The Trident

"Where did you get the idea for the Bridge?" Kaeso had asked, leaning back in his office chair, his feet on his desk. Legeia traced the hard muscles of Gaius' thigh with long fingernails as they sat opposite Kaeso on a thick-padded couch.

"From when Emperor Claudius staged a mock battle on a pontoon bridge on Fucine Lake."

Kaeso nodded. "Ah, yes. Five thousand men on each side, I believe. Prisoners of war, jailbirds and slaves. It is said all who showed courage were given their freedom at the end."

"Yes. My bridge is only three feet wide though, whereas theirs was a hundred yards at the middle. Also, mine is twenty feet high and over ground, not water."

"It's hard enough to fight one opponent. How do you plan on defeating two?"

"I haven't a clue," Gaius said, grinning. "I've never fought like this before."

"No one has as far as I know," Kaeso said. Your type of fighter, the retiarius, has only been in existence since the fifties, and never fought against two secutors on a bridge."

"That's what will draw the crowds: novelty," Legeia said. They always want something more spectacular, more thrilling."

"Yes, and willing to pay more for it. We'll make a bundle---if you can pull it off." Kaeso added quietly.

A sudden gasp of amazement resounded through the arena as the overflow crowd of spectators saw a giant, golden trident arise, as if by magic, from a concealed trapdoor in the arena floor. At the same time, hundreds of young girls dressed as priestesses, in long white gowns and white fillets, proceeded by a lictor, marched, single file, from an opening in the arena wall with slow skipping steps. Some blew on golden conch shells. Others struck cymbals and danced with chimes attached to their sandals as thousands of multi-colored doves fluttered from the prongs of the trident, darkening the arena as they soared up into the sky.

The spectators were ecstatic, rising to their feet and thunderously chanting "Thanatos! Thanatos! Thanatos!"

Mucia Faustina rose to her feet joining the massive throng in their feverish exclamations. On tiptoes, she glanced toward the Gate of Life frantic to catch a glimse of her hero where he would soon emerge.

The lictor stopped the faux priestesses in front of the podium, where Domitian sat prominently among his retinue, and raised his fasces in tribute.

"How greatly they love you, my Emperor," the Empress, Domitia Longina whispered in his ear.

"Not me, my Empress, but Thanatos. Me they hate, considering me a tyrant, and after all I've done for them."

"History will remark that you were the greatest of the great. As the songs of Nero live on in their hearts so will your deeds, my Lord."

Gaius climbed onto the golden chariot. An attendant tied the reins around his waist and handed him his trident. When the procession of priestesses had filed out of the arena, trumpets sounded and the iron gate, with a loud clang, slid open.

Gaius laid on the whip. The Africans lunged from the darkened tunnel into the brilliant sunlight pulling the heavy, ornamental chariot as easily as if it were a stripped-down racing model. The crowd was on its feet. Loud cheers drowned out the orchestra's dramatic capo. Gaius raced the horses around and around the arena waving his trident. Overhead, sailors majestically drew off the golden tarp from the Bridge of Death with a complicated system of rigging, furling it on masts set in the crown.

As the full extent of the bridge was revealed a startled cry came from the crowd. There were two ramps, at either end, leading up to the twenty-foot high structure, but it was what was beneath that caused the awed gasps. Positioned ominously were sharpened stakes as tall as a man. The message was gruesomely clear: anyone falling from the bridge would be instantly, and hideously, impaled.

All eyes turned on Gaius, with feverish intensity, as he jumped from the golden chariot and strode up one of the ramps armed with trident and net.

From the Gate of Life a troupe of dancers came forth beating their hands on small frame drums, stretched with bull's hide and ringed with metal jingles. Following the dull flat sounds were marching Nubians beating on hourglass-shaped shields with curved sticks. And behind them came the two secutors accompanied by their retainers and referees.

Gaius stood at the top of the ramp by a pyramid stack of apple-sized stones. His dagger was stuck in his belt with the lead-weighted net draped over his left shoulder between head and galerus, the deadly trident, razor-sharp prongs pointed down, in his right hand.

As the procession of dancers and marchers disappeared through an exit, the two secutors took up positions at the base of the ramps while being handed their helmets, swords and shields by their retainers. Archers lined up on the crown of the amphitheater ready to loose a barrage of arrows should any of the combatants attempt to retreat once combat was initiated.

Trumpets blared.

From the imperial box Domitian raised his arm, pausing for dramatic effect, then made a swiping motion downward.

The referees pounded their staffs on the ground, shouting for the secutors to attack.

Silence reigned over the arena as they started up the ramps at opposite ends of the bridge. A tumultuous roar rended upwards as Gaius, laid down the trident and picked up a stone hurling it down at the tall German who blocked it with his shield.

Gaius knew, when fighting multiple opponents, one must attack the closest first and as quickly as possible. He picked up a stone in either hand. Peering over his shoulder, he saw that the Spaniard had not yet reached the top of his ramp. He couldn't allow himself to be trapped between both fighters in close combat or he would be done for.

He stared down at the German who had advanced halfway up the ramp. Carefully concealed behind his shield, he could easily block any stone being cast down, but Gaius had the advantage of being ambidextrous and could throw unerringly with either hand. He flung the first stone at the eye holes in the helmet just above the rim of the shield.

Predictably, the German raised his shield and deflected the stone, which bounced off with a whack. But having raised his shield he left his bare feet exposed. With lightning reflexes Gaius hurled the second stone crushing the man's right foot with a bloody splatter. Giving off an anguished cry, the German dropped to his knees, wavering behind his shield.

Gaius quickly kicked the remaining stones off the bridge, picked up his trident left-handed and turned to meet the Spaniard, who had reached the top of his ramp.

As they came together in the middle of the bridge, Gaius began ramming the trident at the Spaniard's helmet, while hurling the heavy net at his bare feet in an attempt to exhaust him by forcing him to continually raise and lower the heavy shield.

He looked back to see if the German had stepped up onto the bridge. He had to defeat the Spaniard before that happened or he would be trapped between the two. But glancing back had been a mistake. Gaius felt a sharp, stinging pain in his left thigh. The Spaniard had got him with the point of his sword. Stepping back he thrust his trident up piercing the Spaniard's hand unprotected by his manica, the mental sleeve protecting his sword arm.

The crowd was on its feet thirsty for blood.

Gaius put all the strength he had behind the thrust. The Spaniard lifted, then wobbled on his feet, desperately trying to maintain his balance.

Raising his right foot Gaius shoved it hard against the secutor's shield. Toppling over, the Spaniard spun off the edge of the bridge, with a frantic scrambling motion, screaming as he descended onto the sharp stakes below--taking the trident with him.

The crowd howled a unified warning.

Gaius turned.

The German was hobbling toward him, leaving a bloody trail behind.

Gaius readied his net. Without his trident, he would have to depend on it to defeat the German. Blood streamed from his wound. He wavered--fighting back nausea and dizziness, eyes unfocused--then flung the lead weighted net against the German's shield making a loud clattering sound.

The German rocked back, unintentionally placing his full weight on his damaged foot. Agonized, he lifted the foot and hopped back.

Gaius swung the net into a circle above his head and hurled it over the distracted secutor enveloping him in the coarse netting. Gathering his fading strength for one last effort, Gaius jerked on the net as he toppled off the edge of the bridge. The German, unable to free himself, sailed over Gaius and landed on the stakes below.

Clutching to the bridge, Gaius glanced down, dangling precariously over the impaled secutor, and heard his cries of agony as he slowly died, his ruptured body penetrated by multiple bloody stakes.

The screams of the crowd became deafening.

Chapter XV

Messalina was naked as she entered the bedroom in one of the palace's sunroom overlooking a lush garden. Seen through wide windows billowy clouds hung from a brilliantly blue sky.

"You're looking better," she said, sitting on the bed close enough to feel the heat of his body.

Gaius glanced at his bandaged leg, then let his eyes roam over her naked body.

She grinned. "And from that look in your eyes I'd say you're feeling a lot better, too."

"Some what."

From a distance the shout of a large crowd resounded.

"Domitian's purple and golds are racing in the Circus," she said gaily. "If you feel up to it we could go on the balcony and watch...or..." she smiled seductively, "we could do something else more interesting, perhaps?"

She pulled the plum colored sheet off, that partially covered his nude body, letting her eyes drink in the hard muscles of his chest and stomach, then pushing up his semi-erect cock she touched her lips to it. She felt him instantly stiffen and went down as far as she could, then drew back, drawing out the foreskin. Holding the cock against his belly, she licked rapidly up and down making the sack tighten around his balls.

She felt his hand grip a mass of her hair and pull. It hurt, but she liked the pain. She straddled his hips, her palms pressed against his chest and eased her shaved cunt down on his thick cock. Again more delicious pain as it slowly inched up into her tight belly. She shuddered uncontrollably, settling on the base.

His hand pulled her head down, lips meeting. She eased open her mouth giving in to the wet frantic search of his tongue. Twisting her head back, he bit the soft perfumed flesh of her throat. His mouth sought out her nipples, swelling them, teeth bruising them, causing tingling sensations to race wildly through her firm lithe body.

He thrust up his hips, entering her fully. Worlds and dimensions swirled in a dizzying sea of unbridled animal lust. Each violent thrust of his cock brought her closer and closer to the cessation of burning need.

Then the ecstasy of shuddering release engulfed her. For a long time she lay in a semi-stupor on his body, feeling his cock thick and hard within her, relishing the feel and warmth of his flesh.

When she awoke he was gone from the bed. A freedman, one of Parthenius' spies, came into the room and whispered into her ear.

Hurriedly, slipping on a diaphanous robe, she found Gaius on the balcony sitting propped up on a silver framed couch which was richly covered in a rose-colored silk damask.

The sun was no longer high in the blushing sky but had settled farther to the west. The races in the Circus were over. Thousands of spectators were filing out of the exits. Quiet returned slowly to the palace grounds, the twitter of birds and the cascading sound of fountains coming to the fore.

She sat down at the foot of the couch and gripped his good leg firmly.

"The last time we talked, I asked if you would be willing to end the life of a tyrant. You were not inclined to such an action. But I have just learned of something that may change your mind."

"And what is that?" Gaius asked, narrowing his eyes.

Messalina drew in a breath. "Remember that scrawny slave you were so taken with, Justina?"

Gaius' face became stern. He nodded.

"I've just learned that she is in the Carcer awaiting trial for killing her pimp, a German by the name of Vassus."

Gaius started up from his pillows and turned to a slave standing off at a discrete distance "Get me my tunic."

The slave scurried off.

"What are you going to do?"

"Get her out."

"You're not well enough."

"I'm well enough."

"There's more," she said, laying her hand on his shoulder. "Domitian raped and tortured her."

Gaius said nothing as the slave returned and helped him dress, then after dismissing him Gaius touched the hilt of his dagger. "That for your tyrant."

*

At the foot of the Capitoline Hill, between the Curia and the Temple of Concord, Damis leaned against one of the outside square columns at the front of the Carcer watching the coming sunset and the merchants making ready to close up for the evening.

As he did so he saw an imperial litter of purple and gold approaching. When it stopped in front of him a young man with golden hair emerged stumbling and would have fallen had not Damis grabbed him.

"Hold up, amicus. Steady yourself."

Gaius hung his head for a moment, then looked up at Damis. "You have a prisoner named Justina. I've come to see her."

"I'm not a jailer, amicus. I'm companion to the philosopher Apollonius of Tyana who is imprisoned in the Carcer. But by chance I know of whom you speak. My master has taken her under his wing to protect her from the rougher sort."

"Then your master is going to profit greatly. I will see to it."

"My master never seeks earthly rewards but acts for the good of all mankind without recompense. As a youth he gave up his inheritance to pursue a godly life."

"And the Carcer is his reward?"

"Those who stand against tyranny must be prepared to accept an ill fate if necessary. But this life cannot be the end. If it were then there would be no hope."

"Hope cost nothing, and you get what you pay for it."

*

The jailer, a fat man with a protruding lower lip, unlocked the iron door to the Carcer and led them in. Justina lay in the arms of Apollonius, unmoving, her blue eyes unfocused.

Gaius stooped down and touched her cheek.

He spoke softly, but she gave no sign of hearing. Her head lay limply against the old philosopher's shoulder.

"She has been through more than a human being should have been."

Gaius studied the face of the old philosopher with his ragged long hair and beard, then stood up, confronting the fat jailor. "A thousand sestertii, and I carry her out of here."

The jailer grunted and held out his pudgy hand into which Gaius placed ten gold coins. "No problem, gladiator. I'll say she died. Men and women do everyday. We dump their bodies beyond the wall. No one will ever know or care."

"Let Damis carry her for you, young man," Apollonius said. "Where will you go?"

"I have a farm southwest of the Alban Hills."

"Then Damis will go with you. I have versed him well in the science of medicine. When my trial is over, in a few weeks, I will join you and we will see that your young lady recovers fully."

Damis nodded. "My master assures me that he will be acquitted, and he is never wrong."

*

Epilogue

"...senseless stories, idle tales, dreams, whimsies, and no more." --Seneca

Archeologist Dean Ackermann of Penn State took a cold one from the ice chest and popped it open. From the shade of the awning over the front of his tent he watched his hand picked team of grad students scraping and dusting near the rubbled remains of a first century farm house lying to the southwest of the Alban Hills.

Pretty Sue Lin caught his attention when he noticed her sudden animated brushing at something a foot down in a trench. Curious, he ventured out into the hot afternoon sunlight and moseyed over to her.

"What have we got, Sue?"

She held up a clay amulet with a trident engraved on the surface.

Ackermann adjusted his bi-focals and took it from her. "The trident, symbol of the god Janus," he muttered.

"There's an inscription on the back, Professor." She squinted up at him against the harsh sunlight, beads of sweat on her oval brown face.

Ackermann turned it over, licked his thumb and rubbed it against the faded surface.

"Justina loves Gaius," he said, translating the ancient Latin.

THE END

Note:

**According to Suetonius' Life of Domitian one of the emperor's assassins was a gladiator from the imperial school who thereafter disappears from the pages of history.