Blood of a Barbarian Read Free Page B

on an upper floor of the building, which overlooked a great arena floor full of sand. I took it that this was the training area. The cell into which I was told to enter was much cleaner and nicer than any I had ever seen before, and even had a straw mattress which was elevated off the ground on a stone platform. On the ground was a bowl of food and one cup of wine and one of water. I was told by the head slave to eat, and to rest. I would be called for in the morning.
    I did not have to be told to eat, and quickly devoured all that was in the bowl, and drank the cups dry to the last drop. Then I lay down on the mattress, which felt to my bruised back, like a bed of clouds must to a reclining god.

CHAPTER THREE
    The Ludus Magnus
     
     
    I was awakened by the sound of jangling keys in the lock on my cell door. A harsh voice called out for me to get up, and I just had time to stumble out of bed before the door swung open and the head of a unkempt-looking uniformed guard glared into my cell.
    "On your feet I said!" he growled. "You'll learn to jump when I give orders from now on."
    I made my way out the door and onto the landing, where the scruffy guard and one of his subordinates were waiting impatiently. I knew better than to ask any questions, and so just followed them as they walked, softly padding behind them in my bare feet over the cool floor. There was still a chill in the air, and I shivered. The sun was just now beginning to come up over the roof of the school, and for the first time I got a good look at the structure. It was three stories high, and shaped as a rectangle, with the cells of the gladiators spaced out evenly on all three floors. There had to be at least a hundred and twenty cell doors by the look of it, and each floor was upheld by a series of columns.
    It was the center of the building that caught my eye though, which was a huge courtyard, for though I had had a glimpse of it the day before, I had not been able to fully appreciate the sheer scale of the thing. The arena in the center of the courtyard was giant, easily big enough for a thousand men to stand in comfortably -a huge oval of sand, which the first rays of the sun were just now beginning to shine down upon. Around the arena, there was gradually inclined seating, and I guessed that there was enough room for ten thousand spectators or more. Such a number of people I had never seen before in my entire life. The seats were now empty, but I tried to imagine them full, and found it difficult. Overlooking everything, were three balconies that ran around the entire length of the building, as well as what appeared to be a fourth balcony, which ran round the rim of the arena, and upon which even more spectators could stand. I was dumbfounded by the complexity of what I was seeing, and could barely take it all in.
    After having gone through a series of large doors, and down several flights of stairs, I was ushered into a rather large room. The air in this room smelled strange, much like herbs and plants and medicinal things. Several of the men I had travelled by wagon with were standing about, as though waiting for something. The guards stepped back a bit, and left us waiting. I then heard the cry: "Next!" and one of my fellow slaves stepped forward. A pale stooped old man stood up from his chair and began squeezing the man all over, and inspecting him as though he were a rare specimen of fungus. I took it that this was the Medicis, and that we were being checked for our overall health and fitness.
    After a few more of the men had gone, it was my turn, and I fought the urge to recoil as the old Medicis's knobby old hands squeezed and pinched my body all over.
    "Cough," he said curtly.
    "Why?" I asked.
    "You're not here to ask questions," he said dismissively. "Do you want to be a gladiator or not?"
    "Yes, but I don't see what coughing has to do with it."
    The man let out a cackle of a laugh, as though I had just said something very funny. "By the gods!"