by Jim Osborn

Created on: June 02, 2007

Flavius stood breathlessly still. Was he hearing what he thought he was hearing? They were talking about assassinating Caesar! The Emperor had not been popular of late with many members of the Senate. Many people thought he had a "god complex" and talked openly against him. Perhaps Caesars enemies felt the time was ripe to act.

The Senate was still reeling over the cost of Caesar's conquest of Gaul and the loss of lives it had cost Rome. Even though the cost of the war was staggering Rome had benefited greatly financially as well by acquiring such a vast amount of territory and resources.

But Caesar had made many enemies over the last few years and had done little to try and smooth things over with his opponents; in fact he had taken any and all opportunity to further enrage them with insults and slights.

Flavius was terrified. If the conspirators heard him he was a dead man for sure. What ill fate had put him of all places here tonight in harms way. The Coliseum had seen a busy day and many servants had been busy restoring it to order.

Being in charge of maintenance, it was his duty to ensure that everything was in order for the next day's festivities. It was late and the complex should have been deserted and quiet. But instead the plotters had chosen to meet here thinking it would be abandoned at this hour.

Flavius could no longer remain motionless and turned and started to slip away unnoticed. His fatal mistake however was forgetting that the arena had been built to accommodate thousands and therefore had been purposely constructed to resonate sounds throughout the auditorium

Flavius's boots made a minuscule scraping noise as he tried to slip away, the sound amplified loud enough to be heard by the two shadow talkers. The groundskeeper knew that he had given away his presence and made no further attempts at stealth, he just bolted for his life.

He could hear startled voices and then one person fleeing in the opposite direction and one heavy-footed individual giving chase. If he could just get away he could warn Brutus whom he had served for many years before being recruited for this position of this treachery. Brutus was Caesar's closest friend and associate and would see that the Emperor was protected.

The Coliseum was a huge structure and Flavius was not a young man. The relentless pursuer was closing fast and Flavius was almost spent. His lungs burned and he was gasping for breath. His only chance was to try and catch the man unaware. He pulled a dagger out from beneath his tunic and prepared to give a good account of himself.

Flavius quickly turned and brandished his weapon and met the surprised attacker head on! He savagely slashed at the much larger man and scored a slash across the man's ribs. The man had a short sword in his hand and raised it up high to strike at him.

Flavius had the better position and had his dagger pointed directly at his opponents gut and prepared to deal a deathblow. The figure standing in front of him could be clearly seen in the moonlight, and Flavius froze as he recognized his assailant.

That fraction of a second was all the larger man needed and he brought his sword down unmercifully upon Flavius and stabbed him directly in the chest. Flavius slumped to the floor of the Coliseum with his lifeblood-spilling out, just like the thousands of defeated gladiators over the many blood years.

The killer pulled his sword free and knelt down beside the stricken man. Flavius glanced up into the familiar face of Brutus and couldn't believe it; Caesar was being betrayed by his dearest friend. The last image Flavius saw was the sad look on the face of his murderer and heard him mumble, "I'm so sorry my old faithful servant."

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