The Gladiator slowly made his way up the ramp into the arena. He was met with cries of exaltation from the crowd. His combatant, a richly looking man dressed in royal white clothing, too made his entrance in the arena and was met with the same chorus of voices. He raised his hands as if praising those who worshipped him. On his head was a crown of gold leaves.
The two advanced on each other, swords in hand. Both intent on killing the other; the gladiator for a crime committed against him, for the emperor, the glory of being victorious; to win the peoples praise.
Sword clashed, blood spewed. The visions were clouded by dust and sand. On could see the sun gleaming off a sword as it slashed at its counterpart. A gentle wind crept up blowing away the dust, revealing the last moments of the two fighters. The gladiator, large and strong had turned the emperors own weapon on the proud, deceitful ruler. The dagger went into the man's throat, his jagged breath rasped twice before it gurgled away forever. The gladiator let the body fall to the ground; he turned from it and gazed at the people. All was quiet, not even the birds of prey that waited for the game to be over so as they could eat the kill were deathly silent.
This gladiator, who was not always thus, was gazing into the sky, like looking into a dream. He swayed where he stood and fell to the ground...dead.

"Nooooo!" the little boy cried from his bed. "Papa!"
"Sweetheart? What's wrong?" a woman's voice came from outside his room.
"Oh mama!" the little boy still cried. "It was terrible! It was awful!"
"There, there, my dear." The woman said as she enveloped the little boy in her gentle arms. "Can you tell me?" she asked.
"It was...papa..." the little boy sobbed in her shoulder, "He had to fight...to live! He had to kill to live! But he died! He died!"
"Hush now." The mother comforted, "Papa is fine, you mustn't worry for him. He comes home tomorrow, remember?"
"But what if...if...something happened?" the boy sniffed, "What if I never see him again?"
"You will see him again..." the woman held her son in front of her and looked him in the eyes. "You hear me? You will see him again...I swear."
She squeezed his shoulders with firm yet kind hands.
The boy still cried, though it was much quieter now.
"Come here little one, come sleep with mama."
The two quietly made it to the large room.

"Hush my sweet, close your eyes...
Don't cry dear one, you're in my arms tonight."

The mother sang.

"Dry your tears, hush your cries...
Be still my love, close your eyes."

The little boy was soon asleep, but his mother lay quietly looking at the moon outside her window. Her eyes showed concern and worry.
"Come home to me Maximus." She whispered into the still dark night.

Outside, the dawn was slowly awaking. If one listened carefully, he might hear on the gentle morning wind, the sound of advancing horses.

FIN.

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