The Beast of Verona: Book I of the Decimus Trilogy Page 5

  They were almost in the same exact spot as when they met earlier this morning. The evening sun was making its slow descent through the western sky by now.

  Marina took a breath and straightened herself, standing a few steps above him so they were nearly at eye level with each other. He couldn’t help but admire her simple Italian beauty. He had admired it all morning while in the gladiator exhibit. When she left, he had to take another go around the room just to refresh himself because she had been so unwittingly distracting.

  Every chance he got, he would gaze at her deep, chocolate colored eyes, so sweet and jovial when they looked up at him behind dark eyelashes.

  “I just wanted to say thank you for visiting the museum today.”

  Howard felt his eyebrows twitch downward involuntarily at the peculiar statement. She ran out all this way just to say “thanks for coming”?

  “You’re welcome. I enjoyed looking at the exhibits.”

  Marina finally caught her breath and her arm gestured towards some unknown place behind him. “I was just thinking, I’ve got some new books on gladiators at my apartment if you’d like to stop by and take a look through them. They may have some facts that might interest you.”

  Howard blinked at the invitation. She was invited him to her apartment to look at research books? Did Italians do this often for people they barely knew? Marina didn’t even know exactly where he was from and she was willing to show him where she lived in Rome?

  At first, he thought to turn it down for propriety’s sake. But then the nagging need in the back of his mind to get this quest over with told him otherwise.

  “When?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Let’s say six o’clock tonight?”

  Howard hissed at the ill timing. Tonight was nowhere near agreeable. He could already feel the pressing need to get out of town. “Can we make it four o’clock?” He was well aware that was only in an hour’s time, but if he flipped through the books quickly, he could be out of there and out of town just in time.

  Marina grimaced. “I don’t get off work until five. You can’t do it tonight?”

  How could Howard explain to her? He shook his head. “I’ve got this thing I have to do.”

  “How about tomorrow evening? Would that work?”

  Howard looked out towards the street. He had planned to leave the city in search of another museum that would yield more information. But he supposed that one more day couldn’t hurt, especially if it meant the difference between finding Decimus and searching for another week.

  “Tomorrow would work much better,” he replied, looking back to her, snagging on her narrow dark eyes, half hidden behind a pair of glasses.

  She grinned, showing him her perfectly straight white teeth and nodded excitedly. “Great. Let me give you my number and address.”

  It didn’t surprise Howard when she pulled out a piece of scratch paper and pen from her back pocket. In fact, he smirked as she wrote down her information and handed it to him. Just from what he gathered about her character, he suspected that she wouldn’t be caught dead without a notepad and writing utensil. She was nerdy, but in a good way, and beautiful. It was such a clash of stereotypes that he found refreshing.

  “If your plans change, let me know,” she said, her sweet smile unwavering. He could almost taste her giddiness. Did she have no life that a visit from a stranger was something to look forward to?

  Howard glanced at the scrawled handwriting and then folded up the paper to stick in his jeans pocket. “Grazie. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

  Marina was the first to turn away and march back up the steps to the library. Howard, to his disbelief, caught himself watching the swaying rhythm of her hips as she walked away. With a sharp shake of his head, he turned and continued onto the streets of Rome. He still had one more place to visit before finding a place to stay for the night.

  Ludus Gladiatorium, Verona 71 AD

  The iron shackles bit into Decimus’s ankles and wrists as he made his way slowly up the stairs that led from the underground to the training field. Guards accompanied him on all sides, their swords at the ready. They learned not to waste time in drawing their weapons if Decimus should retaliate against them.

  When he emerged from his prison, the sun was nearly blinding. His sight quickly adjusted, but he didn’t need to see his fellow gladiators to know that every pair of eyes were locked upon him.

  The chain links clinked against each other with each step, mixed with the shifting of sand beneath his feet. Even though his imprisonment was debasing, Decimus walked tall towards the palus. They all knew that Decimus was a force to be reckoned with and despite the bitterness in his soul he was determined to keep up the pretense.

  Beside the palus, a slave was waiting on hand with a barrel full of wooden practice swords. The guards surrounded the palus, slave and Decimus. One approached to unshackle his wrists. Decimus shot him a forbidding glare as the soldier slinked away to reform the perimeter.

  Taking one of the wooden swords, he began his usual training, repeating the same combination of techniques that he’d been practicing for years. Two long years in this place. Two long years of slavery, chains, cages and guards. Two long years as a gladiator in this wretched city.

  His blows came swifter, harder; notching dents into the log that was suspended from the wooden frame. The palus was riddled with his handiwork. He’d lost count of how many logs he had splintered during his stay at the ludus.

  He knew the techniques so well he could perform them in his sleep. His dreams were filled with combat, battle, carnage and blood, only to wake up and live it all again.

  In the first few months, he’d worn down a spot in the stone wall of his cell where he tried to bash his skull to bits, driven mad by the lunacy of it all. He remembered when Marcus was ready to pull his hair out at the sight of Decimus’s face completely covered in his own blood.

  But as time went on, Decimus grew insensitive to it. He let the beast have control. The beast didn’t care about the men he was ordered to kill. The beast didn’t care that they were innocent. The beast didn’t care about the flesh, blood and shattered bones of its enemies. The beast could handle such atrocities better than Decimus could. Each battle, he let the beast slip into his consciousness and control his actions to a certain degree. It was simply easier.

  The wooden handle cracked in half in Decimus’s grasp. In the heat of remembering the countless battles, he had struck the palus too hard. The splintered blade end of the sword went flying towards a skittish guard while Decimus held the handled end. The guard nearly cried out in surprise and struck at it with his own sword. The others laughed at his folly, but Decimus was not amused. The man was jumpy, nervous to be in the gladiator’s presence. He had a right to be scared, but he would soon learn that unless he got in Decimus’s way, the guard was in no danger.

  He tossed the useless handle to the side and reached for the new sword that the rangy slave offered to him.

  Letting his senses roam, he realized that many of the other gladiators had retreated back to their barracks, no longer interested in training. That suited him fine. He didn’t need everyone staring at him anyway.

  He could hear the sounds of free society just outside the walls of the ludus and in the city. Women and children bustling in the streets on the way to market, politicians and wealthy men talking about the latest news from Rome.

  All manner of scents assaulted his nostrils that were typical in the city air. He could smell the perfumes and body odors of the citizens passing by, smoke from fires in the nearby homes, food cooking over those fires and the delectable aromas that followed.

  The sword cracked once more and he sighed in frustration. He knew he needed to focus and control his strength. Battling in the arena against a man that wasn’t ready to die, he couldn’t afford a careless slip. If he swung too hard and sent the gladiator flying into the arena walls, his secret would be revealed.

  Even though Marcus threatene
d exposure daily, Decimus knew that the only way the truth would ever be disclosed was through his own mistakes.

  And as if the sheer thought had summoned him, Decimus detected Marcus’s scent approaching. He took a new sword and continued his practice unabated.

  Marcus silently passed between two guards to approach Decimus. It would have been so easy to run him through with the sword in his hands. There would be no one to really stop him. What could the guards do to a man who was nearly invincible?

  Instead, Decimus ignored him. The heavy thud of wood colliding with wood was the only sound between them before Marcus reached out and grabbed Decimus’s wrist to correct the angle for the technique. He let the lanista make his critique and then carried on without a word.

  Several blows were executed before Marcus spoke. “You have been summoned this evening,” he said.

  Decimus’s heart sank into his stomach until he felt he would retch. He paused and lowered the sword for a moment to gather his senses again.

  “Who this time?” the gladiator asked. “Another politician?”

  Decimus knew that being summoned meant he would be taken into the home of a wealthy citizen. The lanista was paid to provide brutal entertainment for parties and banquets held all over Verona. Another battle, but not in the arena. Instead, it was in a person’s home. He battled other gladiators, but sometimes he was called on to execute a disorderly slave.

  The memory of the last engagement flashed in his mind. A young man had been caught with the patron’s wife. Decimus was told to show no mercy, but all he could see was the lack of guilt in the boy’s eyes and the fear that he would meet an unjust end. Decimus swallowed back the vile that burned his throat and stared at the beaten palus.

  “Yes, it’s another politician,” Marcus replied.

  “Who will I fight?”

  Marcus let out a heavy breath. “As I was told, you will fight no one. You will be there as a guest, not an entertainer.”

  Decimus detected no mockery or fallacy in him. He turned to regard his lanista with disbelief.

  Welcomed into a citizen’s home with no further duty but to be a guest at some party? This must be a joke. Perhaps Marcus had finally devised a plan to get rid of Decimus once and for all and he will be assassinated outside the ludus that evening.

  Or was this summons legitimate? Did someone see him in the arena and think that he would be open to such an invitation? Then he remembered the young girl who had visited him nearly a week ago. No one had ever come to visit him in the whole two years he had been a gladiator. A visitor and a friendly summons so close together? It simply couldn’t be possible.

  Decimus wiped his face and neck with his palm, pushing back the confusion and anticipation he felt. It wouldn’t happen. The beast inside was growing restless already and it was just a few hours into the morning.

  “Tonight is not good for me. Tell them I must decline.” Decimus turned back to the palus and inflicted a few more dents into its bark.

  “I told them you would come and you will.” Marcus’s tone rose to the typical level of mixed annoyance with an attempt at authoritative.

  Decimus handed his sword to the slave to hold for the moment as he stepped closer to Marcus. He knew better than to approach his lanista with so obvious a weapon. Some of the soldiers tensed, ready to apprehend the gladiator should he make a false move.

  He leaned in close, being sure that only Marcus could hear his breathy whispers. “I can feel the change. Tonight, it will come. I can’t go.”

  Marcus grumbled and thought for a moment with Decimus’s stare fixed solidly upon him.

  “I will send word that you can not stay after dark. It will have to be an early dinner.” Marcus shook his head pathetically. “This is a very important person. I can’t just deny him your presence. Will this compromise satisfy you?”

  Decimus didn’t like the idea of going out at all. The beast was volatile. One unsettling thing and everything could unravel before its time. It was safer in the cell where he could be contained. The beast craved fresh air and the feel of the forest. If it were permitted such a luxury, there would be no stopping it. Not even Decimus could withstand the beckoning of freedom.

  “I suppose you will have guards accompany me?”

  Marcus snorted a laugh. “I would never let you go anywhere without at least one.”

  “They need to be close at all times…” Decimus’s gaze fell. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”

  Marcus rolled his eyes. “After these two years, I still don’t understand you, Lupus.” With that, he walked away past the guards.

  Decimus watched him leave and felt his shoulder slump. Of course Marcus would never understand. He doubted than anyone ever truly would. He was not a monster. Not completely.

  6

  Rome Italy, 2015

  Howard shoved his hands into his jean pockets and continued along the sidewalk, drawing closer to the heart of the city. Cars sped past him on the narrow streets and he had to dodge his way past pedestrians and tourists alike. For such an ancient city, it seemed restless.

  Towering apartment buildings shielded him from the early evening sun. He was traveling in the wrong direction if he was in search of a place for the night. The museum was farther on the south outskirts of the town, while his new destination was north. There was still one spot he needed to see.

  A biker zipped past him, nearly knocking him sideways. The man turned and shouted back something obscene in Italian, but Howard just waved him off.

  There were aspects of the city that charmed him, while other parts he could do without. He certainly wouldn’t want to live here. Too cramped, too crowded, too many people and not enough space for all of them.

  Rome made him miss home. It was quiet there and slow, far away from the big cities and deep in the countryside. It was safer there and more convenient. Howard still couldn’t understand how some people like him could be lured into living in places like New York or Boston. He knew them and heard their struggles, but they still wouldn’t be tempted to live out in the mountains. They refused to hide from society like cowards. But Howard and his family weren’t cowards. They were smart and had sense enough to stay close to the wilderness.

  Howard took a left and found himself on the Via di San Giovanni. Ahead, he could see the Roman colosseum bathed in the warm glow of the evening light. He could only see it partially from the street view, but he was not interested in the arena.

  He walked a little farther, past closed down shops covered in graffiti and a construction site to find himself standing beside a fenced in archeological site known as the Ludus Magnus. The site was several feet below the street level, dug out years ago to reveal a portion of what remained of the gladiator school in Rome.

  Howard slowed himself to a stop and leaned his arms against the railing, lacing his fingers together as if to pray to the ancient landmark. Centuries ago, this place housed troops of gladiators and provided a place for them to rest, eat and train for the games held at the colosseum not too far away. Now, there was nothing but grass, weeds and the partially crumbled walls. The shell of the building was still there, but the occupants were long gone.

  Howard took a moment to bask in the spirit of the place. He could hear the crowds on the streets and inside the massive arena just to his left, but this place was quiet, nearly deserted.

  For a wild moment, Howard felt like this was a piece of home. The grass that blanketed the floor of the site was rich and smelt just like the acres of land that his house was nestled upon. The stone was similar to that of the other ancient landmarks in Italy that he had visited so far, but there was a certain aura about this place. As if he had found an abandoned village where all the citizens had been slain in cold blood and all that was left were the ghosts. This place felt haunted indeed.

  Across the site, he saw a family of tourists pause on their way to the colosseum to snap photos of the former gladiator school. He wondered if they even knew what they were loo
king at or if they simply saw the ruins and thought them important or special in some way. They didn’t linger long before turning and hurrying to the colosseum, mentioning something about the last tour of the day.

  Within the same view, Howard spotted a young couple embracing one another on the sidewalk. He could hear their whispers of endearment that were meant to be private and he felt the all too familiar ache in his chest.

  Yes, home was quiet and the perfect place for solitude. But it was lonely on that stretch of land by himself. Daily visits from his family were fine, but he had no one to hold, like that young man held his lover.

  Howard sighed and willed away the pain before looking back to the ruins. He was not in Rome to lament over the choices he had made. He was in Rome to learn, to discover.

  He tried to imagine the ludus like it had been in the glory days of the empire, full of gladiators and their trainers. He closed his eyes. He could hear the shouting and daily sounds, smell the sweat and dirt as the men battled one another in preparation for the shows in the colosseum. He tried to imagine that Decimus was amongst them. Howard knew that Decimus did not come to the Ludus Magnus. He served in Verona, not Rome. But he imagined their schools were alike.

  Was he popular with the other gladiators? Hated? Loved? Did he train with them or alone? What did he do when he wasn’t training? How, being trapped in the ludus was he able to leave once a month for the night? Howard didn’t know what the landscape of Verona was like in the first century of the Roman Empire but if the forests were as far away as they were today, he could understand why Decimus would have some trouble in escaping.

  He had to have someone who knew his routine, someone who understood who and what he was so they could hide him when the time came. Was Decimus wild and unruly? Or did he have a mentor that taught him how to control his inner beast? It was then that Howard wondered if Decimus indulged the beast for the sake of the games. Did he become a savage in the arena to thrill the crowds? Or did he conceal it as Howard and many others like him did in modern times?