WARNING! Blood and violence; but no yiff.

This story was influenced very much by the writings of Rosmary Sutcliff, a British writer who wrote many stories about Britian before, during and after Roman occupation.

Hibernian is an old word for Irish. The Romans never conquered Ireland (Hibernia) but there were trading links between the Hibernian tribes and the tribes of Britian before ever the Romans appeared on the scene.

Roman Circus

In the days before the Romans ever came to Britain, the painted tribes of that rugged land ruled themselves. When the Romans did come, the frontier tribes of the west and north were those that resented their coming most bitterly, for the tribes of the south had long been influenced in Roman ways and so to them there was only a token transition to Roman rule. They rejoiced in bath houses, straight roads and stone built forums and so forgot the ways of their own people and grew fat on the riches of Rome. In time, they turned as well from the old gods, the old sun and earth worship, to fall instead at the feet of the Roman gods.

But though the tribes of the south were easily enough vanquished, the tribes of the north were fiercer and older and had more of the magic and old ways of the Lordly Ones in them. And though the Romans sore tired to keep what little they had won in the north, they eventually fled behind their strong stone walls and contented themselves instead with fortifying their lines. And the hidden lochs and glens and mountains were once again belonging to the tribes....

The torches flickered in the long changing rooms under the gladiators school, jinking on the long rows of helmets and racks of swords and spears, throwing up the shadow of a plumed crest here and there and the shifting shadows of the people moving about on the walls. The stink of the animal cages was close by and the musk of fur and sweat closer by. The atmosphere was close, tense and from the cages came the clang and shift of animals pacing restlessly.

Dergian sat on one of the low benches ranged along the walls, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. The light from the nearest torch threw his powerful head into sharp relief, the short dark fur on his muzzle standing out against the gleam. His body was relaxed and his breathing even, the rising and falling of his chest making visible the curling patterns on his fur. Everywhere about him, on chest, flanks, shoulders and even on his brow and muzzle were the curving blue lines that were tattooed into his skin and inked into his fur in the custom of the painted tribes of the north. For those that had the reading of such things, the lines marked him as a warrior of the Berganites, the bearers of the blue shield and among the lines there were also silvery scars. There had lately been a short lasted rebellion in that part of the country; it would seem that the young wolf on the bench was part of the spoils captured when the Romans had stamped it out. It was often the way that those taken were sold into slavery and they usually came by a roundabout way to one of another of the circuses up and down the country; for the warriors of the frontier tribes made bad serving slaves.

Now, in the stinking darkness below the arena circle, Dergian sat with the others of the circus. None of them spoke but listened instead to their own breathing and the murmur of the crowds above. For some, it would be the last time they sat in the dark and listened to their own measured breaths but for most of the others there would be many more times before the last. This was only a small circus and the owner could not afford to use up fighters too fast. A little bloodletting was all that was required to keep the crowds amused.

Many different races were sat in the darkness. Some were brown bears from Gaul, others were lean deer and stags from other part of Britain, a huge stallion who was accounted the strongest of them and many others, fallen from their places all over the Empire. There were even a few tigers, Romans who had lost their citizenship and their honor.

A trumpet sounded above them and Thyredes the Captain appeared at the entrance, the light from the torches behind him shining through his thick puma fur.

"Time to gear up lads," he said softly and those on the benches got up and readied themselves with their gear in silence. For Dergian there was no weapon, only the loincloth that he already wore and a tight fitting leather cap to offer his pricked ears some protection. When they had assembled in rough lines Thyredes looked them over from his place in the doorway with grim satisfaction. At a word from him, they marched up the long corridors and out though the doubles doors into the binding sunshine and the roar of the crowd. Marching round the large sandy circle, Dergian held his head proudly high and walked with a stride that was almost a swagger; he had long learned the value of advertising oneself. Flowers and sweets were thrown down on them and he caught a dog rose, flashing the play actors salute and grin up to the fat white rabbit that had thrown it. One circuit round the ground and the salute up to the official's box and they spread out round the circle, behind the perimeter fence and under the shadow of the stand walls.

The first item was a fight between hounds and a bear. Not a bear such as those he had waited with under the arena but a wild animal bear, caught from the forest. The hounds too were animals, trained to hunt and kill. The bear fought bravely, bringing down six of the twenty before he was brought down in his turn, to a red rending death with the hounds' teeth in his neck. After the body had been dragged away and the remaining hounds returned to their cages, fresh sand was strewn over the blood and the boxers came out. It was a good fight, with the crowd-pleasing blood running from the lips, noses and brows of the fighters.

Then fresh sand was again strewn over the blood and it was Dergian's turn. As he stepped out from the perimeter, raising his arms to the crowd, he saw the slight Hibernian wildcat step out opposite him. Both were clad in the same manner, loincloth and leather cap but it was not each other they were to fight. Instead, they would fight their animal counterparts; a wolf for Dergian and a lynx for the Hibernian tribesman across the ring from him. That was an item that was very popular.

Thyredes strode out to position them, each facing their own dark entrance to the animal pits. In the normal manner of things, neither a wild lynx nor a wolf would attack, preferring instead to keep hidden. But this was not the normal manner of things and the animals coming out to meet them would have been goaded beyond reason by their handlers, till they were willing to kill anything before them.

There was a roar from the crowds and the gates were opened. The wolf was out first, a huge grey creature bristling with anger, its teeth lifted in a snarl and Dergian stooped quickly to coat his sweaty paws with sand to provide himself a better grip. He was scarcely aware of the lynx's entrance or the wimper of the wildcat near him. All his attention was focused on the wolf in front of him, his body tensed to fling himself sideways if the wolf should spring. The wolf was crouched down, hackles up, as tense as he was. Suddenly it sprang and Dergian darted forward to catch it under the belly with his shoulder. The wolf was flung sideways and Dergian was sharply aware that his must at all costs keep away from its sharp teeth and strong jaw, much stronger than his own. His thick fur would offer his some protection from the wolf's sharp claws but not much. Before the wolf had a chance to much recover, he flung himself on it and grasped it by the throat. It snapped and snarled under his paws and its back legs caught him under the ribs and flung him off.

As Dergian fell and rolled he heard a wailing scream from the wildcat. The lynx's teeth were in his shoulder and its claws had torn red gashes in the Hibernian's spotted hide. Even as he rolled up and around to face the wolf again, the lynx's teeth found the wildcat's throat and tore it up and out. Dergian was vaguely aware of the animalistic approval from the crowd and of the handlers dragging the lynx away. The wolf's claws had torn the skin on his flank and he could feel the warm stickiness down his side. As he closed with the wolf again its teeth found his arm and sunk into it. Through the pain his other paw found the wolf's muzzle and clamped around it so the wolf could not release his arm to plant its teeth elsewhere. His own teeth found the wolf's neck and as he bit and tore he could feel wolf's will to live but knew that his own was stronger. His long canines found a large vein and he ripped up and out just as the lynx had moments ago, the taste of blood strong in his mouth. The wolf's struggles grew less and he ripped his arm out, springing out of range. But he needn't have worried; the wolf was already growing still and Dergian felt a pang of regret for this wild creature that had been dragged from its home and made to fight when it did not want to.

Like me, he thought suddenly, like me and then the sand blurred beneath him. The attendants' were dragging him roughly towards the steps down and a voice growled in his ear,

"Wait until we're out of sight to faint, you weak fool!" And he remembered that there was a crowd to please and managed something of a swagger before all but falling down the steps. At the bottom someone caught him and laid him on a bench. He felt the fire of the barley-spirit to cleanse his wounds; then nothing more for a while.