Retiarii Walks the passage towards the Gate of Light. Short tunic covers not his long, lithe length. Agile and quick. His life blood dependant on his speed, in this battle to the death. Swaggering walk, a headband to tame unruly hair, his eyes kholled, his lips carmined. No helmet for retiarius. Only loin cloth and padding to protect legs In his right hand a three pronged spear of death. The trident. His left clutches the rete. With spear and net and speed, he prays that the gods will grant him glorious victory. The roaring crowd grows silent. A tension fills the air. Oiled body honed and ready. A cup of wine, A trumpet blast, thunderous applause ‘Usque ad mortem’ - To the death. Into the Arena. |