The Game Room 02, Mace and Marble

Greg and Veronica were stacking the dishwasher. "How would you like onion soup for tomorrow?"

"Well it's an awful lot of trouble, and it's my turn to cook," replied Greg.

"Oh, I'll cook, I think you are ahead a meal or two."

"It's still too much trouble, what else sounds good?"

"In the way of easy, there's cream of mushroom soup. Several brands to choose from... ."

.

The next evening, savory smells drew Greg to the kitchen early. He found Roni a bit overdressed, and nudged her shoulder to shoulder. "What's up with the fancy clothes?" he asked. She had on a gray cotton knit sweater, a black knit skirt, and medium heels.

She beamed and reached for her purse, a slim black one with a long thin strap. "Springsteen tickets for The Center tonight! An easy supper was well advised."

"Wow!" Greg smiled from ear to ear. "How did you manage that?"

"Early morning watch at the computer on the day they went on sale!" Roni replied.

"OK! Lets eat, and let's get going! Hey, the mushroom soup is right out of the can, isn't it?"

"Oh yes, Greg. That time with the onion soup—I felt that I had no choice."

"So you have said. I trust you, and I won't press."

Soon enough they were entering the parking lot at The Center. Into the building and past the ticket-takers, they were heading around the concourse when Greg paused and looked around. "Nearest men's room? One stop should get me through the night."

"Let's go to our seats first." Roni answered.

They continued around the concourse, then turned into the tunnel toward their seats. Just as they cleared the tunnel and were about to look for their seats, a blinding light struck them. "Zzzzzzz—slap! slap! slap!" Roni's head darted around, Greg's fell to his chest.

"It wasn't me!" Roni spoke clearly, just loudly enough for Greg to hear.

The Daughters of Jerusalem, all color, cladding and contrast, filled most of the north half of the Colosseum under a noon time summer sun. That fast, Roni and Greg were in Rome. The Daughters' greeting was far from reassuring, the unsurety of the proceedings being guaranteed—some unreasonable game. The Colosseum itself was all decked out and polished, definitely in its early life, with marble, awnings, cages and trap doors all in place.

Roni and Greg were on the marble Senate podiums to the west of the Vestal Virgins' corral, which was on the south side of the oval. They slowly turned toward the east and saw the Queen of Sheba and Joan of Arc near the place of the Vestal Virgins. No shimmering transformations this time; they felt as if they'd been thrown to the lions, or were about to be.

"Testing time!" Sheba announced shortly. "Greg, you are frozen!"

"Bu—!" Greg was frozen.

"What test? Who?" Roni blurted, but she was interrupted.

"Wham!" A trap door in the arena slammed open, and a monstrous man in plate armor and a helmet, carrying a shield and a mace clamored out into the arena, heading straight for Roni. The arena wall seemed surmountable by him, but there was no further word from the Queen. Nervously, Roni kicked her heels over to Greg and tossed her handbag after them. The monster kept coming, yet still no word from Sheba.

Finally the Queen of Sheba spoke, "These tests are so fast paced, there is no time for running commentary by Joan. She is umpire only today. At your leisure, Joan."