Free The Far Arena by Richard Ben Sapir Page A

They understood how much safer they would be with the door shut. Plutarch, his massive, fleshy head unmoving, stared them down.
    Screams came from the tunnel outside, and we knew the mobs were near. Suddenly a slave, laughing, tumbled into our cubicle.
    'That's him,' said Plutarch.
    'Lock it,' I said. And with their bodies, three slaves heaved at once, and the door shut with a solid crack.
    'More water,' ordered Plutarch, and slaves splashed the dry inside portion with its reinforced iron latticework. Three stiff iron bolts went into place, as the slaves lashing them into place got wet from the slaves watering the doors.
    A slave had been saved, and his joy caught on. There was grinning. There was confidence. We had saved a life from the mob. We might save all.
    A watered-down door would not stop a determined fire. But, it would delay the success of flames and stop initial attempts. The mob, having very little patience, would most likely pass on to a more quickly gratifying object. I ordered wine for the slaves, told a little joke, and felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Publius. He was demanding a slave be crucified. Not only did he not know the name of the slave, but he did not know the owner. Only that this slave had stopped him from reaching Domitian and - Publius had witnesses to this - had laid a hand on Publius' person.
    Now Publius was not necessarily for crucifixion, he said, and were it up to him he would have it outlawed. Yet, since there was crucifixion, this slave most assuredly deserved it if anyone ever deserved it. We all agreed that Publius was right and told him to take another cup of wine.
    'Of course, I was right,' said Publius.
    'My gold helmet,' said someone in a corner. During the panic, none of us had smelled him. But the lanista, who had so cloyingly assured me his secutor would only offer a performance, had apparently wedged himself in with me and my armoured slaves. It was a smart move. Perhaps his first.
    if we could open that door safely, I would throw you out'
    'That's all I have left after you killed my secutor.'
    'You lost. The helmet is mine,' I said, realizing I was still holding it. My hands were sticky. There was blood on the helmet. Not mine.
    'We had an agreement,' said the lanista. He wore a new toga, this one apparently quite fine. The family must ha ve paid him first. 'We had an agr eement.'
    'Which you and your secutor had no intention of keeping,' I said. 'What great fortune would have been on both of you had he slain me. You would have owned the greatest gladiator in the world, and he would have seen not only his freedom but great wealth in the future. You lost.'
    'Greekling,' he said, the worst thing a Roman can call another. He knew my mother was Greek.
    'How dare you, barely a knight, call the great Lucius Aurelius Eugenianus a "Greekling",' said Publius.
    "The helmet is mine,' I said.
    'Would you make a loan of it to me?' said the lanista.
    "These new families that dare to use the word "Greekling" are an abomination,' said Publius. 'And how laughable that it should be used on one adopted into the Aurelii by Lucius Aurelius himself, by whom Eugeni was personally given his names. Yes, Eugenianus is a Greek name, but Eugeni is the most Roman of them all,' said Publius.
    'I can repay it in your service,' said the lanista.
    'Your service is worthless, the proof of which lies outside on the sand, unless of course it has been torn apart.'
    The thundering mob had been launched in a single roar, and now the sounds were scattered into shrieks and moans as it turned on itself. For some reason, mobs raped, and one could hear the screams of the women which excited the assaulters more.
    'We, the Flavia,' said Publius, 'do not even allow the word "Greekling" to be used by our slaves.'
    'I am ruined,' said the lanista.
    'How can one as low as you be ruined ?' asked Publius.
    The lanista took a cup of wine, I had water, and we all waited for the mob to dissipate itself. Even now Publius wore a