An Emperor’s Heart

By Bailey

Professor Katlin Moore stood surveying the ruins of Rome’s greatest triumph of technology and it’s greatest monument to decadence and depravity. The Flavian Amphitheater, known better as the Colosseum, was still intact enough, to make one marvel at the enormity of the construction. It was further known that not only were the spectators, some 50,000 at a time, entertained by fighting spectacles on the sand of the huge arena, but also naval battles were staged. This was not a small feat, but evidence had been found.

The Harvard professor had visited many of Rome’s ruins across Europe. She respected the technology and determination of the society that had lasted over 1,000 years. These Romans had indelibly changed the lives of millions of peoples all around the Mediterranean. They brought order and commerce to many peoples. For some they brought prosperity and law. For others they brought slavery and death. Yes, she admired their accomplishments, but she was not blind to the cost.

As one of Harvard’s most prominent teachers, she was given access to places that the general public was denied. She carried a camera and tape recorder to record her thoughts and capture certain ideas and scenery that would be analyzed later. Her guide and companion for the last two weeks, Dr. Rico Morelli, an archeologist from Rome’s Society of History, had been very helpful in pointing out many of the Colosseum’s important points. He was accommodating, but refused to allow her to go into the bowels of the ancient structure. He had reminded her that they had been explored years earlier, and the lower walls were considered unstable. Anything she wished to see could be seen from the safety of the catwalks that currently spanned the area from one side of the arena to the other. They were there as a courtesy to the archaeologists who were expected to visit later that week. They were closed to tourists.

The catwalks ran above the chambers that had been covered by wood planks in 80 AD when the structure was new. Those planks, long since rotted away, formed the floor of the giant arena and covered the multitude of rooms that housed animals, men, equipment, and the machinery that provided elevators as well as water channels that flooded the arena for the naval battles.

Although she could see most of the holding pens and the corridors that facilitated the movement of men and animals, she also knew that there were areas that had not been completely explored. She very much wanted to go down and see what might be there that the archeologists might have missed. Dr. Morelli had been adamant about that. She would not be allowed to enter the area below.

Rico Morelli watched, as his fellow scholar took pictures. Though she was at least ten years his senior, she was still attractive. In her mid fifties, with long reddish-blonde hair and light blue eyes, her figure was still firm and slender. He would consider taking her to bed but she didn’t seem interested in anything but her work. They had spent two weeks touring Europe together hoping to combine her expertise in Roman history and his intimate knowledge of Roman archeology into a special symposium for scholars in each field. A weeklong convention of the best minds in the world would be meeting in Rome later that week to exchange information. Kate and he would start the meeting with the film they shot on their journey and some interesting new information they had found, especially in Emerita Augusta, Spain.

He needed to use the facilities and approached Kate to see if she had enough photos for their presentation. “Kate, are you nearly finished?”

Kate turned and smiled. “I’d like to shoot a few more, especially over toward the pits. I noticed the same markings on the wall that we saw in Emerita.”

“Why don’t you do that while I take a moment?” Rico couldn’t wait any longer. “Please remember that we are here alone and don’t lean over the railings. You could fall and be hurt.” He cautioned her out of a sense of duty but also because he knew from past experience, that she would not pay attention to her own safety if she were caught up in analyzing some new information. “As soon as I get back you can show me the marks. It would tie our other findings with Rome.”

The Amphitheater was closed to the public today. Rico had obtained special permission to take her there. She watched as he walked away and knew that it would take him several minutes to get to where he was going, finish his business and return. It would give her the time she needed to climb down and investigate.

The wall below her looked stable and there were enough pock holes for her to find purchase and climb down. Once she was down she could simply climb back up the same way. She had to hurry though; Rico wouldn’t be long.

She slipped her camera and the small tape recorder into the pocket of her multi-pocketed khaki slacks and eased over the catwalk railing. The short sleeved, tight fitting tee shirt and hiking boots were perfect for this kind of climbing. As predicted, the wall was sturdy and she found enough hand and foot holds to make her way to the bottom. She was standing in what was one of the halls leading to “the pit”, an area that, during the active days of the arena, held the weapons and equipment for the gladiators.

She moved quickly toward the room with the symbols that matched the ones they found in Spain. The marks were exactly the same. It was what looked like a laurel, the head adornment of the emperor with the inscription below, MAXIMVS.

Was this Maximus an emperor that they didn’t know about or was he like Spartacus, the slave who rose to command an army of slaves that defeated Rome on no less than three occasions? Whoever he was, the indications of his existence was found several places and always in or near an arena. She found it strange that the markings hadn’t been noticed before. Even Rico was at a loss to explain it. At first Kate thought someone was ‘creating’ a mystery. Probably someone who saw the movie ‘Gladiator’ decided to give Maximus Decimus Meridius, a totally fictional character: historical credibility. But on closer inspection, the markings seemed authentic.

As she contemplated her findings, a cold wind blew through the passageway. She stepped back, as though an unseen force was pushing her. As her back hit the wall behind her, she felt as if she were falling.

Kate woke with a start. She was lying on a cold stone floor. She could hear voices. Were they looking for her? Had she fallen? Where was she? She took a moment to recall what her last thoughts were before losing consciousness. There was the wind and a force that seemed to push her into the wall. When she looked up she realized that there were solid wooden beams over her where an open sky should have been. The room she was in had weapons and armor. There were lit torches in the nearby hallway. It seemed to be the same one she walked just a few minutes before, but on closer inspection, she realized it couldn’t be. Not only was it covered as the room was, this hallway was well used and no evidence of plant growth was present. That wasn’t entirely true. There was algae indicating moisture and constant darkness, on the walls.

A moment was all she needed to reassure herself that she was not hurt in anyway. She could hear voices again and stood up cautiously moving down the hallway toward the sound. Everything seemed so foreign that she was unwilling to announce her presence until she was sure of where she was and what the situation might be.

Moving quietly as possible, Kate eased around a slight bend in the hall. An archway with light coming from it stood only five feet away. A man lurched out of the room and into the hallway and Kate ducked back so he wouldn’t see her. He made a crude remark to someone in the other room before he moved down the corridor in the opposite direction.

Kate stood for a moment contemplating what she saw and heard. The man was dressed as a Praetorian would have been and he spoke Latin in the native guttural words of the less educated. What had she fallen into? She knew of the men who stood in front of the Colosseum, garbed in clothes that were meant to make them look like Roman soldiers. They appealed to the tourists and made a living through posing for pictures. To anyone who knew what real Roman soldiers wore, they were a sorry imitation.

The Praetorian though, had accurate clothing and speech. This must be some type of movie set or staging area for a movie set. No one else would go to such lengths to make clothing so historically correct and except for the use in the Catholic Church and the few scholars, who learned it for translation, Latin was a dead language. Where was she and how did she end up here? She knew of no movies being shot in or around the Colosseum, nor any plays that might draw interest to tourists.

On the other hand, Rico had given her no plausible reason why the magnificent old landmark was closed that day. If they were filming and didn’t want onlookers it would make sense that the producer ask for the place to be closed. But why would they let a movie crew down here when no one else was allowed? And, how did they convince Rome’s historical society to let them tamper with the ruins, by covering the floor of the arena with wooden planks? And… why wouldn’t they have noticed her there? Something was definitely wrong.

She could hear moaning and something that sounded like a whip. She moved quietly to the archway and peered in. What she saw was right out of the history books for torture. A man dressed as a Praetorian was whipping another man who was chained, spread eagle at both his wrists and ankles. Blood was flowing freely from deep wounds on his back. Except for his loincloth he was completely bare and exposed to the whip. On a tier above him to her left were several other men watching, holding on to the bars that kept them jailed, unable to help the man below them.

Her eyes searched the room for evidence of cameras or some kind of staging. There were none. This was no stage, no play, no movie set, it was real.

She saw the chained man slump held up only by the chains on his wrists. She could see even more brutality on his body. Large bruises were everywhere. What had the Praetorian said as he walked out? It was a warning not to kill the Spaniard, just make sure he was malleable when Commodus arrived.

Commodus? No one names their child Commodus. In fact the only Commodus she knew of was Marcus Aurelius’ son. He had been co-emperor for a short time along with his father. When Marcus Aurelius died he took the reins of power and proceeded to nearly ruin Rome. He undid so many things his father had accomplished. When his tenth year as Caesar was nearly ended, his concubine, Marcia, in league with several senators, had a slave named Narcissus, kill him during one of their routine wrestling matches.

Kate didn’t hear the Praetorian return. He saw her spying and grabbed her from behind, dragging her into the room with him. Caught by surprise, Kate only yelped, but didn’t react. He had her in an iron grip and was feeling her up. If her first impression was correct, she had somehow slid into the past, some two thousand years into the past.

She struggled momentarily, then stopped. She knew from her training that a man set on rape was encouraged by fear and used domination to control his captive and complete his need. Roman men were already dominant. History showed clearly that women were less valued and were only important for what they could bring to their husbands and families as wives.

The Praetorian with the whip turned to see what was going on. He leered. “Claudius! Where did you get that little morsel?”

The man holding Kate laughed, “She was spying on you. I thought maybe we could relax for a while and enjoy her comforts while she tells us why she was here.”

“Good idea. Bring her here. Let her see what she’ll get if she doesn’t cooperate.”

As his fellow guard dragged Kate in front of him, the whip master grabbed Kate’s breast, then seemed to realize she wasn’t dressed like any woman he’d ever seen. His eyes narrowed, “So, my little peach, where are you from that you wear such strange clothes?”

Kate wasn’t certain where she was or why she was there, but one thing she knew without a doubt was, that these men were torturing someone and that could not bode well for her.

Kate’s Latin was rusty and having been trained in classical Latin, she had a hard time following the street gibberish her captors were using. Could she use her educated Latin to an advantage? She had nothing to loose.

“Get your hands off me! Who do you think you are? I’ll have your skin flayed to the bone!”

Neither guard was expecting that. The woman was obviously a Patrician. They both deferred for a moment. Kate took advantage when the man holding her loosened his grip. She slipped deftly out of his grasp and with the whipping speed of a striking viper, landed a knuckle strike to his larynx collapsing it. He grabbed his throat as if to free the passageway, then collapsed clawing at his throat, dying of asphyxiation.

The other guard watched as his friend dropped, writhing, to the cold floor. He was stunned but reacted quickly. He backhanded Kate sending her flying up against the wall. He drew his gladius as he moved.

“I don’t know from what high-handed family you come, but I’m sure Caesar will forgive me for killing you. He would never let you live now that you have seen what we’ve done to the Spaniard!”

Kate was stunned but still in control. Very few of her colleagues knew of her martial arts training. She saw no need in enlightening them. They would have been amazed if they’d seen what she did when the guard advanced on her. He swung his sword intending to behead her, but at the last moment she ducked and launched herself at his mid-section. She hit him with a body tackle that would have made a linebacker proud.

The man fell back and she used her momentum to spin away and somersault to the dying guard. She grabbed his sword and stood ready. The gladius was slightly shorter than the sword she used in Kendo, but it would have to do. Using both hands wasn’t as comfortable with this sword since the handle was made as a one-hand grip not two.

Kate allowed herself to relax, but hoped she gave the appearance of a scared woman.

The man laughed, “You don’t know how to use a gladius, do you? Come, I will make your end swift and painless.”

“Good,” she thought. “He’ll underestimate me.” And, he did. Confident that he had a frightened woman at his mercy, he advanced. He would disarm her then take his pleasure before sending her to Elysium. He struck at her gladius intending to break her grip. He barely felt the contact and realized too late, that she had misdirected the force and left him open to attack. Kate didn’t hesitate; she ran her blade directly into his exposed throat.

For all of her martial arts training Kate had never been put to the ultimate test. She stood looking at the men she killed. It was strange that she felt nothing. Not happy or sad, simply nothing.

Kate heard whispering and looked up at the men in the jail cells. She saw approval as well as curiosity. The man in chains moaned and she moved to assess his condition. He was a mess. Blood was running down his broad back, he had bruises on his ribs, perhaps either cracked or broken. When she moved around to face him she could see more bruises and cuts to his otherwise handsome face. She couldn’t imagine why he was here, hell she didn’t even know where ‘here’ was. But one thing she did know, no man deserved to be treated like this, whatever his crime.

“My Lady!”

Kate looked up to see who addressed her. He was standing at the bars of the jail along with about eight other men. He was an older man dressed in a toga virilis, the garb of the Senate of Rome. His hair was white and he looked to be in his sixties. The face that regarded her was a mask of worry.

“My Lady, please. You’ve just killed two of Commodus’ Praetorian guards. He will make sure you die for that. Please release us and let us help you. The man in chains is important to Rome. We must save him as well.”

“Who are you and where am I?”

“I am Senator Gracchus. These men are gladiators who tried to save Maximus from Commodus’ revenge.” Gracchus could understand that she wouldn’t know who they were but was curious why she didn’t know where she was. Perhaps she was incapacitated before being brought here? She might even be the wife or daughter of someone Commodus wished to intimidate. As such, he answered, “We are in the bowels of the Amphitheater. It won’t be easy to escape but we must try. Please ,my lady, we haven’t much time.”

Kate’s head was spinning. Was she in a dream? She couldn’t really be in ancient Rome no matter what her education and her surroundings told her. It simply wasn’t possible, was it? No matter. She had to find a way to release the man in chains. Maximus. Was he the same Maximus of the symbols?

“My Lady, the keys to our jail and to the locks on Maximus’ chains are on the table.” Gracchus stood looking at her as if she were a simpleton. Well, in all fairness to her, she was a simpleton. This wasn’t her world, was it?

Kate dropped the sword she still held and went to the small table to find the keys. She found them and moved up the small stairway to the level above. “Why should I trust you?” She really didn’t know what the situation was. She could be releasing men who would as soon kill her as help her. Her only hope was that Gracchus was who he said he was and she wasn’t making the mistake of her life.

A tall black man moved next to Gracchus. “My Lady,” he said, “Senator Gracchus is the only man in Rome that we can trust. He is trying to help Maximus free Rome from Commodus. Please, Lady, he and Maximus must be protected.”

She hesitated a moment longer. Would they kill her as soon as the cell was unlocked? Did she have a choice? If she really was in ancient Rome where would she be able to go without money and no one to turn to? She looked into the eyes of the handsome black man and saw no malice. The man was so earnest Kate was willing to believe she was doing what was right, when she slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. She stood back as the black slave ran out and down to Maximus.

He called up to her. “My lady, please, throw me the keys!”

She did as he asked and watched as he unlocked the chains that bound his friend. He caught Maximus as he slid to the floor. The other captives moved past her down the stairway and gathered around trying to see how badly the man was injured.

Gracchus put his hand on the black man’s shoulder. “Juba, we must get him out of here… now! We can tend his wounds once we’re safely away.”

Maximus stirred just as Kate moved down the stairway. He blinked and focused on Juba.

“Maximus, we are free but we must make our way out of the arena. Can you walk?” Juba was prepared to carry his friend, but it would make them both more vulnerable.

The man nodded and Juba helped him up. One of the other men handed Juba a tunic and they helped Maximus into it.

Even though the man looked bedraggled the sound of his voice was still commanding. “Tyre, Brennson, take the swords and lead the way to the equipment room. We will all need to be armed if we run into Praetorians.”

The two men reacted without hesitation.

“My Lady, come we will protect you.” When Gracchus said that it was from respect for her gender and born of upbringing. He realized, however, that in a fight she would probably do better than he. He’d seen her kill two men just as the others had. He had no doubt that she could do it again if necessary. Maximus looked at her and she could see the questions in his eyes. Who was she? What was she doing here? But when he looked at Gracchus it was evident that he accepted his evaluation of her and said nothing.

They moved down the corridor as quickly and quietly as possible to the room where she had been before. Each man chose a weapon and some light armor then they started back toward the corridor.

Kate’s nose twitched, as she smelled the men so close. Ever the historian, she absorbed everything and compared it with what was considered truth in her time. They obviously hadn’t bathed in sometime. For their time, Romans were notoriously clean people. There were many bathhouses throughout the empire. Even small towns had them. However, these men had been gladiators and baths were sporadic depending on whether they won enough money to buy their baths. If they were favorites of the crowd, ladies and men would pay for their sexual favors and a bath was always expected beforehand so as not to offend the client.

Kate was never so afraid in her life as she was sneaking through the nearly dark passageway; it was lit with torches in approximately ten-foot intervals. Her mind was trying to put logic to a totally illogical situation. These men really were gladiators. There were real men who would run them all through with a sword if they were discovered. She really was holding on to a Senator of Rome. Or…she had fallen from the catwalk and this was no more than a ‘concussion induced’ dream. No, the sounds of hungry animals echoed through the corridor. The smell of blood, sweat and death were real.

None of the cells they passed were occupied. That made Kate wonder why. Gracchus whispered, “Commodus scheduled 150 days of games. He’s been slaughtering Christians, his enemies and anyone they could drag from Suburra to supplement the gladiators he’s paying for. I believe we were to be his entertainment later today and it would cost him not one denari. No doubt they have other prisoners in the Tullian compound that they will use as well.”

Careful to be quiet, she whispered back, “But the Tullian was for political prisoners. How is it that you came to be here?” Kate remembered some of the horrors the archaeologists found when they opened the underground vaults where the prisoners were starved to death or died from disease like the plague.

“I am branded a traitor. My lands have been confiscated by now and my slaves are probably already on their way to the slave markets.” She could see that upset him more than the thought of dying.

Tyre and Brennson stopped and everyone behind them stopped as well. They could hear voices. They must be close to the guard gate. Tyre turned to Maximus. “Brennson and I will clear the way.”

They moved silently away and returned only moments later. Tyre grinned, “They were playing dice…didn’t know what hit them.”

The ragged party moved forward. As they passed the guardroom Kate could make out three dead men. Gracchus held her arm and hurried her on. They reached the huge iron-clad wooden door and Tyre unlocked it. He pulled hard and was rewarded with a groan and movement. He quickly looked outside in both directions. It was still dark and there were no more guards. The small alley that ran both ways was used for deliveries. None of the men recognized where they were in relationship to the arena.

Gracchus, as a Senator had always entered through a gate that was exclusively for Patricians and nobles. The masses entered though several gates around the massive building. Maximus and the other gladiators were herded through a separate gate used only for those who were to be that day’s entertainment. It had several ‘showing’ cages where the populace could see the men they could bet on.

Kate was the only one who recognized where they were. That same day she and Rico had spoken about the entrance as they walked the exterior of the building. She recognized the façade of the building down the street. It was now a curio shop protected as an historical site. Rico had explained that only two years earlier the owner of the building had decided to refurbish it and when the wooden façade was pulled down, it revealed that it was in fact a part of the compound that housed gladiators from out of town. This was, however, the back of the building and none of the men would have seen it before. They were led out the front and paraded through the streets the long way around so the crowd could admire them better.

“Wait!” Kate whispered. “I know where we are. That’s the back of the public gladiator school.” She pointed down the alleyway to emphasize her claim.

“Where do we go now, Maximus? They’ll be looking for us as soon as the Praetorians come to change the guards.” Tyre and the others were looking to him for guidance.

Kate could see the man was nearly exhausted. He needed his wounds tended, a meal and rest. “The school. We’ll hide in the one place they’ll never expect.”

Although there were worried looks, not one man questioned his decision.

They made their way down the dark alley and found the back door to the school was unlocked. There was smoke and a smell of charred meat coming from the courtyard. The bodies of the men killed that night were gone; burned in a funeral pyre in the middle of the school. Nothing but the bones and stench remained. Once the fight was over, instead of burning it, the Praetorians left the school as a reminder to others that Commodus would not be crossed.

Kate stood looking at the pile of ashes. The smell was overwhelming and she couldn’t help but turn to the side and retch. Once she recovered, Gracchus gently took her by the arm and steered her into Proximo’s private quarters, off the courtyard. He found a room, probably one of the guard's sleeping quarters and indicated Kate should sit down. She did as he asked, sat on the bed and tried to compose herself.

“What happened here?” Her voice was shaking.

The senator pulled a small stool over by the bed and answered quietly. “Myself and several other influential people bought Maximus from Proximo, the lanista and owner of the gladiators housed here. Maximus was to have been smuggled out of Rome where he would return to his legion, Felix III. It is camped at Ostia. Maximus was sure once his men saw him they would follow him to Rome and help him take power from Commodus. Unfortunately, one of our co-conspirators, under threat from Commodus, revealed our plot. I was arrested at my home and Praetorians came here to arrest Maximus. The men rioted to give him time to get away, but he was caught as he left the school through a secret passage. The rest you know.”

Kate shook her head. “But why were they so concerned about a slave? What do you mean 'return to his legion'? Who is Maximus?”

Gracchus sighed, “It has been a long weary night. It will be dawn soon and I think you should try to sleep. We will talk more later and see if we can get you back to your family. What is your Gens?”

“My Gens?”

“Yes, from what Patrician family do you come?”

What could she say? How could she explain to this man where she was from? He had assumed, as their Praetorian guards had, that because she spoke flawless, high Latin, that she must be a Patrician.

“I am not Roman, Senator. I come from a land so far away that Rome does not know it exists. It’s called…Usa. I am here alone. I have no family or friends I can go to and no way to return to my own land. So, you see, I am no one.”

“But what is your name, child?”

Child? She couldn’t be more than maybe ten years his junior. She hesitated and said, “Katlin Moore.”