#nasir

Agron looked ready to protest, but Nasir did not give him the chance. He turned on his heel and headed once more for the shadow of the ludus wall to await Diona’s arrival. 

When she stepped out with her minder in tow, Nasir easily fell in step beside her. The guard, the same one as the prior day, obviously didn’t care about Nasir’s presence. It wasn’t unusual for slaves to speak to one another when they were sent to the market. It was one of the luxuries of being a slave allowed past the house’s walls. 

“Did you find the name of the Germanic warrior housed within the ludus?” Nasir asked without fanfare.

She gave him a sharp look before rolling her eyes. “Yes, I did. Any threats you may have ready upon your tongue are not needed.”

Nasir tried not to take offense. She wasn’t wrong to think he would resort to them again should she prove unwilling, but he had not forgotten her words from the prior day. If he could obtain the information without equating himself to the Romans once more, he would certainly choose that path. “And?”

“Your dominus should know that mine is unlikely to sell him. He provides my dominus with ample entertainment even now, before setting foot upon the Colosseum sands. Batiatus’ desire to see him fight beside his brother would need to be great and reflected in the coin he’d propose.”

“So it is Duro.”

“Yes,” she admitted, though she seemed bitter to do so. Perhaps Diona believed Nasir or his dominus would take their frustrations at being unable to acquire Duro for relatively cheap out on her. 

Nasir couldn’t help glancing back in the direction of where Agron was hopefully waiting near the ludus. Agron would be overjoyed, though Nasir questioned what state they would find Duro in when they finally breached the walls. Would he be able to fight? Entertainment for a Roman, especially one of a standing such as Cossutius, could mean a great many things. 

“Gratitude, for the information you have provided. Duro, he still stands whole?” Nasir dared to ask. “My dominus would not be keen to pay for a damaged slave.”

“As far as word has reached my ears. A bit beaten, as all new recruits are, but there have been no whispers of injury or punishment exceeding what is to be expected. As I said, he is boisterous.” Diona shook her head as if recalling a specific incident. “I do warn you, your dominus may not find him as manageable once he is reunited with his brother. He spoke as if the man were a god when he was first brought to the ludus and was whipped for his insolence.”

It did sound as if Agron and Duro were cut from the same cloth. Nasir may be hard pressed to guide them to escape from Roman reach instead of burning a path to freedom. They had been lucky so far but the goddess would only favor them so far. Eventually she would abandon them and the brother and Nasir would stand little chance against an army. 

He nodded his thanks. “I shall inform my dominus of such before I make an approach on his behalf to yours so as to not waste time or words.”

Agron snorted, shaking his head sadly. “Duro’s mind is not one to lend itself to reason.”

Nasir squeezed Agron’s shoulder again. From the stories Agron had told of his brother, he could not disagree. Duro sounded impulsive and young, and frankly Nasir was surprised he had not fallen upon the battlefield prior to their capture. Perhaps it was cruel of him to think so, but many experienced warriors died at the hands of Romans. He was not a slight man either from Agron’s description, and so speed would not have been his given quality. “We shall see on the morrow if the man stands Duro. For now, it is best we rest. Either we must prepare an escape or a long journey to Capua, whatever the sun brings.”

Convincing Agron to wait for him to traverse Rome a second time was near impossible, but Nasir managed it. Or rather, he thought he had, until he was approaching the gates of the ludus and felt an intent presence behind him. Agron wasn’t quite quick enough to duck around a corner before Nasir saw him, and he abruptly stopped. After a quick scan of the pre-dawn crowd, Nasir hurried to where Agron lingered. 

“What madness has overtaken you?” Nasir demanded, keeping his voice low as to not attract unwanted attention. “You were to wait for my return, as agreed.”

“I would see if it stands Duro myself!” Agron snapped. His eyes shifted towards the ludus gates and Nasir shoved him back until they rounded the corner. It was only Agron’s own distraction which allowed it, much to Nasir’s frustration. He was so weak as a mortal. If he still was a meliae, he would have been able to trap Agron at their camp until his return.

Nasir reached out and grasped Agron by the shoulder. “Your brother was a warrior too. Take comfort that the Romans would not see such talent wasted once acquired if provided a choice. They would wish for him to entertain them upon the sands.”

He knew he spoke of a bitter type of hope. That Duro endured the harsh training of a gladiator at the hands of a ludus’ doctore just to be turned upon the sands in front of hundreds of jeering Romans to face man or beast for survival.

Still, Agron leaned into Nasir’s touch as he caressed his gladius. His voice was thick when he spoke and Nasir was struck by just how young Agron was compared to Nasir’s centuries. Duro would stand even younger. “He was capable enough upon a battlefield but overeager like a pup. I fear such traits are not well suited for a gladiator.” 

There was nothing for Nasir to say to him. Agron was likely correct in his assessment. The gladiators Nasir had seen survive years within a ludus were either incredibly gifted with their chosen weapon, or measured and patient nearly to a fault. Eagerness turned to rash decisions upon the sands and Nasir had seen plenty fall quickly to mediocre gladiators where otherwise they may have prevailed while attending the games with his dominus centuries prior.

To no surprise of Nasir, when he finally returned to Agron, the man was pacing around their encampment like one of the Coliseum's creatures in their cages. Nasir was slow in his approach towards the small campsite. Agron’s impatience and irritation could easily result in a sword swung without thought.

“Agron,” Nasir spoke as he stepped into the fire's light.

Immediately Agron turned to face him, his hand on the hilt of his gladius. He let his hand fall from the blade but his face remained stiff. “What caused delay? Do you have news of Duro?”

“I spoke with a slave auctioneer, and the slave of a ludus. There is a Germanic owned by the house, though I know not if it stands Duro. I must return with the sun to speak with the slave again.” Nasir’s words did little to soothe the agitation evident in Agron’s body. 

Agron seemed intent on turning Nasir around and being led directly back upon the path he’d taken from the ludus. “Why does it matter if it is Duro or not? Should we not free the gladiators? They would provide additional strength in our search for Duro.”

“And rain down Rome’s wrath upon us. We lose stealth, and for what? One gladiator might be able to slip unnoticed from Rome’s gaze. An entire ludus – should they join us in our search – would draw unwanted attention.” Nasir warned. “It stands unlikely many would survive the attempt to leave the house. Most likely, the guards would seal the gates and kill us all.”

The reality of the situation seemed to deflate Agron and he fell silent for a while. Nasir served himself some of their meager meal, made from foraged plants and a stolen hen, before he sat beside where Agron had dropped himself upon the ground. “The slave spoke of a boisterous Germanic. There stands hope that it is Duro.”