocking it fits so remarkably well. A little limited with the cords attached to me."

  Claudia pointed at a bench." Please take a seat at the door."

  Walking to the opposite side of the room, he tried as best as he could and took a seat. The wait here on this bench would prove for Sextus the longest part of this journey. The Journey of Liberty for his family. How long would he have to sit without nurses, guards, and people to keep his mind distracted until the contest? He welcomed the quiet, but missed the distractions.

  Closing his eyes, he thought of Justina. Her smile had always given him hope. Today he needed her smile.

  The next event: the arena.

  Chapter VI

  Sextus could hear the roar of the crowds and the voice of an announcer. He couldn't make out what the announcer said, though. He squinted from the brightness of the lights in the room. Adrenaline surged through him. He wanted complete control of his thoughts more than adrenaline, the lights were an uncomfortable distraction.

  Leaning over to him, Domitia spoke. "Gladiator, the cables will take care of on the way to the arena. Claudia and I will assist you with those as we take you to the Arena. Please don't be alarmed. We who serve you, salute you."

  Claudia looked over the strong man again, saying, "You look familiar to me. Should I know you?"

  "I don't know, maybe we've met somewhere."

  "I'm sure I'd remember you."

  Sextus Antonius Magnus was not a high profile person, but he was a leader of the Republic. People who knew the ‘influencers’ would know him.

  "Gladiator Sextus Antonius Magnus?" Her voice was low, not a whisper, but not normal speaking volume.

  "Yes nurse, I am." He still didn't know if they were nurses, but he would call them that.

  "You remind me of someone I should recognize, and if so, rarely have we seen someone of your stature enter the games. You must be desirous of sport."

  "Claudia? Is that your name?"

  "Yes, Gladiator."

  "Here my name is Sextus Antonius Magnus. I do not enter for sport. I've made a promise to my wife and son. My sacrifice for the promise for liberty."

  "Then you must not be who I think you are. A gladiator fighting for liberty is not a freeman."

  "Well, Claudia, freemen and liberty are just words to most people."

  Claudia and Domitia began gathering the cords from behind his head. Sextus could not see what was taking place behind him, although he could see the reflection off a goblet. Gathering and sorting them into some order, they worked as a team. His hands free, Sextus reached up and touched his brow. He could feel the helmet on his head, immovable and attached.

  "That's snug. It won't move during the fight."

  The Magistrate's voice came into the room. "Attendants! Give the Gladiator your attention, not your conversation." His voice boomed and had a hollow echo.

  As quickly as he ended speaking, he was gone, even though Sextus, squinting, never saw
him. Where had he been? Possibly behind me, Sextus thought.

  "Gladiator, please stand when you feel able."

  "So we are close to the game?" he asked.Neither nurse spoke, but only looked at him. hey still looked like nurses dressed in white for a surgical procedure.

  Claudia, the nurse who filled out her white gown more than the other, leaned over Sextus and unhooked the one last cord attached to the chair. While she was leaning over him, he could see down her gown, and see her breasts were free. Her eyes lit up for a moment as she realized Sextus could see her chest, and was looking. As she worked to get her job done, she moved and stretched more than usual to provide Sextus with a show.

  The glint in her eyes, and the mischievous grin behind the mask told that she was making herself happy. Her eyes flashed, and she tried to flash him with her breasts every moment she could.

  "I hope these moments of preparation are enjoyable," she said as she brushed her chest against his, and then upwards. Her actions did not perform any useful action for Sextus’ preparation. From the glint in her eye the action did excite Claudia.

  Gladiators who entered the arena for the first time rarely stood a chance of victory unless the match was set to give a victory. With his position in society, Sextus Antonius Magnus may have victory. Maybe not.

  Leaning hard against him, and pressing to unhook some more of the cabling, she said "I still think you may be someone important. If so, your fight may be easier. Hope you aren't injured beyond repair. I would like to see you again."

  Sextus stood, not at all shaky as he thought he would be.

  "Well, the time has come."

  Stepping forward, he could hear the crowds cheering and reeling as a match raged in the Arena. The room he was in must be close to the doors of the Arena. Either on the side, or this room was below the Arena, since he could hear faint steps or noises above the ceiling.