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Authors: Christopher Lee Buckner
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to them; a sea of fingers eagerly grabbing for anything that was thrown towards them. When the carts emptied, they departed through one of the side gates, leaving the arena.
Gaius and Antony noticed a man with rosy cheeks and a curly bright-red wig step on top of a large podium, and raised his flabby arms as, he signaled for the crowd to be silent. After a few minutes, the mob finally did begin to settle as the editor of the games started to speak. Through the oval arena, his broad voice carried like the wind.
“My fellow Romans, esteemed senators, honored guests, and freedmen, I welcome you to the Games of Jupiter!” The editor paused and allowed the crowd to roar once more, as he nodded his thanks to the audience as their praise was directed towards him.
“This week we have seen blood and much death, and great warriors live and die. Now, I promise you that the final bout of this grand celebration will be one for the ages. Each of you here today shall remember this battle for as long as you shall live. You will one day speak to your grandchildren about it,” the editor boasted joyously, drawing out with his words the magnitude of the final battle. “Without further ado, Rome is proud to present to you, your challengers from the House of Brutus!”
Across from Gaius and Antony, one of the gates similar to the one they were now hanging from opened up. Seconds later, as the crowd began to roar, throwing down flower petals that fluttered like rain, five men, bigger than any Gaius had ever seen, emerged from the darkness and stepped out into the arena; arms help up as the crowd cheered furiously for them.
Antony roared as loud as his lungs could muster, but Gaius' own mouth stayed closed as he studied each of the men, who stood in the center of the arena, in a perfect half circle waiting for their opponent to enter.
The five men, three white, two black-skinned, carried an array of weapons: spears, short Spanish swords, a trident, and small shields that cupped their hands. Two of the gladiators wore large fish-bowl helmets that concealed their faces from view. One of the black-skinned men wore a tight formfitting helmet; while the other dark-skinned man, as well as one of the white men had their heads exposed, wrapped simply by a long brightly-colored cloth, clear for all in the audience to see their scarred but still youthful faces.
Their powerful, well-toned bodies glistened in the falling sun as they stood proud, taking in the endless admiration from the audience who cheered each of their names. They knew what the next match meant, that unlike most gladiator bouts, this one would be fought to the death. However, they waited, absorbing the energy from the crowd, ready and willing to do what was demanded of them for the pleasure of the mob.
“Now, for our main attraction!” the editor called out as the loud as he could; arms raised as the eyes of thousands turn ed back towards him. “The man you've all come to see. The greatest warrior to walk the Earth since the time of Achilles, Hector, Heracles or Cincinnatus; a man who knows no fear; a man who has defeated a thousand men across the whole of the Republic; a man who needs no introduction – I give you, Calfax of Sparta!”
The announcer ’s words were easily drowned as the crowd erupted into a thunderous applause that shook the grandstands like an earthquake. Gaius saw a few of the spectators faint as the big Spartan stepped out into the arena and took his position between the five other men, who quickly circled Calfax.
Antony , while he didn’t know who Calfax was, was so swept up in the excitement that he cheered as loud as the audience, or at least tried. Even this low to the arena floor, Gaius could barely hear his friend’s joyful admiration for the gladiator.
The gladiator Calfax wore a tight-fitting Spartan helmet, made of bronze, which was topped with a bright red feathered crest. He was bare-chested; his torso and arms lined with hundreds of scars
Gaius and Antony noticed a man with rosy cheeks and a curly bright-red wig step on top of a large podium, and raised his flabby arms as, he signaled for the crowd to be silent. After a few minutes, the mob finally did begin to settle as the editor of the games started to speak. Through the oval arena, his broad voice carried like the wind.
“My fellow Romans, esteemed senators, honored guests, and freedmen, I welcome you to the Games of Jupiter!” The editor paused and allowed the crowd to roar once more, as he nodded his thanks to the audience as their praise was directed towards him.
“This week we have seen blood and much death, and great warriors live and die. Now, I promise you that the final bout of this grand celebration will be one for the ages. Each of you here today shall remember this battle for as long as you shall live. You will one day speak to your grandchildren about it,” the editor boasted joyously, drawing out with his words the magnitude of the final battle. “Without further ado, Rome is proud to present to you, your challengers from the House of Brutus!”
Across from Gaius and Antony, one of the gates similar to the one they were now hanging from opened up. Seconds later, as the crowd began to roar, throwing down flower petals that fluttered like rain, five men, bigger than any Gaius had ever seen, emerged from the darkness and stepped out into the arena; arms help up as the crowd cheered furiously for them.
Antony roared as loud as his lungs could muster, but Gaius' own mouth stayed closed as he studied each of the men, who stood in the center of the arena, in a perfect half circle waiting for their opponent to enter.
The five men, three white, two black-skinned, carried an array of weapons: spears, short Spanish swords, a trident, and small shields that cupped their hands. Two of the gladiators wore large fish-bowl helmets that concealed their faces from view. One of the black-skinned men wore a tight formfitting helmet; while the other dark-skinned man, as well as one of the white men had their heads exposed, wrapped simply by a long brightly-colored cloth, clear for all in the audience to see their scarred but still youthful faces.
Their powerful, well-toned bodies glistened in the falling sun as they stood proud, taking in the endless admiration from the audience who cheered each of their names. They knew what the next match meant, that unlike most gladiator bouts, this one would be fought to the death. However, they waited, absorbing the energy from the crowd, ready and willing to do what was demanded of them for the pleasure of the mob.
“Now, for our main attraction!” the editor called out as the loud as he could; arms raised as the eyes of thousands turn ed back towards him. “The man you've all come to see. The greatest warrior to walk the Earth since the time of Achilles, Hector, Heracles or Cincinnatus; a man who knows no fear; a man who has defeated a thousand men across the whole of the Republic; a man who needs no introduction – I give you, Calfax of Sparta!”
The announcer ’s words were easily drowned as the crowd erupted into a thunderous applause that shook the grandstands like an earthquake. Gaius saw a few of the spectators faint as the big Spartan stepped out into the arena and took his position between the five other men, who quickly circled Calfax.
Antony , while he didn’t know who Calfax was, was so swept up in the excitement that he cheered as loud as the audience, or at least tried. Even this low to the arena floor, Gaius could barely hear his friend’s joyful admiration for the gladiator.
The gladiator Calfax wore a tight-fitting Spartan helmet, made of bronze, which was topped with a bright red feathered crest. He was bare-chested; his torso and arms lined with hundreds of scars
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