Page 36 of Dominion
The gladiator gurgled one last time before his body fell face first into the sand, his huge broadsword falling last. Mateo stood over Boris’ body, the heat from the flames making him sweat even more as he panted from the exhaustion that was now taking over his limbs. He hadn’t even realized how much energy he’d spent fighting, as he was running on pure adrenaline during the battle.
Everything seemed so surreal as he stared at the blood oozing from Boris’ corpse. He’d won, he’d actually defeated one of their better gladiators. He wouldn’t go so far as to call Boris the best, Haraka was better, but still… this was a fight people did not think he’d win, and he had. There was hope.
Three slaves ran toward the ring of fire as some of the gladiators broke out in applause and cheers. The slaves began kicking sand over the lit oil, extinguishing the flames enough so Mateo could step out of the smoldering ring. Cervantes walked up to him and nodded once, then looked at Boris’ corpse. He took Mateo’s hand, raising it in victory.
“Your winner!” he yelled, and the gladiators applauded louder. Titus cheered as he clapped. Cervantes turned to Mateo. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d win. You are now a gladiator, and you will be branded as one.”
The branding ceremony wasn’t something Mateo had been looking forward to, but it was something he wanted only because it meant he’d survived his test and could move forward towards the road to reclaiming his freedom.
“Gratitude for your training, doctore,” Mateo said, giving the man his due credit.
“Good you listened,” Cervantes replied, then he turned to see the slaves removing Boris’ corpse off the sand. They carried the body inside the ludus. His broadsword was left on the sand, still with Mateo’s blood on the blade from when Boris had gotten in a few good licks. “It was an impressive victory and Boris died honorably.”
“He did, doctore,” Mateo agreed. But in the back of his mind, he was happy that it was Boris’ corpse being carried away instead of his, or worse yet, his injured body being carted off to a seedy brothel.
“Honor thy fallen brother!” Cervantes yelled, and the other gladiators shouted Boris’ name three times and the gladiator mantra of “fortune favored the gods and was favored by the gods”. Mateo had joined them in the chant.
“Mateo has proven himself tonight as one of you. He will now take the brand of our dominus,” Cervantes announced to the roar of the gladiators. He turned to Mateo. “Kneel and present arm.”
Mateo did as he was commanded, dropping to both knees and holding his right arm up, forearm exposed. He knew where the brand was going to go and knew it would hurt. Cervantes walked over to an iron bowl that was lit with fire and had the branding iron roasting inside. Using thick leather gloves, he reached for the iron, removing it from the fire. The insignia for the House of Rama was at the tip of the iron. An intricate shield with two swords crossing over the “R”.
Mateo took several deep breaths as he prepared himself for the searing pain he knew was coming. He also knew he’d have to recite the oath that went with the brand. A pledge of loyalty to a life he didn’t want nor had he asked for, but it was his destiny, as his fate would have it. So, to that, he would make the most of it. That was the real pledge he would make to himself tonight as he said the other words.
Cervantes held the smoking, red hot iron in one hand as he gripped Mateo’s wrist with the other. “Speak these words of oath after me with your answer.”
Mateo nodded. “Yes, doctore.”
“Do you promise to serve the House of Rama in glorious battle in the arena until the day of your death?”
He didn’t like the words, they implied he would never see freedom and it made him wonder how seven gladiators had broken the chains of slavery before him. Still, he had no choice in the matter and he repeated the words that felt hollow to him.
“I do promise to give my life to the House of Rama in glorious battle,” Mateo said.
“Do you promise to make each battle in the arena a victory, even unto death, to the House of Rama to elevate it?” Cervantes asked.
Mateo nodded. “Yes, doctore. I promise to make every victory, even in death, a glory to the House of Rama.”
“Do you promise to serve your dominus in any way he sees fit?”
Mateo forced himself not to groan as he hated having to serve Rama, period. But the dominus had already taken quite advantage of the fact that Mateo was a slave and he—his master.
“Yes, I promise to serve my dominus,” Mateo said.
“Do you promise to honor your brothers in this ludus and in the arena?”
Mateo nodded. “Yes, I promise to honor my gladiator brothers in the ludus and in the arena.”
“Do you promise to give all glory to the gods, as well as the House of Rama, keeping none for yourself?” Cervantes asked the final question Mateo must pledge to.
Glory to the gods? He’d met a god and saw very little reason to give him his glory. Although, perhaps he had to give Eloy his gratitude as he was the reason why Mateo was alive today.
Mateo nodded. “I will give all glory to the four celestial gods and to the House of Rama, keeping none for myself.”
With that, Cervantes was satisfied, as was Rama, who nodded, giving Cervantes permission to brand Mateo. He pressed the smoking brand to Mateo’s flesh, sizzling it as Mateo gritted his teeth together to keep from screaming in pain like he wanted to do. Finally, the iron was removed and the brand was now in place. Mateo looked at his burned skin and at the design forever emblazoned on it. He tried not to think of it as permanent, because he still had hope that one day… he would be free.
Part two continues in Destiny: Gods and Slaves.
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