Bread And Circuses

Although this is a pop culture blog, I also write fiction in my spare time, and some of it will occasionally find its way onto the website. I’ve decided to do this on encouragement from Lyn over at The Encouraging Scribe. The world is made of stories and I’d like to share a few of mine.

As an appreciator of history and Ancient Rome, I’ve always fancied writing some historical fiction. Here is a short piece I’ve come up with called Bread and Circuses.

Bevyn pulled his sword free like he’d done so many times before. Blood watered the sand, gleaming crimson in the fading sunlight. The sight shouldn’t have bothered him as taking lives was the fate of every gladiator who stepped into the arena. But when a man is asked to kill his own brother all sense of duty falls aside.

Gavyn clutched the wound in his gut, his dark hair smeared with sweat and gore. Bevyn saw pride mixed with resignation in his face. He’d give everything for the both of them to be far away from Rome’s shadow.

The crowd stamped their feet, jabbering like a pack of starving dogs until their Emperor stood and held his hands up for silence. Bevyn forced himself to watch the downturned thumb and his stomach twisted into knots. His fingers trembled. The silence carried on, becoming as heavy as his sword.

He looked to Gavyn, expected to see pain, but his brother smiled. It was the same smile he’d worn all their lives and Bevyn felt like a boy again, being scolded for not keeping his guard up during their sparring matches along the Rhine.

Gavyn gave a short, resolute nod and Bevyn cursed the Emperor, cursed every Roman who sat in the stands. He cursed the gods for their cruelty and himself for weakness. Bevyn plunged the sword into his brother’s neck, severing the final shred of sanity he had in an insane world.