Page 14 of Dominion
Up until the moment when he was finally out there on the sands, he’d been going back and forth in his mind over whether or not he should give up and die to free himself of an uncertain hellish future or fight for whatever future he did have. It wasn’t until Haraka’s blade had clashed with his that his decision became final.
Haraka brought him into the waiting area where Cervantes was still shaking his head in bewilderment. Mateo was placed on the bench and he held his hand over the most severe wound he had, which was the wound in his abdomen.
“Never have I seen the gods bless one so low,” Cervantes said as he stood over Mateo.
“Neither have I,” said a voice from behind them, and the three men each turned to see Rama enter in through the second entrance. “Have Kodac see to him, make sure he does not die. Bathe him and feed him. I will stay behind with my other gladiators until you return.”
Cervantes nodded. “Yes, dominus.” He turned to Haraka. “Bring him.”
Haraka grunted in response and scooped up Mateo’s beaten and starved body, carrying it out of the arena and towards their carriage. While en route back to their home and the medicus, Cervantes applied what first aid he knew to stop the bleeding and help kill infection. Mateo could only lay still as the doctore tended to his wounds. The one thing he was grateful for, besides being alive still, was that he didn’t have to walk home.
When they finally arrived back at the ludus, he was carried from the carriage to another room inside the main house. He tried to take in his surroundings, but his vision was blurring in and out and he couldn’t make sense of the things he was seeing or hearing. He knew he was being placed on a surface that was the softest he’d felt since being kidnapped.
It didn’t take too much longer, not with this new comfort, for him to completely lose consciousness, and he welcomed it. When Mateo woke up, the room was dim and lit only by a few candles. When he attempted to sit up, the pain in his muscles and the sting of his wounds forced him to lie back down.
“Take it easy,” a sweet, female voice said, then she approached him and he could see who was talking. She was pretty, blonde, with gray eyes and soft, bow-shaped lips that made her look like a doll his sister once had. She didn’t look to be older than fifteen and the soft cadence of her voice was comforting as she spoke to him. “You suffered greatly in the arena and have many wounds. But are strong.”
“I… I can’t believe I still live,” Mateo said as he thought back to the moment in the arena when he’d seen his life flash before his eyes. Haraka was standing over him, blade raised high and poised to deliver the final blow until a bellowing voice called out to him over the hush of the crowd.
It was all coming back to him, and he was amazed that he’d been spared by a god. They really did give their blessings to those who they felt were worthy. But what made him more worthy than the two men who had died by his side? Why were they not spared their fate?
“Why was I spared?” he asked the young lady.
She shrugged. “No one knows. The gods rarely spare lives, and those are only of the gladiators. Never a slave like you or me.”
“Are gladiators not slaves, too?” Mateo asked.
The girl looked off to the side. “They are, but of the highest quality as they give their lives to the gods. Their sacrifices can elevate the house of their dominus, and their victories can save their cities if they continue to gain the gods’ favor. Today, you have done such.” She reached behind his head, raising it ever so slightly. “Here, drink. You need nourishment.”
Mateo greedily drank the broth the girl fed him, only slowing down when she forced him to pause between his gulps. He was so hungry that had he had the strength, he would have snatched the bowl from her and devoured every last drop. But, he was weak and needed her assistance, so he took small sips like she instructed until the broth was all gone. He licked his lips, trying to get every taste he could as it was the best thing he’d eaten in days.
“Your stomach may reject it, then it may not. We start with broth until you can take solids,” she explained. “Rest now.” She placed a cool cloth over his forehead, which Mateo relished as it seemed to soothe so many of his aliments. His stomach was still growling and he wanted more broth, but the girl had advised against it, lest he purge everything he’d eaten.
He took her advice and rested. Every once in a while, he’d wake up to the sound of men talking. The last time the voices woke him, he turned to see a gladiator sitting on one of the beds with whom he assumed was the medicus examining him.
“You are healing well,” the medicus said.
“When will I be able to take to the sands again?” the gladiator asked.
The medicus grumbled. “So eager to die, are you?”
“Eager to see this house raised in the eyes of the gods and to see myself blessed and freed, yes,” the gladiator said.
The medicus sighed. “Not for at least a month. Your injury was deep, too deep for such a quick recovery. You must give your body time to heal or you will see death the next time you take to the sands.”
To that, the gladiator groaned and frowned. “A month when I will be unable to train. A full month when I must miss the next Games.”
The medicus shrugged. “Next time, dodge your opponent’s blow.” He finished wrapping the wound and took a step back. “There. Now rest.”
The gladiator mumbled something else, though Mateo didn’t hear what he said, but by the chuckle coming from the medicus, apparently he had, and hadn’t taken any offense to it. The gladiator looked at Mateo and his frowned deepened.
“What makes you so special?” he asked.
Mateo didn’t bother to respond because he didn’t have an answer. He also didn’t want to take what felt like a baiting taunt, and with both of them injured, neither could risk coming to blows.
“Balls and cocks, Osiris, let the boy alone. Go rest now,” the medicus ordered, shooing the other man out of the room. He then turned his attention back to Mateo.
“We all would like to know what makes you so special that one of the most volatile gods saw fit to spare your life. Perhaps your life was not so worthless after all. Now, we just need to see just how much your life is worth,” a voice said, and Mateo recognized it as Rama’s.
