On more than one occasion that night, Logan had been tempted to lunge for one of the many swords he had seen belted at the waists of the Romans surrounding him. These Romans were so careless that Logan had counted at least five times that he could have gotten ahold of a sword without any trouble. The only reason he hadn’t taken advantage of that was the chains that were weighing him down.
It was shameful the way the Romans treated their slaves. Since his arrival, Logan had been paraded through the streets like a new horse. He’d been jeered at, mocked and had all sorts of vegetables thrown at him. These ignorant Romans thought that he didn’t know what they were saying about him. That the vicious insults they hurled his way were registered as anything more than unintelligible gibberish.
What the Romans weren’t aware of was that Logan spoke Latin. A wayward Roman had happened upon his village when Logan was a child. Unlike the Romans, Logan and his villagers had treated the Roman with respect, catering to his every whim. In return, the Roman had taught them about the greater world and the vast technologies that the Roman’s employed in their conquests. Technologies that Logan had seen first hand when the Romans had attacked his village.
Logan had watched, first hand, as the Romans slaughtered his entire village. Everyone he had ever known and loved was dead because the Romans had willed it so. The only reason Logan’s life had been spared was because they had seen him as a perfect example of his kind. So they had put him in chains and dragged him halfway across the world.
To do the Romans credit, their vast city was fit for the gods. The scope and size of some of the buildings were beyond comprehension. In all his years, Logan had never seen such large structures built entirely out of stones. It was as though they had carved away at a mountain, leaving the city in place of its vast summit.
Logan had seen a great deal since the dreary day the Romans had locked the thick bands of metal around his wrists, ankles and throat. Still, the awe that he felt towards the world the Romans had created himself was greatly outweighed by his hatred for them. They had destroyed his world and were going to use him as a plaything of sorts.
At least that was what Logan assumed. He’d heard the word, “gladiator,” spoken often in reference to him, but Logan wasn’t entirely sure what that was. From what he’d gathered in snippets of conversations, a gladiator was a warrior of sorts. Something Logan had been before he’d become a slave.
“How on earth did you come across it?” a fat man draped in layers of white cloth asked the man who held the length of chain attached to the manacle around Logan’s throat.
The man, Flavius, laughed as though it were some hilarious joke. “My brother brought it back from his expeditions to the west with Caesar. He thought that I would find the barbarian useful. At worst, he’ll make a good gladiator.”
“So you mean to fight him in the games?” the fat man asked, coming closer to inspect Logan as though he were a beast killed on a hunt.
“Why yes, I--”
Every voice in the garden stopped all at once. At first Logan could not figure out what was going on. Nothing of interest seemed to be happening. For some reason they had all just stopped talking.
Then Logan turned his head towards the staircase and beheld a real live goddess.
Her clothes shimmered in the light of the torches. Even at a distance, Logan could clearly make out the shape of her body through the crimson fabric. Her face was covered as well by a cloth the same colour as her dress. It was thicker, though, because Logan’s couldn’t see her face very well. It wasn’t until she came closer, led on the arm of a lowly mortal, that Logan was able to see her features. Her painted lips, her delicate nose, finely arched eyebrows.
Logan looked into her eyes at the exact same moment she looked into his. She seemed surprised that he could see into her eyes because her entire body jerked ever so lightly. A slight smile flickered across her lips so Logan knew that she approved of what she was seeing.
“I am told his name is Logan,” Flavius told the man who had escorted the goddess to them. “Dreadful name, don’t you think?”
For the first time, Logan did not care what they said about him. He had eyes only for the goddess which stood before him. Since he was a small child, Logan had heard stories of the gods walking among mortals, but had never thought such things were possible. Why would such a divine creature consort with mortals?
Logan could feel his heartbeat increase as the goddess took a half step towards him, her eyes trained on his face. He wanted to speak, to say something to her, but Logan knew the consequences of speaking when he was not supposed to.
After all, what was there that he could say to a goddess?
He was barely worthy to stand in her presence let alone speak to her. Would she be pleased, though, that he could speak her language? It was enough of an affront to her that he was looking her in the face rather than averting his eyes.
“Keep your distance. There’s no telling what it will do to you,” her mortal escort warned, placing a hand on the goddess’s shoulder. “The barbarian must not taint you!”
The goddess scowled behind her veil but said nothing. No reprimand to the mortal who dared to place a hand on the goddess and displease her. She was utterly silent as she took yet another half step towards him, the smile returning to her face.
After that last step, the goddess stood close enough that Logan could brush his fingers against her gown if he so dared. It was too close. Logan had never been so close to something so sacred. He was just a lowly hunter. No goddess should be so close to him.
Logan immediately dropped to his knees before her, bowing his head so that all he could see of her were her feet.
A shocked murmur rose from the crowd that Logan could no longer see then the goddess was kneeling before him. She placed her cloth-covered hands on his cheeks, raising his head. Logan stared at her in complete and utter awe. That a goddess would touch him with her own hands as he knelt before her....
The goddess smiled warmly at him and slid her hands down to his upper arms, pulling him up as she stood. Logan could only stare at her, dumbly following her silent command. He stared down at her with wide eyes, wanting to touch her, but knowing that it was forbidden. She was a goddess and he could not touch her like she had him.
Then her right hand was lightly cupping his cheek and Logan couldn’t help but return his smile. The silent goddess seemed to be mouthing his name just before she was violently wrenched away from him by her mortal escort. She made no sound of protest, but Logan was able to catch the briefest flicker of fear in her eyes before he lost sight of her eyes as the man turned her away from him.
The goddess managed a quick look over her shoulder at him and Logan could see the sadness in them.
“How dare you touch her, slave!” Flavius yelled, backhanding him hard across the face.
The many large rings that covered Flavius’s hand tore into his cheek, releasing a flow of blood. Logan ignored it, though. He had eyes only for the goddess. She had offered him a soft caress, blessing him when others would condemn him to death.
Before the goddess made it back into her home, Logan was being dragged by Flavius who seemed unconcerned with the fact that he couldn’t take very large stride due to the fetters he wore on his ankles. Logan stumbled repeatedly, falling to his knees only to fall and stumble again as Flavius kept walking without waiting for him to regain his footing.
When they reached the area where Flavius’s litter was, the Roman walked right past it to a nearby tree. Instructing a servant to grab hold of the dangling length of chain between his wrists, Flavius flung the chain he had been holding over a low hanging branch. The branch was a foot or so above Logan’s head, so when Flavius pulled the chain back down, Logan was feet were nearly forced off the ground as he struggled to keep from strangling on the manacle around his throat. Flavius handed that length of chain to another servant before disappearing out of Logan’s sight.
“You are not worthy to touch her!” Flavius cried, cracking a whip hard across his back.
Logan was barely able to bite back a scream at the sudden painful blow.
“You are a lowly slave! A barbarian!” Flavius continued shouting, his whip coming down on the end of every sentence. “She is pure! Untainted! You are not to touch her! Nor are you even fit to look her in the eyes!”
Even after he had finished speaking, Flavius continued flailing his back with the stiff leather whip. Logan could feel the warm, sticky blood running down his back only to stain his kilt. He refused to cry out in pain, though. Logan nearly bit through his lip to keep the screams in, but he didn’t grant Flavius the pleasure of hearing his pain.
Finally, the blows stop at the chain was released. Logan fell so suddenly that he was unable to regain his balance and collapsed onto his knees. His wrists had been released as well and Logan fell forward, pressing his face against the cool grass.
“Get up, you worthless dog!” Flavius hissed, yanking Logan to his feet by the chain around his throat.
Logan swayed precariously on his feet, his head defiantly raised. He refused to allow the little man the pleasure of breaking him.
“If you weren’t going to make me lots of money in the games I would kill you now,” Flavius snarled, viciously yanking Logan back towards the litter. “That is all that has saved your life this night.”
Logan said nothing. He followed silently after the litter as it was lead away from the house. As they passed a window, Logan turned to gaze at him.
What he saw inside made his heart soar.
The goddess was standing at the window, her veil removed so that he could see her face without any coverings. In the dim lighting, Logan saw something that shocked him to no end.
Tears.
The goddess had tears running down her cheeks. Tears that were shed for him and what she had undoubtedly witnessed a few moments before. As their eyes met, Logan gave her a crooked smile and nodded his head.
Just before he was forced to turn his face away from the window, Logan saw the goddess mouth something to him. A simple sentence that made him forget all about the pain in his back.
“I am sorry, Logan.”
Then they passed a tree and the goddess was lost from his sight.