Chapter 6: February 20th 64AD

“Pot să vă atrag atenția? ... Ladies and Gentlemen! May I have your attention, please!” yelled one of the announcers from the amphitheater. “All fellow Romans, we have a great fight today planned. One of the best fights that Rome will ever see will be made here today.”

“They always say that... , “ the gladiator remarked quietly with his sultry voice as he overheard the announcer from the closed door. “Every fight is the greatest they have ever seen. Me ... nothing can stop me.”

“We are joined in this great fight by our wonderful leader who will bear witness to this event, the great Caesar ... Nero!”

There was thunderous applause from outside the door as the gladiator stood where he was. His adrenaline and equipment stood ready to see the thunderous crowd that he had already seen countless times already. They would already know him. They had already seen him fight before, and he was unstoppable. Even Nero himself was gaining a liking to see him battle. He was a force to be reckoned with. An unstoppable force that was destined to win all the battles set before him.

“Two champions will enter the battle,” the announcer continued. “One will fall, one will win. Our first champion will be Caius Brutus winner of twenty battles!”

The gladiator knew his name was next. He began to tense up, waiting for the doors to open as he heard the audience outside cheer.

“The gladiator he will fight is a winner of every battle for almost three years! He had fought numerous obstacles. A fighter from Africa and Egypt. Our champion will be Spiculus!”

The door opened to let him out. The sunlight flooded from the entrance, practically blinding him as he stood out, letting his eyes adjust as he began to walk outside to a cheering crowd as the gladiator stepped out.

Spiculus walked out to a massive invitation. Some of the audience that already knew Spiculus was cheering his name. In the end, he only heard one collective cheer, and that was “Spiculus! Spiculus! Spiculus!”

He was in a typical amphitheater as the Great Coliseum was still in the process of being designed. He wore heavy armor, a galea or helmet, a parma or rounded shield, combined with a Gladius sword, armored boots that covered his feet and knees, and a layer of clothing including a loincloth, to cover the rest. He observed the environment. He walked on old blood-soaked sand as he looked at his amphitheater. Rows upon rows stacked behind the others as it went several rows of seating upward wholly surrounding him. At least a thousand was present for the battle that was to unfold. He was more looked at as a Secutos gladiator that fought with the sword and shield typical of a Roman soldier. The helmet looked like it had a fishnet that helped protect his head. He only preferred to take his helmet off once the fight was over.

Spiculus was fighting Brutus, a Thrax like gladiator. This gladiator wore lighter armor and fought with a scimitar and shield. The way Spiculus could see already from the gladiator, he saw from his stance and body language of that of a volunteer, a person that willingly went to the gladiator combat to gain fame unlike himself that started as a near slave.

In gladiator combat, all were equal in the arena. If you went in, you could walk out as a victor to be showered by attention and fame. Slaves had more to fight for and more to gain as a result. The loser well ... the loser was usually dead, and that was that.

Spiculus continued to walk forward as the crowd garnered both the gladiators with attention. He himself knew that this was going to be a fight. He was not overconfident, but with almost three years of no defeats under his belt, he began to feel that he was somewhat unstoppable. However, as each victory was made, so too did the difficulty against harder and harder opponents. His skin was partially dark comparable to that of an Egyptian of the day. He would be handsome if it were not the helmet that covered his head.

At the center of the row of seats that perched to a high mount was the Caesar himself. Sitting beside him was his wife and empress Poppaea Sabina. They both sat comfortably at their seats, clapping at the gladiators that were soon to fight.

Spiculus was used to seeing the Caesar before. He appeared recently in his previous fight against a tiger and war dogs that he was able to dispatch quickly with his spear. Like most gladiators, continued victories continued to gain you fame and notice amongst all, including even the leader of Rome.

For the Roman Empire, it was at its infancy. By 50 AD, it was still growing. Under the previous ruler Claudius, it began its venture into Britain, fighting the various clans to spread its influence. This would lead to the great port city of Roman London to be built that would last to this very day. With the death of Claudius, his grand-nephew Augustus Nero would take the seat.

Only rumors circulated about Nero. To Spiculus, he was still new to the scene, and any stories that he heard of him, he quickly dismissed. In a fight to the death, politics was the last thing on his mind. Nonetheless, seeing the Caesar not far above him looking over him always put him at the center of the play. If he died, then all would see him perish. At least with death, he would not have to face the humiliation of losing, but death was still not an option.

He ignored the countless spectators. They were a distraction, and he learned almost by fatal mistake that looking at them too much during a battle resulted in defeat or death. The crowd was there to enjoy the fight, not care who wins or who dies. As long someone dies, then that is all that matters.

“I will win this...” Spiculus said quietly to himself. “Victory will be mine.”

He looked at Nero briefly as the Caesar looked at him quickly in return. There was a look of satisfaction on his face of the upcoming battle. Nero, with his curly beard that wrapped around his face, the pale complexion, the plant wreathe that dotted his sides of the typical Caesar that lived in luxury, was a man that enjoyed the bloody sport of arena fights. Dressed in white and red, as he sat in his throne beside his wife, he was quiet as he put one finger to his jaw in a relaxed pose of watching him fight.

Spiculus reached the center of the dirt arena as he stood beside the other gladiator Brutus. He stood at about the same height as him and nodded with his helmet at the ready. His curved sword and shield made him look like most typical gladiators. He never knew Brutus and what his story was. He was trained like all the other gladiators in the basics of combat and never saw him or at least seen him enough of his face to care. All he knew was now, he was going to fight him, and by the time the battle would be over, he would be dead, or Brutus would be dead.

Brutus seemed quiet as he stared through his helmet at Spiculus, the cold stare as they looked at each other and backed up several feet away. His curved sword and shield at the ready. Spiculus and his gladius and round shield at the ready as they assumed the fighting stance.

“Without any further waiting!” yelled the announcer. Spiculus with his adrenaline pumping, his focus set as he listened to the announcer. “Fight!”

It was set. The battle was on, the goal was clear, fight, and win at all costs.

“I will kill you,” were Brutus’s only words to him as he took a few side steps. His focus was clearly on Spiculus.

The crowd was cheering at first but calmed down to gather every moment in detail of the arena fight. Spiculus was used to how the crowd operated. The moment he or his opponent would swing, the audience would begin to cheer or applaud as the blades swung.

Without any warning, Brutus charged at Spiculus. Using his momentum, he practically leaped forward at the other gladiator. It was an almost foolish mistake that Spiculus could capitalize on. His curved sword swung wide as Spiculus held his shield up and stabbed hard forward with his gladius.

The gladius, the perfect stabbing sword of the time period, was the preferred weapon of the Roman Empire. It was a modification of the Greek weapons. The Greeks beforehand used rows of men with large spears to form phalanxes to press forward. The long spears would deflect the arrows and stab the approaching enemy. The Romans would change this by throwing out the large spears and instead use large tower shields that they would carry into battle. In columns, the Romans would hold their shields together to form a massive metal wall that could stop practically everything. As they pressed forward, they would use the small gladius sword to stab the enemy. This simple tactic, burned through Europe to make the Roman Empire of what we know today.

But with all the knowledge of the Roman Empire and their current events, that was not what Spiculus was worrying about. He saw his gladius smack the edge of Brutus’s shield as his shield perfectly deflected the curved sword that bounced off his own shield.

As predicted, the audience cheered. They knew the battle was on as Brutus was nearly close to getting stabbed. Spiculus almost grinned, knowing that he was far closer to killing his opponent than Brutus ever did. He knew that his opponent, even if he won more battles than him, was a charger. Chargers could get the jump early, using their strength to win by pummeling their opponents to death; however, it left you wide open to counterattack, and something Spiculus was ready with his heavier defensive stance. He preferred the tactic that made Rome the victor of all battles; be the wall, let the shield be your wall and stab, stab, stab.

Spiculus remained quiet in his helmet as he simply and slowly pressed forward towards Brutus. Brutus flustered, charged again as he swung back at Spiculus. Spiculus used his gladius to deflect the blow of his sword as metal clashed with metal. Quickly he countered as he thrust his shield at him. The shield connected to Brutus’s helmet as he recoiled. Metal slammed against metal as it dazed him momentarily. Brutus himself was again taken by surprise as he quickly jumped back.

There was almost laughter from the audience as Spiculus had landed a blow on Brutus. Brutus had to get over with what had happened or quickly revise his battle strategy. Charging forward like a madman was getting him nowhere, and if he kept pressing forward like that, then he would most likely be dead in turn.

But on the other hand, Brutus had won more battles than Spiculus. His strategy had to work. Pressing forward is what made him win the battles. Battle after battle, his plan was to go balls to the wall and slash and slash till the enemy defenses fell. He had to do it. It was his destiny to go forward.