Well, Hope you all enjoy it!
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CHAPTER SEVEN
The crowd’s anxiety mounts with each gladiator battle. One after one, a gladiator is cut down in cold blood and the Roman’s voices rise together in frenzy. I feel sick as another dead man is dragged away as the victor runs about, yelling like a wild animal. The Roman’s start to chant, as the victor is lead away and I realize they all shout one name. “Marino. Marino. Marino. Marino. Marino. Marino!” They sing like a boisterous choir.
Then, their prayers are answered as Marino, the blonde gladiator is shoved into the sand bowl. His hair is tied into a pony at the base of his neck. Another gladiator joins him.
His opponent is enormous with arms as thick as tree trunks and a head of wild black hair. The man shakes his head and bellows like a beast. The crowd screams and I listen carefully, realizing that they are shouting his name too. “Arsenio. Arsenio. Arsenio!” I can hear the pounding of thousands of feet as the fight begins.
It seems as Marino and Arsenio are testing each other, knocking swords and then stepping quickly away. As I watch, I fear that Arsenio will win. Twice Marino’s size, he gives heavy blows to Marino’s sides with the butt end of his sword. But Marino doesn’t budge.
Finally, it seems that Arsenio’s patience has run thin, and he charges like a bull before a scarlet cloak. Marino dodges easily on light feet while twisting around, his sword glinting in the sunlight. I know Arsenio’s fate before Marino reacts, and I pull my eyes away but not before seeing Marino plunge his sword deep into the man’s back, between his spine and tailbone. The crowd roars like monsters and girls throw themselves against the wall. Marino pulls his sword free and Arsenio falls to his knees. Suddenly, the crowd is shouting again and I am terrified to find them shouting one thing. “Death! Death! Death!”
I know Marino’s fate as he gazes up at the emperor, who leans forward with rapt attention. I see the battle waging inside him and know that he faces death if he should defy the masses of Roman’s shouting for the Arsenio’s death.
I watch as Arsenio lifts his head back and bares his throat for Marino, who heaves a sigh. With one swift stroke, he cuts open Arsenio’s throat and spills his blood onto the sand at his feet. It stains it a crimson red and Marino stumbles back as Arsenio tips face first into his own puddle of blood.
The crowds are shouting Marino’s name again with more urgency. Girls weep as he makes his run around the perimeter of the arena. When he disappears, the Colosseum is buzzing with gossip and excitement. I fear I might hurl and place my head in my hands between my knees, not caring if someone sees. I feel my father pat my back and it soothes me, even for a little while.
When I look up, I see that there are men running about shifting the sand to cover the blood, and my stomach revolts. I quickly dip my chin between my knees, feeling ill.
~ ~ ~ ~
We return home hours later, and Delicia fusses over my pale complexion and the beads of sweat creating a tiara around my head. Father excuses it as a case of heat stroke, and I am sent to my room to rest. But after watching the murder and the bloodthirsty Roman’s shouting still ringing in my ears, sleep is deprived from me.
Instead, I take to the balcony and lay my forehead against the cool of the marble railing. It sends trickles of ice across my spine and I shiver, standing erect again. My head pounds and I stumble, feeling faint. Breathing heavily, I hurry to my bed and collapse in the canopy, covering my head with a pillow.
With my eyelids closed, I see images of Marino and Arsenio and they send my heart aching. How can Roman’s love such bloodshed? How can Roman’s shout for murder?
~ ~ ~ ~
I sleep, but restlessly. I dream of Marino and Arsenio. I see them fighting in the arena and then, suddenly, I am the one fighting Marino. I feel the blade of a sword enter my back and look down with surprise as I see the tip of a blade protruding from my abdomen. It is ripped from me and I collapse to my knees, holding my stomach as blood bubbles from the mortal wound. I look up with pleading eyes to Marino as the crowd screams for my death. With a cold stare, Marino lifts his bloodstained sword and slices my throat. I see Marino, his eyes swimming with tears of regret as my world engulfs into blackness.
I wake with a start and whimper softly, tears coming swiftly. I cry for Arsenio, who will never again see the light of day. I cry for Marino, who will go through his whole life with this man’s death on his hands. I cry for myself, who had to witness such gory entertainment. And my heart cries for the sanctuary of home.
~ ~ ~ ~
It’s been two weeks since the games at the arena. I am slipping into a state of melancholy. Everything seems dull and lifeless. Even the garden has lost its appeal. I sulk in my bedroom for most of the day, picking at the plaster on the walls or just sleeping in fits of complete boredom. I see less and less of Evander and my father as their work pile mounts with each passing day. Nicandro seems to be avoiding the home. His feet no longer bless the floors or his shadows brighten the entertainment room. The slaves’ gossip reaches my ears and they whisper of the courtship between Nicandro and the lovely Celia. I hear that he is a frequent guest at their home, and this makes my mood dip even lower.
I haunt the Terrence one cloudy afternoon and sigh heavily into my hands. My body shivers in the chill of the cool day and feet tingle for the warmth of my slippers. Just then, a soft hand molds itself over my head and I sit up with dreary eyes. “Oh, child.” It is Delicia and her perfect face looms close. “Why so sad?” she coos softly, smoothing the tendrils of hair from my face. I shrug, any effort to talk evaporating into the cold air around us at her gentle gaze. I want no sympathy. I need no guidance. My only wish is to be alone. “Isadora?” Delicia presses softly, her voice like sunlight on such a cloudy day.
“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully, my voice cracking from being quiet for so long.
“Please, there is no need for formality here,” Delicia reprimands kindly with an angelic smile. My mouth twitches but a smile never surfaces. “It seems there is something bothering you, but you don’t need to share it with me. I think I know.” She winks, and I tilt my head in wonder. She knows? Does she know of Marino haunting my dreams and of Arsenio’s war cry? Does she know Caradoc visits me while I slumber with his face clouded in anguish at whatever horror his previous courter shamed him with? My heart leaps when I think of Nicandro. Does she dare know of Nicandro’s pleasing face kissing Celia’s lovely one? Does she guess my desire for him? I shudder at the embarrassment of it and I wait with anxiety.
“You wish to escape these walls. You need the country, my dear.” I breathe a sigh of relief as she continues. “Your face is deathly pale. Even with your ivory skin, you still need sun. You look so deprived.”
“I’m not sure where I will get this country sunshine you so wisely prescribe,” I tell her quietly.
“Oh, don’t fret. I have the perfect solution. Come with me!” Delicia’s eyes shine with the prospect. My own darken ever so slightly in fear.
“With you where?” I ask tentatively.
“To the country, of course!” Delicia says with delight. “We have a little cottage off in the country. I’ve been planing to take a trip there myself in due time but it is dreadfully lonely going alone. And with Evander always working and Nicandro visiting with Octavio, I have no one to go with.” Delicia pouts and my heart splits at the mention of Nicandro. [/i] So the servants tell the truth...[/i] “So, why don’t we go together?”
I pause before answering. A big part of me wants to tell her to go alone and leave me be. To just let me sulk in peace. But a small, yet strong voice urges me to accept.
What harm could come of it? The voice caresses my ear. “Yes, what harm?” I repeat softly and Delicia look at me.
“Is that a yes, then?”
I nod and for the first time, a smile breaks through the cloud of my face and shines forth with brilliance. “Yes. I would love to accompany you.”
~ ~ ~ ~
The day we depart from the Chandrenos’ home is a cheerful day indeed. Delicia is in high spirits, her mood contagious as a few horses are prepared for our journey. I smile when the animals are brought forth. One is an immense creature, with a chestnut coat and braided mane. The other is slightly smaller with a white body and dark mane and tail. I approach the smaller of the two, the mare, and stroke her nose with gentle fingers. She snorts and I laugh. Delicia grins and thanks the man by paying him.
The servants load our animals with what we will need for the journey: blankets, jugs of fresh water, cloaks for the chilly night, and food. Slaves help us mount. Delicia sits astride the large stallion with an experienced air while I clumsily hold the reins in perspiring palms. The trip will take a day and two nights to reach and I recheck the load before we make our exit.
We take the back roads through Rome, dressed in simple attire as not to attract thieves. I had meant to ask Delicia why the guards that usually surround her are not accompanying us. I had never heard of a woman leaving the home alone, especially one as wealthy as Delicia. But, sitting astride the horse, there is not a single flicker of fear in her bright eyes. She is no longer the delicate angel. She looks strong and wise and all fear leaves me at her confident grace.
Your reviews always make me laugh. You talking in third person really makes my day! lol
Keep writing. Don't you dare abandon this for Poisened Roses. I actually like this better than that one, sorry. I think this needs to be the first novel you finish, because I like it! Oh, and you also need to write what we discussed. You, know, Isa's BFF coming down, etc. I don't want to give it away for Esme ;P
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