Iona was still frowning.
“Wait until I get back, by then I will have a better idea of what the place is like and the options we might have.”
An hour later, Gaius came and found me.
“Come on, I have arranged a carriage to collect us in a while. You need to clean up and dress more appropriately,” he said, passing me some clothing rolled up in a cape.
I returned to my tent, telling him to remain outside.
“The last time we were in a tent together, things happened, and I’m not into that right now,” I said, he grinned and sat on a bench to wait.
The female garb consisted of a tunic that was a kind of vest, covered by a simple garment known as a stola. Stolae typically comprised two rectangular segments of cloth joined at the side by fibulae (brooches) and buttons in a manner allowing the garment to drape freely over the front. Over the stola, I wore the palla - a sort of shawl made of an oblong piece of material that could be worn as a coat, with or without hood, or, as I wore it, draped over the left shoulder, under the right arm, and then over the left arm.
I did not like it, any of it. My face must have registered my displeasure as soon as I left the tent and saw Gaius smirking at me.
The smirk didn’t last long, for as I had washed my hair and generally cleaned up. He opened his mouth to say something and then shook his head, obviously thinking better of it.
“Go on, say it! I look ridiculous.”
“No; just the opposite. You look fabulous.”
“Hmph. Come on, let’s get this over with!”
The carriage was simply a wooden box with a door on each side on two axles, pulled by one elderly cart horse, so we would break no land-speed records. Gaius joined me in the box and we sat opposite each other on the over-stuffed cushions. A coachman sat on the top of the box and drove the horse.
“This is undignified!” I complained.
“Do you really not understand how desirable you are?” he said.
“Hmph.”
He smiled.
“So, you do.”
I smiled.
“I am aware what you men believe to be attractive, and I am sure that I am altogether too big to fit in with the idea of what is beautiful.”
“Beauty in its classical sense is a million paces from what you are. But then I never did consider the classical views on beauty as being definitive. Yes, you are too big and too powerful, so weak men will always be threatened by you. But, they will always seek to dominate you because you represent something wholly unattainable; beauty and power together.”
“And fail.”
“Undoubtedly, but they might enjoy the challenge in trying.”
“Why have you never tried to bed me again?” I asked.
He coughed slightly as I caught him unawares.
“You’re always brutally blunt, aren’t you?” he asked, avoiding the question.
“Well?”
“I think I felt embarrassed and ashamed for failing to please you.”
“Who says you failed?”
“Me.”
“Well, then I suggest you treat yourself like a recruit who falls off the high beam on the assault course.”
“Huh?”
“Just get back on and try again!”
He regarded me for a few moments.
“Unless you don’t want to, that is?”
“You know I do.”
“Then stop pissing about and come see me tonight.”
I changed the subject and asked him about the circus.
“The Circus Maximus is on the level ground of the Valley of Murcia (Vallis Murcia), between Rome’s Aventine and Palatine Hills. Back in the old days, the valley would have been rich agricultural land, prone to flooding from the river Tiber and the stream which divided the valley. They say that the stream was bridged quite early on, at the two points where the track had to cross it, and the earliest races would have been held within the farmland with nothing more than turning posts, banks where spectators could sit, and some shrines and sacred spots.”
“So, it’s grown a bit since then?”
“Oh yes. One emperor built a palace next door so he could watch the games without leaving the comfort of his own home, but being a wooden structure, it’s burned down several times. Some of it is damaged right now, as there was a fire quite recently. There’s a refit planned. I think the emperor Trajan wants to rebuild it out of stone.”
“That’ll be expensive. How big is it?”
“I’m not sure, around six hundred and fifty paces long, by one hundred and twenty wide, I think. I could be wrong.”
“Can a lot of people view the games?”
“Oh yes, they say that over one hundred and fifty thousand people can get in there at any one time.”
Indeed, when we got there, I found a true wonder of Roman architecture and engineering.
Yes, there was some obvious fire damage that had been repaired to fit the purpose, but it was still an impressive stadium that would serve well two thousand years on.
The carriage stopped and we alighted, with Gaius helping me down as if I were some helpless female.
The light sandals he made me wear were weird on my feet; it was almost like going barefoot, so I had to walk carefully.
We walked to the main entrance, to find it closed. A small door was to the left, which Gaius ventured to enquire whether he could show me around. A few sesterces changed hands and the grubby caretaker let us in with a lewd grin.
“What did you tell him?” I asked.
“I alluded to the fact you wanted to have sex in one of the gladiators’ cells. I heard it’s quite popular amongst the high-born women.”
“Interesting,” I said, and gave him an equally lewd grin back. I wasn’t interested in the cells, though, and made for the arena.
It was as big as Gaius had told me, with an island in the middle. The track was of sand, and in places one could see dark splodges where obviously blood had been spilled in the past.
Against the outer walls, sand was piled in banks, ready to be spread over the surface at each change of event. I walked around the track, trying to get a germ of a plan.
“So, how will they play it?” I asked.
“The guards will enter from that gate, carry the golden wreath around the track so everyone can get a glimpse of it, and then take up post up in front of the Emperor’s box at that end. The wreath will be placed on a pedestal and will be guarded by at least two men. The remainder will deploy in a defensive semi-circle around them to form a wall of shields. I tell you, it won’t be easy.”
“How many men?”
“One century, so up to eighty men.”
I nodded as we walked up to the section where it would all happen.
Unlike the other end, which was a simple curve with a normal stand surrounding it; this end had a flat facia of a building looking out onto the entire length. The building here was not tiered so that spectators could seat and watch. This building was higher, with at least four stories. The box was simply a balcony on the third floor (fourth for US readers). This was where the VIP/emperor and his party would be seated.
I regarded the flat surface of the building. Like all roman buildings, it was not plain, but was adorned with pillars, columns and carved features. The ground floor was bereft of feature, save one plain wooden door to one side. The wall here was rendered with cement/plaster and coloured the same colour as the sand. I walked up close and gauged the height and the best way to climb the outside of the building. It was feasible, as long as no guard wanted to stab me in the back with a long, sharp pointy thing as I did so.
I stood at the bottom and looked around. Gaius watched me as I sifted the sand through my fingers. I walked over to the nearest pile of sand that lay up against the wall directly beneath the balcony. It was a good place to store it, as every time a chariot came around the corner, the sand would be strewn by the wheels and hooves away from the track, so after the race, slaves could be sent out with shovels and brushes to repair the track.