Story: A Reminder of the Past
Title: A Reminder of the Past
Warnings: violence
Words: 901
Prompt: brigits_flame , February 2010, week 1, topic: Birds of a Feather
Retiarius ate another spoonful of the stew. Chickpeas and, since someone must have felt generous, some garlic and herbs. Not that it mattered much.
He ignored the din around him. Some of the others were talking to each other, some eating in silence. In the distance, Retiarius could hear shouts and the braying of the wild animals.
He never spoke much with anyone, even though he had acquired a basic knowledge of the language over time. From the conversations he had heard, Retiarius knew that some that had been there for a while were hoping to earn their freedom. He had no such hopes. The only thoughts he allowed himself were of surviving the next week, the next time he was sent into the arena.
When he had first been handed the net and the trident in the corridor leading to the arena, he had been certain he would die. How he had managed to throw the net over the lion’s head and kill him with his trident was fuzzy in his memory. Somehow, he had survived quite a few fights since then.
Setting his empty bowl down, Retiarius shot a nonchalant glance over at the door that Septimus, the large man responsible for them, had opened. Seeing that Septimus was only bringing in new men, Retiarius stared blankly at the wall on the other side of the room. Between fights, there was never much else to do.
“Baltasar?!”
Hearing this once familiar name, Retiarius looked up into a face that he had spent years despising.
“I am only Retiarius now,” he replied in the language he had thought he would never use again.
“A net fighter, eh? Well, I’m now known as Syrus,” His former competitor answered. “You’d think that with so many new slaves from our region, they would have to be more creative than just naming us after the new province.”
“I suppose so. Don’t get much news in here.”
“Were you sold here right after we lost the battle?”
“Yes, as soon as we arrived in Rome. And you?”
“I was a builder first. I worked on one of those large houses before my master decided to sell me, I think he was running out of money. The meals became more and more frugal before I was sent back to the slave market. But the work I did before! I never knew it was possible to have four rooms above each other before I came here! Imagine Lilith’s amazed look if she were to see them!”
“I hope she never does.”
Silence settled over the two men.
“Do you remember that little stream in the mountains? The one that flowed past the cave where we shepherds sometimes slept?” Syrus asked the following evening, while they were both eating their stew.
“Yes. Why?” Retiarius replied with a brief glance at Syrus.
“When I was working on that house on really hot days, I sometimes imagined holding my feet into it. There was a little place, only a few minutes from the cave, where the olive trees grew right next to the stream. I liked sitting there while the sheep were grazing, just listening to the birds and watching the small clouds in the sky. I always imagined taking Lilith up there one day.”
“I always hoped I might build her a small house,” Retiarus said quietly. “Perhaps by the path leaving the village towards the cedar forest. After getting a flock of sheep of my own, of course.”
Syrus chuckled. “You know, I always thought you’d be more likely to win her hand in marriage. You’re sensible and plan ahead, while I always waste my time on useless, unrealistic dreams. Not to mention that I never stop talking. No, I’m sure that she would have been yours in the end.”
There was an awkward moment before Syrus broke the silence in a quiet voice.
“You’ve been here for quite a while. What’s it like… in the arena?”
For a second, Retiarius saw a spark of fear in the other man’s eyes. He shrugged.
“Just make sure you don’t end up with your back against the wall. There are also trapdoors close to the entrance to the arena from which they sometimes release additional animals, so you should keep an eye on those. You’ll be fine.”
Syrus simply nodded.
Retiarius’ fight had been brief. He and the stocky man with a sword had circled each other, trying to determine each other’s weaknesses. Retiarius had swung his net, and although his opponent ducked aside, Retiarius could tell by the clumsy escape that he was inexperienced. After two more tries, Retiarius trapped the other man under his net and pulled him to the ground. Obeying the audience’s wishes, he stabbed the other with his trident without a second thought.
Returning to the corridor between the arena and the slaves’ quarters, he briefly clapped his hand onto Syrus’ shoulder. Syrus gave him a small smile.
“Well, I’d better be off then,” He said, before entering the arena at Septimus’ signal.
Back in his usual place, staring at the wall, Retiarius couldn’t help paying attention to the audience’s shouts and gasps and the roar of the animals. Finally, there was a particularly vicious snarl and the crowd gasped.
That evening, Retiarius silently took the bowl of food that was handed to him. Ignoring the others, he picked up his spoon. Chickpeas.
Warnings: violence
Words: 901
Prompt: brigits_flame , February 2010, week 1, topic: Birds of a Feather
Retiarius ate another spoonful of the stew. Chickpeas and, since someone must have felt generous, some garlic and herbs. Not that it mattered much.
He ignored the din around him. Some of the others were talking to each other, some eating in silence. In the distance, Retiarius could hear shouts and the braying of the wild animals.
He never spoke much with anyone, even though he had acquired a basic knowledge of the language over time. From the conversations he had heard, Retiarius knew that some that had been there for a while were hoping to earn their freedom. He had no such hopes. The only thoughts he allowed himself were of surviving the next week, the next time he was sent into the arena.
When he had first been handed the net and the trident in the corridor leading to the arena, he had been certain he would die. How he had managed to throw the net over the lion’s head and kill him with his trident was fuzzy in his memory. Somehow, he had survived quite a few fights since then.
Setting his empty bowl down, Retiarius shot a nonchalant glance over at the door that Septimus, the large man responsible for them, had opened. Seeing that Septimus was only bringing in new men, Retiarius stared blankly at the wall on the other side of the room. Between fights, there was never much else to do.
“Baltasar?!”
Hearing this once familiar name, Retiarius looked up into a face that he had spent years despising.
“I am only Retiarius now,” he replied in the language he had thought he would never use again.
“A net fighter, eh? Well, I’m now known as Syrus,” His former competitor answered. “You’d think that with so many new slaves from our region, they would have to be more creative than just naming us after the new province.”
“I suppose so. Don’t get much news in here.”
“Were you sold here right after we lost the battle?”
“Yes, as soon as we arrived in Rome. And you?”
“I was a builder first. I worked on one of those large houses before my master decided to sell me, I think he was running out of money. The meals became more and more frugal before I was sent back to the slave market. But the work I did before! I never knew it was possible to have four rooms above each other before I came here! Imagine Lilith’s amazed look if she were to see them!”
“I hope she never does.”
Silence settled over the two men.
“Do you remember that little stream in the mountains? The one that flowed past the cave where we shepherds sometimes slept?” Syrus asked the following evening, while they were both eating their stew.
“Yes. Why?” Retiarius replied with a brief glance at Syrus.
“When I was working on that house on really hot days, I sometimes imagined holding my feet into it. There was a little place, only a few minutes from the cave, where the olive trees grew right next to the stream. I liked sitting there while the sheep were grazing, just listening to the birds and watching the small clouds in the sky. I always imagined taking Lilith up there one day.”
“I always hoped I might build her a small house,” Retiarus said quietly. “Perhaps by the path leaving the village towards the cedar forest. After getting a flock of sheep of my own, of course.”
Syrus chuckled. “You know, I always thought you’d be more likely to win her hand in marriage. You’re sensible and plan ahead, while I always waste my time on useless, unrealistic dreams. Not to mention that I never stop talking. No, I’m sure that she would have been yours in the end.”
There was an awkward moment before Syrus broke the silence in a quiet voice.
“You’ve been here for quite a while. What’s it like… in the arena?”
For a second, Retiarius saw a spark of fear in the other man’s eyes. He shrugged.
“Just make sure you don’t end up with your back against the wall. There are also trapdoors close to the entrance to the arena from which they sometimes release additional animals, so you should keep an eye on those. You’ll be fine.”
Syrus simply nodded.
Retiarius’ fight had been brief. He and the stocky man with a sword had circled each other, trying to determine each other’s weaknesses. Retiarius had swung his net, and although his opponent ducked aside, Retiarius could tell by the clumsy escape that he was inexperienced. After two more tries, Retiarius trapped the other man under his net and pulled him to the ground. Obeying the audience’s wishes, he stabbed the other with his trident without a second thought.
Returning to the corridor between the arena and the slaves’ quarters, he briefly clapped his hand onto Syrus’ shoulder. Syrus gave him a small smile.
“Well, I’d better be off then,” He said, before entering the arena at Septimus’ signal.
Back in his usual place, staring at the wall, Retiarius couldn’t help paying attention to the audience’s shouts and gasps and the roar of the animals. Finally, there was a particularly vicious snarl and the crowd gasped.
That evening, Retiarius silently took the bowl of food that was handed to him. Ignoring the others, he picked up his spoon. Chickpeas.