Under the Dying Sun

My gaze swung momentarily skywards, though the searing white light of the afternoon sun stung and caused me to turn away. I closed my eyes tightly, still seeing the blaring orb imprinted upon my eyelids, slowly fading to crimson. Even as I opened them to look to the dusty floor I could see the dark circle in my vision, though within a moment it had vanished. Ignoring the light and the heat, I leveled my head, looking over the crowd amassed all around me; above me in their seats. Their cheers were deafening. They craved blood.

The daylight had not yet faded, it was still furious though it was soon to pass. My body was already glistening with sweat from just standing there. Not that the stuffy corridors beneath the arena hadn’t added to it. Still, the sun was burning its mark onto the back of my neck. It felt almost as though my flesh would soon burst into flames. I breathed deep; it was hot, but in the Roman Empire there is always terrible moisture with that heat.

Likely there was more to it than that. I breathed deeply because I was preparing. Final preparations, of course; the time was soon at hand. I could feel my hand tighten involuntarily around the shaft of my only friend, my trident. In the other hand was the net. I despised it; I had seen many a man I trained with fall because it failed them upon use. Still, I was required to carry it, and I would attempt to make it as effective as possible.

Perhaps the sun was having more affect on me than I had thought. My vision blurred, the people became faceless masses that surrounded me in all their splendid bloodlust. My ears were not covered by a helmet, as I was not allowed to wear one. The emperor, of course, enjoyed seeing our faces when we died. This allowed me to clearly make out the cries of the crowd. “Kill! Kill! Kill!”

Absently, I flexed the muscles in my arms and chest. It wouldn’t be much longer before the crowd got what they had come for. A fight.

A portcullis opened, chains clanking loud enough for me to hear over the crowd’s now heightened roars. I glanced upwards for but a moment more. The sun seemed darker. Wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my leather-armored forearm, I watched for my opponent to step out.

Would it be my last time in the pit? If the gods were on my side, I would live to see combat again, despite how much I dreaded it. Still, I was trained to fight. It was all I knew.

Mostly, however, I was trained to die. With honor.

The hulking figure that was my opponent emerged from the perpetually dark recesses behind the entrances to the fighting pit; darkness that could be escaped only by death or godly intervention. He carried on his left an oblong shield that could easily defend that entire side of his body. His right hand held a short sword, the metallic blade blaring orange at me as the rays of the sun bounced off of it. His face was concealed by a full helmet of bronze. His right arm was encased in metal; Samnites were of course supposed to be superior to other gladiators in defense.

Some sort of command rang out in the air, and for a moment the crowd fell silent. I don’t know what was said, but we moved forward, beginning to circle and size each other up. I would have to keep him on the defensive and far enough away from me for his sword to be useless.

I became suddenly aware once again of just how hot it was, despite the shadow slowly creeping across the floor of the arena. I struggled to keep my eyes focused on him and my guard up, drops of sweat rolling into my eyes.

In the pit, the last to act is usually the first to die. Taking advantage of this principle, I thrust my trident at him. It was deflected easily by his large shield, just as I had expected it to be. Another thrust was blocked, as well as the following, and two more after that.

I kept moving. Mobility was my advantage over him, of course. His armor was heavier, it slowed him down more. If things played out correctly, he would make a mistake in impatience, leaving me an opening to drop him to the dirt. I jabbed at his left leg. He hopped back. As he did so, his shield was brought back to the side, leaving his front exposed.

I sent the net with the intent of tripping him. If he were to fall to the floor, he would be finished. Through some strange error, however, the net went too high. It was as though it knew how much I hated it. Instead of catching his leg, it caught his shield arm. I had no time to react. Combat in the arena is fast and unforgiving. The crowd would have it no other way.

Indeed I could hear their cheers as he reeled me in with a single pull. My head pounded with the noise as a piercing pain shot through my stomach. My eyes went wide. I felt blood trickle down my chin from the corner of my mouth. Everything slowed for a moment, everything was quiet save for the constantly present roar of the crowd. The blade removed itself from my flesh, and my legs liquefied. There was no pain as I hit the floor.

I brought a hand to the fresh wound, blood running warm onto it. Again my vision blurred, but this time it was not because of sweat. Everything seemed so strange at that moment, so peaceful yet terribly violent. Their shouts rose up like a wave of sweetly melodic hatred. “Kill! Kill! Kill!”

My eyes drifted to the sun once again. They were in another world, so far away. The bleeding circle hung in the air just above the wall of the arena, crimson against a gray sky. There I lay under the dying sun, its heat still immense.

I was aware of the serene silence about me an instant later, my head rolling to the side. There stood the emperor within his mighty booth, eyes fixed upon me. He wore a smug grin upon his face. He was pleased with the opening match of the evening’s games. I felt proud of myself. I had served well.

His hand moved out before him, level with his shoulder. His fist was loosely balled, thumb jutting out to the side. Time stood still. The entire arena hung on his decision. Slowly, painfully slowly, his thumb rose. It moved against the path of the dying sun, which was vanishing beyond the horizon, though they were one in the same. Thumb up. The crowd let out another roar of satisfaction.

I had been trained for this part more than any other. Utilizing what little strength was left in my body, I pushed myself up, managing to slide my knees beneath me. I positioned myself to face the emperor, certain to display no fear. There was none for me to show.

Even as this occurred, the sun continued its slow death, as it did every evening over the arena. For us, it was normal. It was what we were placed upon the earth to do. Rise up and fight to our fullest and die in glorious battle for the emperor. For Rome. My heart swelled with pride that never before I had felt. My eyes locked with those of my lord. And then I died beneath a blood red sun.