Orange Inn Stories: September 2020

Sunday 20 September 2020

I'm going home

Over the next two weeks I saw Fortu regularly, he'd become the current favourite of the rich and powerful.

It was considered high prestige to have the festival winner attend whatever event was being held, he became an object to be flaunted, the current must have accessory. I could see how bemused he was with it all, as awkward in company as he was adept in the sands. Although he was fawned over and feted he was never accepted, there was laughter and disdain behind his back. Fortu realised that he would never be accepted as free, he would always be that foreign ex-slave.

All fashions end and soon the invites dried up and Fortu was cast adrift, no gladiator house to return to and no actual money. Free men could not fight in the official gladiator fights, very poor precedent should a slave kill a 'superior' freeman. So without any other skills he looked to the unofficial fights.

These fights were just as popular as the official ones, but populated by desperate people in need of gold. There was always a small winners purse but most gold was earned from the wagers. By this stage Fortu and I had met several times and I liked to think he appreciated that I was not like all the rest and somewhat trustworthy. So he approached me to arrange the terms for him to fight. With his stake being his silver freedom disc I explained his rewards could also be valued items.

His fight was arranged; a fight between Fortu, a warrior called Dion and two black bears laid on by the house. Dion was grizzled old fighter with a patch over an eye and the gleam of revenge in the other. Although now free, as a slave he'd sired Koil and Roth.

The fight was brutal but short, the bears were half staved and beaten and Dion was an experienced but aged pit fighter. Fortu was at his peak, he'd taken to using a net along side his bastard sword and even though he'd been living richly had never stopped training. Dion over eager, over-extended and became entangled in the net. Pulled off balance and into the path of a bear. Even as he's chest was being ripped open his thumbs plunged into the bears eyes. The other bear catching scent of the fresh blood began savaging the dead Dion. The rules of the fight were that only one living could leave the pit. So Fortu, with obvious reluctance, finished off both the blinded and distracted bears.

To the victor goes the spoils, Dion had put up a fine crafted half plate set of armour. Even though he'd been much larger than Fortu the armour fitted perfectly. The house had promised a minor item enchantment which Fortu used to strengthen his Freedom medallion.

Fortu had never really understood the baying blood lust of the watching crowds, how anyone could relish the violence and viciousness. He was now thoroughly sickened by their glee at watching an aged fighter and two maltreated animals die. As we walked away from the pit he turned to me vowing that he would never again fight for other peoples pleasure and that he needed to leave this country where men were enslaved and forced to fight. "It's time to go home"