A Gladiator is Born

A Gladiator is Born

I picked up my third sword and faced the enemy. I had broken two others trying to drive the split deeper in the stone. The effort had cooled my rage into blue despair. At first the raw power of metal on stone drew excitement into each swing. Now it was just a tool, and not a very good one against granite. I steadied the blade overhead and tensed for another strike.

“For a Jew, you have amazing determination.” A voice grumbled behind me. I whirled with sword still high. Shhing! “Do not cause me to take that sword away from you.”

“Who are you, friend?”

“Your stubborn attacks on the stone have erased your memory, but not mine. I remember when we dragged you from the ditch, Benjamin.”

“Well, I live here now, friend and I ask again, who are you?”

“Tertulus. Benjamin, you have the heart of 5 Romans, but do not tell Silvus I said so. Let me inspect your work.” He strode past me and exclaimed, “By the gods, is this all your work?”

“Yes.” I hung my head for I had only driven the crack as deep as my wrist.

“Then this is not your first sword.”

“No, Master Tertulus.”

“Just Tertulus will do. How many blades have you laid waste on this rock?”

“Two, this is my third.” I held out the weapon.

“This poor tool is almost broken as well. I quit after my first sword splintered. Emander broke three as you are about to do, but he did not push his crack only half as deep as yours. Truly your heart and arm are determined. If your rage is spent, I can tell you how to get away from this task.”

“Yes please,” I replied as notes of hope arose inside.

“Take your sword and bow low before Silvus. Tell him, ‘My rage is gone and I bow empty for you to fill me with your knowledge.’ Can you repeat that?”

“Master Silvus my rage is gone and I bow empty for you to fill me with your knowledge. Is that right?”

“That will do.” He handed me back the sword. “Finish off your third sword and take the pieces to Silvus.”

“Thank you, uh, Tertulus.”

“And Benjamin . . .”

“Yes?”

“It gets worse before it gets better.”

Finally the clanging stopped as his third sword cracked into three pieces. I prayed to God that he would not go for another one. His arrival had stirred feelings and his attacks of rage twisted and confused my insides. He had to stop. The Lord in his mercy heard this prayer. He retrieved two of the sword parts from the ground and turned away toward Master Silvus’ quarters.

“Uncle, is Master Silvus in his rooms right now?”

“Has that incessant clanging finally ceased? That boy frightens me with his anger, determination and stupidity!”

“Uncle!”

“Yes, dear? Why do you care if I spout off about that urchin Master dragged here out of the ditch?” I might have yelled more, but the smile at the edges of his mouth told me Uncle was teasing. “Yes, Master Silvus is in his rooms. Your tall, dark young man will find him there.”

Shortly Benjamin and Silvus walked to the stone. “At least he holds no new sword.” I thought. Silvus stuck his hand in the crack, then slapped Benjamin on the back. I stood too far away to hear what was said, but Benjamin hurried off toward the Gladiator’s quarters while Silvus clapped for servants.

“It may get harder from here, but at least I am past the first step.” I muttered to myself. As I stepped through the door and into the darkness, a burly cheer went up and before I could defend myself, slaps of admiration fell on my back.

“This is the last pain free day for you, Benjamin,” cheered Brutus.
“Welcome to the smelliest room in Caesarea!” Emander joined in. “This is your last day of fresh air!”

Benjamin moved out of the house. I only saw glimpses of him for the next few weeks. He changed each new peek I was able to capture. His eyes turned hard and wary. His arms grew channeled with muscles, bruises and scars from his training. Once it seemed he saw me. His eyes softened and I thought he smiled. I felt my insides light up when he did. “Listen, slave-girl, and hear your uncle who loves you. Benjamin is working with one focus, to swing a weapon as a gladiator. You will then be his slave and not his love. Take care of your heart.”

The first week, two weeks actually, destroyed any memory of the stone. It took all my emotional energy to come back each day. A typical day in those first two weeks was filled with hours of running strapped to a tree, followed by hours of lifting and throwing stones two or three times my weight. Mixed throughout the day I took up the broadsword. For practice, my tip and blade were wrapped in leather and I wore a suffocating leather breastplate. Silvus showed me the ten fighting positions. Soon I was thrusting and parrying through them as fast as Silvus could order me.

At the beginning of week two he struck back, so I could learn the defensive positions for each attack position. He gave me two slow speed slashes to learn the response, then I was to defend myself as he yelled out the position numbers of his attack. Even with leather protection, Silvus raised cries from me and bruises on my arms.

One day I spied Rebekah watching. I smiled, but she turned away before she saw I think. I carefully asked about her to the other slaves. They knew little, except that her uncle was her only family. He always seemed behind a wall when I drew near. He spoke with respect and did what was needed, but never anything more.

“Soon you will be able to take her you know.”

“What Brutus?”

“The Jewish slave girl, Rebekah, she’s the one who steals your gaze.”

“What of her?”

“You will be able to take her. The Master is investing in you like Emander. You will soon become more than a gladiator to him. Emander wanted Rebekah too. He was not Jewish, she not Roman.”

“Why would I take her, as you put it?”

“You are drawn to her? You are a man, she a lovely young woman. Why wouldn’t you take her? You are both Jewish, no mingled blood.”

“I am man enough for you!” With a roar I launched into him and drove him to the floor.

A month later I caught her alone. I waited until after evening meal. The perfume of her had once again wrapped around my insides. I dimly remember Brutus elbowing Tertulus to leave. Emander had not joined us that evening. Her every move about the table seemed a dance just for me.

“Would you like some more to eat or drink before I finish clearing away the food?”

My ears prickled as she spoke. “No thank you, Rebekah. Stay and sit awhile if you can.”

“I dare not. My uncle is expecting me soon.”

I grabbed her wrist. “No, no. Please sit.” I pulled her down next to me. “Tell me of yourself.”

“Yes Master.” She looked away curling her arms about her waist. “There is not much to tell. My parents died. My uncle and I are slaves.”

I slid next to her. The heat of her washed over my bones. She started to quiver. She slid away.

“I I must go now.” She knelt to rise. I caught her square in the back of her tunic and pulled her down.

“I apologize, Rebekah, for my own rudeness. I should tell you about myself. My Father sent me here to learn the Roman way. He owns great property and livestock. I was supposed to go to the Greek academy, but Master Silvus and I crossed paths on the way here. He convinced me that some time in Gladiator training would prepare me for Rome much more thoroughly.” I continued on with my lies for another couple of minutes. I felt her shrink at each phrase, as I look back on it. I thought the feeling was me, growing larger than life.

“thank you for telling me of yourself, Master. I am not sure why you told me, but I thank you for your trust.”

“I told you, so that when we lie together you will know me.”

“No, no I must leave.” I was too fast for her. I scooped her up and took her to my room, then I tortured her with my clumsy attempts at love-making. Her tears seemed to stoke my fires higher. By morning I was actually gaining skill in sex. At least her tears turned to moans. I always interpreted them to mean pleasure.

I ran to my uncle. The imprint of his hands stood out on my wrists. “Kill me uncle, kill me, kill me!”

“Child, Child was are you screaming about? What happened to you?” He yelled as he turned over my hands in his. I fell into him crying at a safe touch. “What happened? Was it him, was it Emander?”

“No, no, it was Benjamin, dear awful, beastly Benjamin.” I collapsed in tears. For the rest of the day. The next, uncle snuck in a doctor friend, a Greek from down the street. With Uncle holding both my hands, I gnashed my teeth and let him look me all over. They whispered outside the room.

“So, Ben, are you a Gladiator in the bedroom?” Brutus laughed with a wink.

“None of your business!” I swung back with a grin.

“What is this all about, you two?” Emander asked. “Did some young lady consent to give up her innocence to you, Benjamin?”

Just then Tertullus broke in the door. “Arise, Gladiators, our Master has called us to his aid! You too Benjamin!”