III

      "Bìxîa, our plight, Bìxîa"

      Ja Lia pushed the bowl sideways as he paged the gladiator in a grey robe. The summoned fastened to him and he brushed his robe with his damp hand. His right hand had been damp with soup and bleeds of the steaks and venisons. The culprit succumbed. What choice did he have? None! Like absolutely none! He was a pawn to nature and the hideous master. His fate was an offshoot of moaning misery. He couldn't have done anything about it. He wouldn't even if he would. Life hitherto had been betraying to him. He'd lost his wife, babies and cursed his parents! What was their to be happy about? Nothing!

       The master then turned to the owner of the glottis that had puked the prior statement. He couldn't fathom what they'd said. Probably, he had made meaning of it but kept pruning lies for his sanity. How could just a man! A gladiator matter-of-factly! Not just any type of gladiator, but the one he really detested. How could he had entered into the stronghold and escaped without being caught by twenty-five gladiators? He didn't know how possible that was. Well, he knew how strange the cod was, but refused to admit it. He was raging. Raving in rage. He had no idea what to say to him. Well, he had an idea but was reluctant to foster it. He etched a sassy smirk in his physiognomy as he spat:

      "Say it again. And this time, try not to crush my feeble nerve."

       He wasn't sure if the addressed could make meaning of what he'd said. They were picked like dusts swept from different haggard hemispheres into a foiled furrow. Some of them were from Persia, some England, Africa, Lebanon, Austria and other countries with smothered names. From there all were they brought to Greece to serve his mercy. Though he was subjected to the Roman emperor, yet his influence on the gladiators was quite alarming and demeaning. The 1094.6 km from Greece to Rome was once in a month. And that moment was but the birth a new month. Most times had they been caught on the way by sundry animals while traveling the jungle. Who leads group of mature men through a jungle when there are trained tracks and paved paths! He was such the ferocious master! Since he'd been involved in the game, he'd never bred a Rudiarus! He'd always led whoever amongst them who proved to be stanced in four consecutive matches to death fighting a panther barehandedly. He was quite the mean! The gladiator that'd won the fifth match with the lanky leopard had been stabbed by another gladiator who wouldn't expel jealousy at the realization of being a slave when another would be free. The addressed shivered:

      "It w-was that foolish gladiator that ran away. We were busy at the spot you placed us. W-we couldn't h-have l-left t-there. You'd cut off our heads at realization. Then we heard a thud behind us at the window. Turning, it was him. He'd stolen some of our things and the motherfucker escaped with one of the javelins we aimed at him. We're sorry. If he's not, I am, Bìxîa."

        Ja Lia stood abruptly and spat into his face. He dared not wipe it off. He'd had his face steamed if he thought of it let alone tried it. How would he know his thought? Never deem Ja Lia weak! Never thought of him natural! He'd gone beyond natural and had mated with the spiritual tendencies. He was more than a master. He was a poet who was obsessed with gladiators and had attained his contention. He spat into his face again; syllables now!

        "Take himself and the twenty four others to the Coliseum."

       The heftier of the gladiators, William, an English rouge dragged the all out. They were to be killed by Cyclops. Such is their fates; there were to fight five minutes with clubs and spear with Cyclops, and after that, they'd be chained to be killed by the same. If they were lucky enough to have Cyclops killed, which was very slim, they'd be very free to face the next stage - withstand leopards counterparts!

       The day was very lit. The tidings of the hay had been translated by the odds of taunted time. The wanky wind could not relate them to sane semantic denotations. The message then was smothered into callous confetti as time had its worn way across the boulevard of rusty rage. Their above was more of an haven than a place. It was haggardly comely. Ja Lia had no exceptions to the state of the agora. He had never had any. He felt like he was doing the best thing he could he ever do. He was no longer humane. He was already living like an animal. He loved being one. Loved sleeping on the eerie earth and would never suffer anyone to take his robe. That he loved being an animal, he wanted all gladiators suit; forcing his delights on them! How barbaric!

       "Let Massacre begins..."

      The twenty five gladiators were pushed into the heart of the Colosseum. Cyclops flexed his arms. His sword in the right hand, the spear in the left hand. The shield was strapped to his back. It was a usual business for him. It was something his mercy had been acquainted with. He wouldn't cower like a cornered deer before those appetizers. He moved towards them and took two down at a time. His pride mated with his reasoning and he fostered the twain. Conception was enthroned and the hunger to kill more stirred his rage, like sassy steam puked by callous cauldron. His eyes were wild. Wildly wide. He was going to have so much a fun. He was really prepared for it. He needed no encouragement from the audience. He'd never needed. They had just been worn whooshes of the tumbling tide. He looked across the audience to Ja Lia, who was savoring a moistened massage from two disrobed ladies. The right tit of the one on the right brushed Ja Lia's head and he wished he was the one. He'd been nursing the thought that one day he'd take Ja Lia down and assume his position! Ja Lia smirked as he looked at him as though he could read his thoughts through the gaunt gaze. Cyclops dumped the thoughts and gave his swords swigs of heads - five others were down. It sure would be more of a fun than a task to him. He needed no strength. He needed only pride. Yea! And it was working.

       Hell wrong he was! It wasn't going to work throughout the game. He noticed the remaining eighteen retreating. Not retreating as a bid of escaping, but vice, damp device to pruning some hideous motive. He had no idea what they were up to, but he was sure that it was to no good. He knew they were scheming an architectural malady he'd not live in but die in. Their eyes were complemented by the swaying of their swords. They had made a lock. A circle and had had him in the middle. He was calculating as they kept fostering the hidden. He was sure that he needed to do something quickly. His legs were fiddling the string of passion and his heart of rage. He hastely approached one and sent his head flying in the air. Even at that, the lock didn't slack. He was awed. Even Ja Lai was already on his feet. His heart was in his face. The smirk had been metamorphosed into felon frown. He was restless. Probably restless for Cyclops. Cyclops went again like you do in Kabaadi and had a successful raid. What a great raider he was. The fun he had thought he'd had had knew another level. Twas at the moment it became more pleasant. He sucked nectar of the gods from the fun. His face was lit. He went the third time and KO! What were you expecting.

       Ja Lia seemed pleased at that moment. He sat again and resumed his pleasure. No sooner he sat than an uproar stirred his mercy. He looked towards the spot and hell! Cyclops was down. He had only closed his eyes for few seconds to heave a sigh of relief regarding the lock the gladiators had made. But before he could open his eyes, his Cyclops was down. The greatest of his warriors was lying lifeless on the spot. His breath had been in a haste to awe death. Death had sat on it and had had a pleasant moment squashing its rage. Death had stood up upon her plea and he'd wooed her, but blunt breath would not succumb to wily fellow. She escaped from the cubicle of the comely and was abducted by Poseidon. Pious Poseidon took her to his own abode - of course having a lady added to the list of his dells wouldn't be too bad an idea.

        

        The gladiator who Ja Lia had spat into his face removed the bronze helmet of the warthog and did justice to his head. His entourage shrieked in attestation, eating Ja Lia with a belittling ogle. They obviously no longer respected him. He didn't deserve their respect. He had never and would never. He had only being a imposter. He'd told the emperor, Romelius that he did his best treating them with care but hell wrong he was. He only made them had appropriate bathing a day before the emperor's arrival. And he'd also given them a dell to appease their surging urge.

       They'd always been like fools to him. Not that they couldn't have done what the cod had done - skedaddle. But they had the doubt when even the greatest Cyclops bowed to his mercy. Though a rumor of Cyclops seeing Ja Lia's woman tossed a guess of the reason he'd been his dog - couldn't afford to stir his jealousy. But Ja Lai was quite the spiritual one. He'd told them times without number what plots majority of them were grooming. They had an iota of doubt permeating their mental Ken when the cod escaped. If he truly saw into the spiritual realm, why couldn't he stop the cod from escaping before the day? Or who could tell, he probably had an informant - a pulpy parrot. All would keep guessing!

        At the death of Cyclops, that gladiator dangled his head in the air in mockery as he poked his tongue at Ja Lia. Other gladiators seconded his stance. They were ready for the worst. They danced around the Colosseum even though there was no rhythm pricked. Probably there was one, but only victors hear it. Probably it's merging of concerto grosso on accordion and bounty bag pipes, complemented by jembe - perstered tune pored piano pruned. But abruptly they stopped. Ja Lia had more misery in stock!

         "Now!!!"

        At that cry, all the gates which held all the game-leopards were opened. All by themselves. From fighting Cyclops, the warthog, to fighting the merciless leopards. Ja Lia could see fear snapping at their grits, chopping them into crumbs of conffeti. Each gladiator retreated firstly. They tried to foster the same thing they did with Cyclops but those leopards were restless. Hunger was running like a fluid across their faces. How would that kinda trick work on leopards that had their last meals heaven knew when. Thirty lanky leopards against fifteen men! How appalling.

       Their numbers began to reduce at the highest rates. The numbers of the gladiators!!! Cut one of the limbs of a leopard, he'd strike again. They were stubborn and ruthless. They were determined and purposed. Their wills to live kept them thriving till a curtain was drawn over the whole scene ; two gladiators agianst twelve drooling panthers with blood trailing tracks through their jaws. They approached the two determined, and of the gladiators, the one whose face had been spat into, raged and raged as the restless leopards charged at him.   

       He was determined to do a justice even if at the cost of his life. He stood at a spot and kept swinging his sword in the air as his second seconded him. There was a hankering hush amongst the audience as all, even Ja Lia stood up to see what would happen next. The leopards charged and the swinging swords ate into several parts of their bodies. At a glance, six leopards were down. Not bad! They kept the art on but one of the leopards maneuvered and had the seconded killed. Twas then four to one. That gladiator knew he'd die. He knew death was calling at him, but he needed entourage. Four wouldn't be bad, and he had his wish.

        Ja Lia was simply stuned. Enraptured by the marred moment!