EMBERS (Marcus Acacius)

IXX | In All Its Glory

The journey back to Rome had felt like an eternity—two weeks on the merciless ocean had taken its toll on me. As I rode beside Acacius, I couldn't help the nostalgia that settled in my gut at the all-too-familiar scenery. The cool ocean air had quickly given way to the vast Italian countryside, but despite its unwavering beauty, my chest felt tight. The last time I had travelled this road was on my way to Ostia.

I tried not to think of the city walls that I knew would be visible on the horizon any moment now—the very same walls that had trapped me for so many years. The city of marble and grandeur, with its endless streets filled with eyes that never seemed to miss a thing. Rome was not a welcoming place by any means—first the Colosseum, then the shadow of it that seemed to follow me, even as far as Numidia. I couldn't escape it, no matter how hard I tried.

Contrary to my unease, Acacius—who was mounted on a great, black destrier to my left—looked like he belonged in Rome. He had given everything to the empire, as a soldier, a gladiator, and now as the general of the legions. As much as it had once pained me to see the elite tread all over him, it was nice to see that his undivided loyalty had now been rewarded.

Every time I looked at him, I was immediately reminded of everything that had changed. His presence was larger, more imposing than before and the hardened lines of battle that adorned his face spoke volumes of the hardship he had experienced. I guess I had always imagined we would endure those hardships together—that was what hurt the most. Despite all that though, his presence was familiar, like returning home after many years.

The pounding of hooves crunched in the gravel and the breath hitched in my throat when I saw it. Grand, marble and leering. The city walls loomed ahead, erected from the earth like a great turret. Nothing else in the world could even attempt to match its exceeding level of ostentatious resplendency.

"How do you feel?" Acacius asked, his voice cutting through the incessant pounding of my heart in my ears.

I glanced over at him, my lip quivering slightly as his gaze remained on the path ahead. It was a loaded question though—he already knew exactly how I was feeling. I had been trying to hide my apprehension, but Acacius saw past my facade as easily as one might see through a clean window. I hadn't forgotten what this city had done to me—how it had reduced me to nothing more than a pawn in a game I never had a hope of winning.

"I'm fine," I replied, though the words felt hollow and alien on my tongue.

Acacius responded with a chuckle, and—for a moment—I almost thought I caught a glimpse of the man I had known all those years ago. But, the image was fleeting, and by the time he finally turned to face me, it was gone. He didn't press me, even though I knew he didn't believe me. He just raked his eyes over my face—so full of undisguised concern—before returning them to the path ahead.

When we finally arrived at the gates, I suddenly became acutely aware of what I was about to step into. The city that had forced me into the arena, and then—subsequently—into hiding. Standing in the shadow cast by the great stone wall, I felt smaller than I ever had before.

When the magnificent gates opened, our convoy was met with thousands of Roman citizens, crowded in the streets. Men, women and children screamed and shouted when they spotted Acacius, excitement and awe clear on their faces. They love him, I thought with wonder, watching how Acacius waved, a broad smile on his lips. Despite all of our time apart, I still knew when he was faking a smile; it never quite reached his eyes.

I kept my head down as we rode through the streets. I knew I was old news; none of these people would recognise me from my days in the Colosseum. For all any of them cared, I could be dead and it wouldn't have made any difference. Once a gladiator was killed, they were irrelevant—revered and adored during their career, then completely lost to the minds of the spectators forever. There were exceptions to every rule, of course. Gladiators like Maximus and even Acacius continued to live on as celebrities—both in death and in life. I was not Maximus or Acacius, though.