I’ve received word, everything is in place for the release of my first novel. In less than two weeks, IN A TIME BEFORE: A Story of Love, Death, and Life in Rome of the 1st and 21st Century AD will be available. As soon as it is published, I’ll send an email blast to everyone who has signed up for my Newsletter. In the meantime, I invite you to read the Prologue: 1st Century Rome titled “In a Dream.” .
In a Time Before
by CD Haun
Prologue: 1st Century AD
In a Dream
The crowd is screaming. I look around at the mob. Thousands of people fill the wooden structure. Unlike most of my dreams, I realize this is not reality. Yet here I am, seated in the section of the arena reserved for equestrians. I don’t understand how I know this, but I do.
Someone who I seem to know is my friend pounds me on the back as he yells with the thousands around us. He points down at the arena where two victims, a young man, and a young woman, are running toward the wall in front of us. They hold their hands up in supplication. As they run, they also scream. Their call repeated over and over is, “Dominus, Dominus, have mercy on us!” The person beside me is laughing so loudly; I can hardly hear the supplications from below.
I watch the two youths and smile, unsure of what is happening. Then a movement behind them catches my attention, and I understand. Marching across the arena floor behind the couple is a gladiator. He wears an all-black costume that matches what must be an ancestry of deep African descent. The young man glances up at me, then turns and steps behind his woman to shield her from this bringer of death. The girl continues to look up at me with her arms extended, imploring me for mercy.
I realize I’m dreaming, but what I am experiencing is the most amazing and vibrant dream ever. It is so vivid; it feels real.
As the crowd roars my name, “Justus, Justus,” I stand regally and wave around the arena, acknowledging the recognition. Some of the senators in their front row seats turn and nod at me. I gaze down at the panicked woman whose young man wants so much to protect her. Lowering my hand, I extend it straight out, almost in a salute. Then I make a fist and raise my thumb toward the sky.
Below me, the woman drops her arms and covers her face as if overcome by my public acceptance of their pleas. The young man twists half around to look up at me. He gives the woman a quick hug from behind, then resumes his defensive stance, and the two wait for what approaches.
The gladiator stops within six feet of the couple. He glances up at me. Recognizing the signal I give, he acknowledges my decision with a nod and closes his visor. With a short wave of his gladius toward me, or perhaps toward the senators in front, he moves closer to the couple. The young lad raises his wooden sword, prepared to slash at the gladiator in a futile defensive attempt.
The crowd roars its approval, and I check my hand at the end of my extended arm. My thumb still points up. Everyone who has ever watched a movie about Ancient Rome knows that signal means life. A thought crosses my mind: “Only in the movies.” In real Ancient Rome, a thumb pointed in any direction meant death. But a single sign called for life, and that was the thumb encased inside one’s fist.
At that moment, I swear I try to bring my thumb down and lock it within my fingers, but nothing happens. Although I demand my thumb take this step and enclose itself within my stretched-out hand, it will not move. I want life, but my thumb up position indicates I approve of death.
Standing on the sand of the arena and holding his wooden sword awkwardly in front of him, the young man slashes at the oncoming gladiator, but the gladiator lifts his gladius to block his move. Even from my seat, I can hear the clash of metal against wood. In a flash, the gladiator flicks his blade, and the wooden sword goes flying. It lands some ten feet away, the point buried in the sand. Now defenseless - if a wooden sword can be considered a defense against a steel gladius - the young man turns and wraps his arms around his girl.
Giving the couple and the crowd one last moment, the gladiator lowers his head. Then, in little more than a heartbeat, he steps forward and thrusts his sword through the unprotected back of the woman’s human shield. As the sword advances, the young man’s body pushes against his girl. The gladiator continues his thrust, and his blade’s point bursts out the front of the girl’s chest.
Life ebbs from the couple. For a moment, they remain upright because of the strength of the gladiator. The sword slips back, disappearing again into the torso of the woman. As it does, she slumps to the ground in a kneeling position. The gladiator continues to pull back, and the tip of the blade emerges from the back of the man. Having also been released, the man follows his beloved to the ground. For a second, the two kneel as in a loving embrace before they topple to the arena sand. Blood puddles out in front of the woman and behind her love. Life ebbs as hearts that loved cease to beat.
I stand transfixed, watching as the couple who pleaded to me for life die in front of me. As they do, my arm remains extended with my thumb pointed up. I sought to approve their entreaties and instead sent death. My friend once more pounds on my back. I almost fall over the balustrade as he does. When I turn to him, he says, “Quod erat miris. Ferme ceciderunt una via. Crongratulations in spectaculum vere bonum. Si tibi placet memores multitudinis offie currere.”
At first, I fail to understand the words he uses. Then something clicks in my mind, and what he said makes sick sense. “That was amazing. The way they fell almost together. Congratulations on a good spectacle. The crowd should remember you if you decide to run for office.”
“Good spectacle...run for office...What occurred confuses me. When I raised my thumb, I meant for them to live, not die,
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Thanks for reading my post and have a gorgeous day.
CDH
