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that in its prime it could seat some three thousand people all able to
hear a single orator without the aid of artificial amplification.
Senators once debated here before the assembly enacted on a pending
law, but the voices had long since fallen silent.
Carpet and ceramic tile once marked off sections showing the
sixteen regions the old arena represented.
Only the faint remnants of tile could be seen at the center of the
amphitheater now, the wooden podium and carpet long since reclaimed by the
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elements. Only stone benches, some with room enough for two or three delegates, survived the centuries: too tough for rain and cold to rot, and too heavy for scavengers to cart away. Encircling the remains of the Old Arena stood great marble pillars, some toppled and broken others still supporting the enclosing foyer. The shattered bits of the roof they supported now lay scattered across the stone foundation below. Weeds grew up between the cracks in the pavement and a few trees forged their way into the circle of pillars, reclaiming nature’s right. No one alive today could reproduce the architecture of these buildings. When the civilization fell during a time called the Fall of Nations, the memory of its people, its knowledge, its technology, and its history fell as well. In its place grew myths and legends like the trees that grew up from its fallen ruins.
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Scroll 1: History's Mirror Chapter 1: Treasures from the Past |
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Copyright 2001 by Darrell A. Newton, All
Rights Reserved.
For problems or questions regarding this web contact me [
Email].
Last updated: December 10, 2001.
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