Playing the Game

Chapter 10: Beasts and Man

Those who were not participating in the Battle of the Bestiarius were ushered out of the arena through the main tunnel entrance, left to wander freely and watch the fight from behind closed gates if they so choose. I didn't stray far, keeping my face pressed up against the iron gate to witness the opening event.

The others were tossed helmets, shields and weapons as Maximus took his seat between his wife and son, waiting for the sacrifices to finish preparing.

The scruffy man looked content with his surroundings and the coming slaughter. He had been a gladiator long enough to know when it was really time to panic; this battle would be nothing more than child's play for him. He discarded the helmet given to him, taking the risk of head injury for ease of vision and movement.

But he was not who I was worried about. Evander hesitated, taking in the arena in nervous silence before sliding his helmet in place with trembling hands. He picked up his shield with great difficulty, not used to the weight of Capital equipment. He grasped his sword with his free hand, lunging forward with tense thrusts to test his motion. It was a poor attempt, wavering in his hand as the blade refused to become an extension of his arm. With his helmet shadowing his face, I couldn't see his expression. But I could tell that he was frightened, only because I would be too.

Once the gladiators were dressed, Maximus lifted a sluggish hand in a grand gesture and hollered, "The Battle of the Bestiarius has been chosen by my son to be the opening game to our tournament. All men must attempt to survive the wrath of their fellow gladiators and the beasts that will be thrown into the arena. There are no rules. Last man standing wins."

The audience cheered in anticipation as the gladiators took their stance, ready to spill blood at the Emperor's signal.

Maximus brought his fist down in a swift motion, "BEGIN!"

From every direction, gladiators began running towards each other with fierce battle cries. The only figure to stay still was Evander. He was stunned into a motionless state, seemingly lost. The tip of his sword remained in the sand and his shield held slack at his side. If it weren't for the steady rise and fall of his leather padded chest, he would look like a warrior statue.

My heart began to race as another gladiator spotted Evander, quickly sizing him up to be an easy kill for the taking.

"Come on, Evander..." I mumbled to myself, "Move! Do Something!"

The gladiator charged at Evander.

"Evander, move!" I screamed a little louder, but it was useless over the roar of the crowd.

His opponent was steps away, lifting his sword high in the air to strike.

"EVANDER!"

At the last second, Evander rolled away to safety. He then delivered a swift blow across the man's back, forcing the gladiator to collapse in pain.

I let out a huge breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

Evander moved on to his next opponent, only ever causing enough damage to impede the others. Killing an opponent wasn't necessary so long as you left the gladiator in no condition to fight. This gave all gladiators the chance to redeem themselves in the future. It was common sense, really. If all gladiators died in battle, there wouldn't be anyone left to fight. But I had a feeling that this wasn't Evander's motivation for mercy. After all the lives he was forced to take in the pits, the last thing he needed was to be haunted by more faces.

Evander was doing well for himself. After all this time, it was hard to believe that he would still be foremost in my mind for protection. I still saw him as the silent farmer and blacksmith who spent his days creating rather than destroying. He had proven his ability for survival time and again, and yet I still found reason to worry.