Infames

XIV

As clouds gathered in the sky, the air felt sticky and humid, but it was still a bright, sunny day nonetheless. Gaizaz leaned against the stone facade of the Flavian Amphitheatre, watching as the crowds shuffled past and through the archways, into the colossal arena. Gods and emperors (often one in the same) looked down upon the people from their marble pedestals. There were men, women, and children alike, and the smell of hot food wafted over from the nearby stalls. Music came from a band of performers by the market, and there were smiles and laughter and at once the world was free from cares.

Gaizaz wished he could afford the same luxury.

Footsteps grinding into the dust beside him caught his attention and he turned his head, glancing down to see Murinus. In his hands he held a little wooden tray, upon which sat almonds, flat bread, and some chicken that appeared to have been cooked in a red sauce that smelled warm and of figs. The actor looked back up at Gaizaz, traces in the corner of his mouth while he chewed. It would be all too easy to reach down and brush it away with his thumb, but the mercenary restrained himself. Instead, he fixed the other man with a serious look.

"Where have you been? I've been waiting for ages, and it's almost midday."

Murinus lifted his plate, as if it was a worthy excuse. "Food."

"I can see that," Gaizaz grumbled, then gripped the back of the actor's tunic, making him squeak with surprise, and pushed him inside through one of the great arches.

The rounded ceilings were tall, and it was far cooler within the structure. Great stone blocks made up the walls, most of which was littered with graffiti, much like the rest of the city. People wandered about, enacting the rituals of socialisation before they would inevitably take their seats. Some took stairs up to higher levels, while others ventured deeper into the structure: all seemed to be heading to their seats.

Gaizaz began to walk forwards, through towards the seating, but suddenly he was yanked backwards, nearly tumbling over. He whipped his head around and saw Murinus clinging to his sleeve with his free hand, his knuckles white. Before the mercenary could even open his mouth to protest, Murinus spoke, his voice firm.

"We can't sit in that section."

Gaizaz frowned. "Why not?"

"It's reserved for the senators and the equites."

"Fine." The mercenary huffed. "We'll go one floor up, then."

As he made to move, Murinus gripped his sleeve a little tighter, not at all budging. Gaizaz grimaced.

"What now? It's going to start soon."

Murinus pursed his lips. "We have to sit at the back."

"What?" Gaizaz frowned. "I don't want to."

"But we have to."

"No, Murinus, I want a good view–"

At once, he was dragged in close, and the young man was glaring up at him.

"I don't think you understand," he hissed quietly, every word dagger-sharp as his face now wrinkled into a snarl. "I'm infamis. I'm not even allowed to be here, malaké. My social class limits me, and I have to have to live with that. Not that you'd understand."

Gaizaz went quiet for a moment.

"Were you born free?" His voice remained calm.

Murinus furrowed his brow, clearly taken aback by this.

"Answer me," Gaizaz repeated. "Were you born free under the rule of the Empire?"

Murinus nodded slowly. "Not here, but yes, in the province of Crete and–"