To Love Again - Bertrice Small [147]
The angry color slowly faded from her face and neck, and swallowing hard, she nodded her acquiescence. “I will never be happy again until I can find a way to revenge myself on Aspar,” she whispered.
“Let it go, my dear,” he told her. “There is no way.”
“The fat cow is going to have apoplexy,” Casia giggled wickedly in Aspar’s box. “She’s positively purple with rage. What did the emperor and the empress say to you that has infuriated her so greatly?”
“She has no reason to be angry with us,” Cailin said, and then she repeated the conversation she had had with the royal couple.
Suddenly there was a flourish of trumpets, and Casia said excitedly, “Ohh, the games are about to begin! I was visiting with my friend Mara at Villa Maxima yesterday, and I saw the gladiators there. Justin Gabras has taken it over for the entire term of their stay. The public is not allowed. He said he wanted his gladiators to have the very best while they were in Constantinople. Jovian is in his glory with all those beautiful young men about, and Phocas, I am told, is actually smiling, so great a price did Gabras pay him. Wait until you see the champion they call the Saxon! I have never before seen such a beautiful man. Castor, Pollux, and Apollo pale in comparison. Ohhhh!” she squealed. “Here they come now!”
The gladiators marched in procession into the Hippodrome, parading around it until they reached the imperial box, where they stopped. Weapons raised high, they saluted the emperor and their generous patron with a single voice. “Those about to die salute you!”
“There is the Saxon,” Casia said, pointing to the tallest man in the group. “Isn’t he magnificent?”
“How can you possibly tell?” Cailin teased her friend. “That helmet with its visor virtually renders him invisible.”
“True,” Casia agreed, “but you will have to take my word for it. He’s got golden hair, and blue, blue eyes.”
“Many Saxons do,” Cailin replied.
Aspar leaned over and said, “The first matches will be fought with blunt weapons, my love. There will be no blood shed for now, and it will give you an idea of the skills involved.”
“I think I will prefer it to what must come later,” Cailin told him. “Must all these men fight until only one of them survives?”
“No,” he told her. “Six specific matches will be fought to the death. That is the number that Gabras purchased from this particular troupe of gladiators. Two death matches will be fought today, two tomorrow, and two on the last day of the games. The Saxon, who is the unbeaten champion, will fight today and on the last day. His main rival is a man called the Hun, who must fight all three days. If he survives the first two days, they will probably pair him with the Saxon on the last day. That should be quite a match.”
“I think it horrendous that someone must die,” Cailin said. “They are young men. Why, it goes against the very teachings of the church to allow such barbarity, yet there sits the patriarch and all his priests in their box on the other side of the emperor, enjoying this.”
Aspar put a gentle hand on hers. “Hush, my love, lest you be overheard,” he warned her. “Death is a part of life.”
The battle had begun below them. Young men with small shields and blunt weapons fought one another en masse. The crowds loved it, but eventually they began to tire of the mock engagement.
“Bring on the Saxon! Bring on the Hun!” they screamed.
The trumpets sounded a recall, and the fighters ran from the arena. The groundskeepers came forth and raked the ground smooth. Then silence descended upon the Hippodrome for what seemed several long minutes. Suddenly the Gladiators Gate in the wall opened and two men stepped forth. The crowds began to scream with their excitement.
“It is the Hun,” Aspar said. “He will fight with a Thracian.”
“He has no armor,” Cailin said.
“He needs none