VI
Rasenna gripped the coarse iron bars from inside the cell. Her head throbbed
from the thorns that had been removed shortly after they entered the cool gloom
of the basement below the arena. Her soggy mantle and then tunic were taken, the
crown slammed back on her head and then she was put in a cell.
"Open the cell. Bring her out. Chain her wrist to the others'. She will lead the
poma." The organizer of the spectacle shouted orders.
Rasenna thought the aedile had a squeaky voice, rodent-like, but she stepped
from the cell as the door swung open, allowed chain to link her wrist with a
gladiator and moved toward the elevator platform that would lift them all back
up into daylight. The parade of gladiators before those gathered inside the
coliseum would be her first look at its interior.
At least wearing just the two pieces of leather would be cooler. A drop on her
arm distracted. A fresh blood dot slid into a thin stream and ran down from
Rasenna's upper arm. It had fallen from one of the thorns. Rasenna looked away,
and chose to ignore the newest reminder of her crown.
Slaves worked pulleys and the platform rose. All were soon above ground.
She stood dumfounded. Rising, and filling most of the arena space was a small
mountain. It was a fair replica of the area where she finally was captured.
Trees and shrubs, along with rocks and cliffs, were all planted or constructed
in the center of the ring. Rasenna even saw a stream of water just like the one
she had dove into to escape the Romans, except this one looked like it encircled
the whole mountain making it into a small island. Her eye caught something move
amongst the planted undergrowth and she wanted to see what it was, but a hand
pulled her elbow.
"Come on. You'll get time to look more later."
Crowds filling the two tiers cheered the arrival. Most of all, they cheered the
gladiatrix. The previous week all had heard the gossip and seen the graffiti
covering the city's walls proclaiming this spectacle. Patricians had the best
seats. These were located on the lowest tier. It was the most shaded with a huge
awning shading them. Above shouted females of many classes. There was a smaller
awning covering them in shade and standing above all were plebians and slaves.
Tuba and cornu brass sounded around the packed coliseum. Pennants hung limply in
the stilled air. Triumphal emblems sparkled around the venue. All grew ecstatic,
as the elevator appeared bearing those they had come to see.
It was a short walk over to front Scipio's luxury box. Rasenna barely bothered
to consider the cushioned seats, elaborate frescoes, glittering jewelry, or
wafting perfume odors. She kept silent and eyes on the ground until she felt
their guide lead them back toward the elevator.
Once more in the bowels of the coliseum, Rasenna inhaled the cool air. It was
rank with the smells of animals and humans, but at least it was not as hot as
above. From the corner of her eye she saw one of the slaves approach carrying a
leather belt with sheath attached.
"This is for you," he said as he knelt and tightened the belt around her waist
and then a small strap at the end of the sheath to anchor it to her thigh. "You
are to be first."
Rasenna walked with the slave back to the elevator. Waiting there was the
Nubian. In his hand he held out to her an old sword. "What's this?"
"Your weapon, gladiatrix. Take it."
She held out a hand, then used two. The short blade was heavy. Rasenna looked
down at the rust and pitted surface and was about to protest when she felt the
platform under her move as she was lifted up. She looked back into the basement
and saw all of their eyes upon her.
None spoke as she rose back into bright sunlight.
