Arena by John Jakes Page B

older, wearing a silken gown so transparent she might have left the gown at home. I took her to be his mistress, Poppaea Sabina. From the way others higher in the stands pointed at her, he was scandalizing the populace by flaunting her openly. No one honestly cared about it, though. This was the time of the games. Madness ruled.
    Quickly we completed our circuit of the Spine. We returned to a position near the mouth of the tunnel, from which we had emerged. Slaves removed the bodies of the sacrificial animals.
    Trumpets rang again. All the bars on the cages set into the lower walls squealed up at once.
    A hundred animals poured into the arena. Deer and wild boar with fierce tusks, bears and bulls, antelope and jackals, queer long-legged cranes and hyenas, a few leopards and even some domestic cattle. A moment later a dozen foxes were released, each with a burning firebrand lashed to its tail. The foxes ran yipping among the other animals, driving them to a frenzy.
    Fabius’ face gleamed with sweat. He gave us a last look.
    “For the school, lads. Break ranks! Kill them!”
    The mob howled and applauded as we raced down the Spine.
    Each man went his own way, picking a quarry. Two bestiarii running beside me dropped back to chase an antelope. I ran on, sighting a promising tangle of three wild boars being harried by a fox further down.
    The spear with its round shield weighed in my hand. Because the games usually commenced rather tamely, and only grew bloodier as the days went by, this first animal hunt was designed merely to whet the crowd’s appetite. No one could be seriously hurt slaying a dumb cow or a snapping hyena. Only the boars and an occasional bear added the spice of danger. Perhaps this was why Fabius outfitted me for the boars.
    A shadow fell across the sand directly ahead. To my right Xenophon appeared.
    He was puffing hard, bound on beating me to the trio of boars. They pitched their tusks at the fox circling them while the fox leaped wildly, driven mad by the fire singing its bushy tail.
    Xenophon grinned and ran harder.
    I ran hard as well, straining every muscle. A man stumbled in the sand as we passed. The wild pony he’d chased hoofed his skull into two pieces. The mob cheered wildly.
    Drawing ahead, Xenophon flung his spear at one of the boars with all his might.
    Instantly the three hairy tuskers swung round. Their small eyes burned with mindless hate.
    Snorting out of wet snouts, they charged.
    Xenophon dodged behind one of the statues decorating the base of the Spine. He left me to fight the trio alone. He was laughing.
    The Greek’s spear had furrowed a long wound down the backbone of one of the brutes, then skimmed off into the white sand. I took a hard grip on my own spear. I lifted it over my head and lashed down as the first boar neared.
    The point went true, into the boar’s throat and gut.
    Torn to pieces inside, the animal bit down on the shaft. I struggled to wrench it free.
    The second boar, bleeding from Xenophon’s throw, hurled itself over the first to tusk me. The round shield on the spear met the tusks with a clang. The animal fell back, tumbling over as I pulled the gory point from the throat of the first.
    The third boar backed off, pawing the sand for a new charge. Behind me, cheers went up. I paid no attention, intent on Xenophon and the two remaining animals.
    The boars lumbered forward side by side. I jumped over them both, racing on to where the Greek’s spear had fallen. Cursing, Xenophon broke from his safe nook behind the statue, guessing part of my intent.
    The thews in my legs ached as I ran, heedless of the trample and thud of the boars turning back, charging again, tusks aimed at my backside. I snatched up Xenophon’s spear, avoided his lunge Page 31

    that carried him by, then pivoted, a spear in each hand.
    Two wet snouts loomed, and four tearing tusks. I bit down on my lip and rammed both spears at once.
    The one in my right hand pierced the animal’s neck. The