![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
reviews_and_ramblings
Let's Get Medieval: The Tortured Secutor & The Bishop of Grunewald by Jardonn Smith Release Date: January 6, 2009
Publisher: CreateSpace
ISBN-10: 1441402209
ISBN-13: 978-1441402202
Publisher Link: http://www.amazon.com/Lets-Get-Medieval-Jardonns-Grunewald/dp/1441402209/
Amazon: The Tortured Secutor (A Boner Book)
Amazon: Let's Get Medieval: Jardonn's Erotic Tales - Two Books In One - The Tortured Secutor - The Bishop Of Grunewald
Blurb: The Tortured Secutor is set in 270 AD Rome, where a gladiator freed by an emperor becomes entangled in a web of murder and extortion. He's taken prisoner and tortured by the evil patrician behind the plot. His only hope is with the man who loves him, a physician at the Ludus Magnus, gladiatorial training facility at the Flavium Amphitheatrum. Good citizens are hard at work in an effort to save their tortured secutor, if he can hold out long enough for them to put their plan to action.
In this excerpt, a scene from the Amphitheatrum Flavium, where Philo as a retiarius (the netter) and Ovid as a secutor (the fish) do battle on a day celebrating the 200-year anniversary of the Colosseum. Your narrator is Artimos, a member of the staff, lead physician for the Ludus Magnus, Rome's gladiatorial training facility.
Excerpt:
No seat in the Amphitheatrum was occupied. Every Roman present including Emperor Aurelian stood silent, as did we, the staff. Everybody held breath in order to hear the breaths of two gladiators, their mighty chests heaving, their powerful bellies expanding and retracting. Shade covered these warriors, but not from awnings. Those had all been rolled into their masts, the sun having slipped beneath the western perimeter wall, leaving no more than a one-quarter sliver of light on the arena floor. By schedule and design, this match should have ended long ago. By now, Ovid should have taken his accolades and citizens taken their leave from the Amphitheatrum, but we Romans were unconcerned with this. Two heroes were doing battle. Two heroes fought with an intensity of evenly-matched skills rarely seen. Two heroes were giving us their all, and nobody had any intentions of going anywhere.
"From where do you swim, fish?"
"I come from Thebes. From where do you fish, fisherman?"
"Macedonia, fish. I believe the Romans envy us."
"True, fisherman. They wish to be Greek."
"We should honor them as they honor us."
"Fight like Greeks?" asked Ovid.
"Are we not Greek?" asked Philo.
"True. And we are without Roman weapons." Ovid looked beyond Philo's shoulder, saw his sword in the far distance. Philo looked left, saw his trident as a faraway stick. He turned right, saw his dagger as a speck.
"I have no strength to retrieve mine, fish."
"Your net is cut, netter."
"Useless. Join me, fish. Strip yourself naked. Let us enjoy what sunshine remains for us. We will fight as men, not fish and fisher."
"Agreed."
Both gladiators sat on their buttocks removing their sandals, arm protectors and metal greave. As one they rose to their feet. Ovid lifted his helmet, exposing his wet-matted, brownish-blond hair. He dropped his helmet. Dropped his leather loin cover, as Philo cast aside his tattered net. He accepted Ovid's offer of shoulder and neck, draping his arm across his opponent for support, and then, together, both men made their way for the narrow band of sunlight.
Argo, the referee, looked to his Emperor for guidance. Would such a violation of protocol be allowed?
Aurelian scanned his throngs of subjects, studying faces, listening for cries of protest. There were none. The arena was so quiet that the only sounds came from gladiator feet moving across arena floor sand. With a nod of his head, Emperor Aurelian approved.
The Amphitheatrum erupted as Ovid hobbled and Philo hopped, their manly sweat squishing between their naked bodies, and as they reached daylight two Greek warriors fought without weapon and without costume. They wrestled. They dealt and absorbed blows of forearms, kicks of feet, mixing their blood and their sweat with arena sand in a glorious display of masculine strength, perseverance and beauty. Ovid and Philo did battle for the Romans. They did battle for their Emperor, for the Flavians and Julio-Claudians and every line of Roman Emperor since the Empire's birth. They battled for their Greek ancestors, their Greek gods and Greek mortals and Roman gods and Roman mortals. Ovid and Philo did battle until all of the Amphitheatrum was consumed by shadow and wonder and reverence for these two unyielding combatants, and neither Philo nor Ovid abandoned their battle until exhaustion, dehydration and loss of blood rendered them useless, until the entirity of them lay sacrificed to the arena floor.
"It is done, Ovid."
"Agreed, Philo."
And with both men sprawled on their backs gasping for air, two index fingers simultaneously pointed to the greying heavens, two naked warriors conceded their fates.
No Roman spoke. No Roman moved. Every Roman remained standing, listening, as two manly groans accompanied each exhale of breath. These sounds lifted from the arena floor to the seats and walls of the Amphitheatrum, through its arched entryways and into the streets of Rome. No witness to gallantry could approach this. No written or rumored accounts of bravery and sacrifice in the arena could compare, and the first word spoken by any Roman was not mitte, but liberare.
It started in the upper tiers amongst the plebeians. Within seconds it became a unifying chant in volume to crumble stone: Liberare! Liberare! Liberare!
Of course Aurelian would set them free. He would have done so regardless, but this historic moment had to be savored. He allowed the chant to continue, its volume increasing until eardrums ached. This was a good ache, a spirit-lifting ache. After all, the sole purpose of the games was to lift spirits, a time for an Emperor's subjects to temporarily forget their problems and their hatreds of one tribe or another, their discontent with him or his government or their tax burdens or any other wrongs from trifling to serious they felt he'd brought upon them. Citizens who'd witnessed this day's events would cherish these memories for the rest of their lives. Aurelian would forever value the performance given him by Ovid, the Annihilator, and Philo, the Macedonian.
