Son of Rome

Chapter 6

                 

The Emperor stood, arm stretched out at shoulder height, thumb extended to one side from his closed fist. His gaze swept the Coliseum, seeming to meet every patron's gaze evenly as he waited to hear whether his subjects desired life or death of the defeated gladiator.

Cassius and the Celt both looked at the Emperor, awaiting his verdict. Gradually cries of "Life" and "Death" swept through the throng fairly evenly. The Emperor's face scrunched up with indecision.

"I don't care what that little goat humper wants." The Celt said, spitting into the dust. His skin was pale with blood loss. His breathing had taken on a wheezing quality a he struggled to breathe with the damaged lung. "I hear he likes wee lads." The Celt tilted his head up to stare into Cassius' eyes. "That was a good fight, lad." He nodded his head in respect. "But I am tired..." He nodded toward his severed hamstrings. "...and you've crippled me. I have no desire for a life like that. Kill me, boy!" He spat, eyes pleading. "Let me go to my gods with honor, lad, not as some bed-ridden cripple dying in his own filth."

Cassius looked into the eyes of his foe and felt honored to have faced such a warrior. "Very well," He agreed just as the Emperor's thumb turned upwards, signifying that the gladiator was to live. "You'll tell your gods about me, yes?" He asked, smiling.

"Oh yes." The Celt agreed, matching Cassius' smile with one of his own. "I will surely tell them of such a great warrior." He tilted his head forward so that Cassius' strike could be clean. "I will await you in Woden's halls, lad."

Cassius smiled and speared his Gladius forward at the base of the Celt's skull, severing the spinal cord. The blade sang as he ripped it back out of the wound and held it high. The Celt's body thudded lifelessly into the dust. The blood coated blade caught the sunlight and reflected it back into the crowd, who cheered for the gladiator who would defy an Emperor. Blood from his blade ran down his arm and dripped onto this face...as though anointing him.

The Emperor's visage was a poorly hidden mask of rage.

"Great Caeser!" Cassius called over the crowd's roar. "You have betrayed these people." One arm spread wide to encompass all of the Coliseum, the other clutched close to his chest. "You are evil and corrupt; a betrayer of those closest to you. You had my father killed and now you sent me to the arena to die so that my protests may be silenced before I draw too many followers to my cause." Cassius smiled. "I say to you now...it is too late!" Cassius dropped his Gladius and removed the dagger that the guard had slipped him in one fluid motion. His arm snapped forward to send it spinning end over end toward its intended target.

Archers arrayed around the Emperor's personal viewing box loosed their arrows, but it was too late. The dagger struck, burying itself nearly to the hilt in the Emperor's throat. He fell back, screaming a high-pitched gurgle as crimson darkened his purple robes.

"Revolution!" Cassius cried as arrows thumped into his flesh, flinging him lifelessly back into the dust.

At this signal, thousands of arena goers lept to their feet, threw off their robes, and drew weapons. Within minutes, the Emperor and his guards lay dead, hacked to pieces by an oppressed people ready for freedom.

Cassius' body was carried from the Coliseum, cleaned and washed, and he was buried as an Emperor, covered in the finest silks and armor forged from solid gold.

He was everremembered as the man who made Rome a Republic again and a true son of Rome.