Iulia was dizzy from the blow to the head. The tournament would continue, but she had no interest in seeing what remained. She'd seen enough bloodshed for the day. One of her friends among the common girls wept freely, for her father had been one of the roman legionnaires killed. She tended to the girl as best she could, making her eat something and convincing her other friends to take her out for a spot of shopping and maybe an ale or two and some dicing, or maybe dancing, in the taverns to numb the ache. She knew those youth drank, though they rarely drank more than a bit of wine or ale.
Then she left the games as discreetly as she could. Ran to the shrine to Mercury, said a quick prayer for the dead legionnaires. Sprinted to the palace, gathered her medicines and some food (Fruit and a wineskin, since she knew that the gladiators were kept on bread, water, and grain diets.) and then headed back to the coliseum. "I brought food for the gladiators." she said softly. The guards looked puzzled but let her by.
She headed down the main hall, going half by intuition and half by guesswork, and was rather shocked and pleased when she arrived at the cell of the Celt. She knelt down and passed the food through the bars. "You foolish, brave man. They'll torture you to death for that, you know. Showing the people how monstrous their own games are. But that took courage, and I admire you for it. I brought my medicines. I'm not a great healer, but I'm better than the one they have for the lot of you." She spoke quietly in her hesitant, almost childish Celtic. Well, of course, the boy who'd taught her had been fourteen and an ill-educated slave, and she'd been six, and she'd not really had a use for it since then.