by Tanya Bird
‘I heard Nerva tell Mother the coin is all gone. Everything. Four years of savings, gambled away.’
Ah, Nerva and his enormous mouth. Her own disappointment was bad enough without everyone else’s crushing her. ‘Like I said, it is a hiccup.’
Dulcia shot off the bed. ‘I know you think me a child, but I am not. Stop telling me stories.’
Mila rocked backwards, her ribs aching from the tension. ‘I do not think you a child,’ she lied.
‘You do.’ Her sister’s gaze fell. ‘But the fault is mine. I just assumed we would always be together, that you would be grown up enough for both of us. I was wrong—I see that now.’ A tear betrayed her and she brushed it away with an angry finger.
Mila put the soup down on the tray, then stood and pulled her sister to her, ignoring the pain. ‘They are not stories. I am buying my freedom, and then I am coming back for you.’
Dulcia’s arms went around her, squeezing much harder than Mila could cope with. She was about to mention it when she felt her sister’s chest expand, the way it did before releasing a giant sob.
‘Promise me,’ Dulcia said, sucking in a breath. ‘Promise me you will come back for us. We will leave Rome. Go and find our uncle, just like we planned.’
Mila pulled back and wiped at her sister’s cheeks. The uncle Dulcia was referring to was their mother’s brother, a legionnaire who had left Rome the year before Tertia had been sold. ‘The uncle who likely does not even know of our existence? He never came looking for her.’
Dulcia’s eyes closed. ‘As long as we are together, it will not matter where we are. We will find work. Every noble house needs a seamstress.’
Mila smiled. ‘You are quite right. Mother would be much sought after with her skills.’ She glanced at the unfinished pile of mending. ‘Me, not so much.’
The thought of finally being free, to then go on suffocating in the same city that had confined her all those years, did not sit well with Mila. She had always imagined fleeing its walls first chance she got. Their mother had told them endless stories of quaint villages, open fields painted with flowers, peach trees bursting with fruit and air so clean it could heal a dying man. That was one of the worst parts about being born a slave—Mila had no before life to be nostalgic over, relying solely on her mother’s childhood memories.
The sound of a throat being cleared made them both turn. Nerva’s head poked through the curtain, his eyes going to the tray where the soup and bread sat. Not the white fluffy kind he enjoyed, but the panis sordidus brought for the rest of the household.
‘Is your sister still bringing you food? You really are taking advantage of her.’
Dulcia smiled. ‘I do not mind. But I do have other chores to do.’ She looked shyly up at Nerva. ‘Someone has to do Mila’s share of the work.’
Mila went to swat her and winced as pain shot through her chest.
‘Serves you right for trying to hit her,’ Nerva said, stepping into the small room. ‘Run, Dulcia. I can spoon-feed your sister.’
Dulcia rushed from the room, smiling at her feet.
When she was gone, Nerva turned to look at Mila. ‘I am not actually going to spoon-feed you by the way, but I will sit here and watch you spill it all over yourself.’
Mila sat on the bed and picked up the bowl. ‘I can eat just fine,’ she said, shovelling the soup into her mouth.
Nerva sat also, studying the rug that hung on the wall to cover the cracks that were growing on it. ‘The physician says tomorrow you will be all right for light duties.’
‘Thank the gods,’ Mila said, scooping up the last of the hot liquid. ‘I am going out of my mind cooped up in here.’
Nerva looked at her then. ‘How are you feeling? I am not referring to your broken ribs, or your hideous facial injuries. About leaving?’
She shrugged. ‘Probably how you imagine I am feeling. I will be fine, but I worry about Dulcia.’
He hesitated. ‘How much do you know about Prisca Fadius?’
‘Only what I have seen of her.’ The truth was she did not want to know any more because she was struggling to keep herself together as it was.
He frowned. ‘She is a very powerful woman from a very wealthy family with a rather scandalous past.’
Mila placed the empty bowl on the tray. ‘Lucky she is wealthy, then.’
‘Prisca Fadius is the daughter of Celcus Heius.’
She thought for a moment. ‘Am I supposed to know who that is?’
Nerva shook his head. ‘I will spare you the lesson in politics, but Celcus is a former magistrate. He has since retired to the country.’
‘Great, perhaps I might finally glimpse the countryside after all. So what was the great scandal?’
‘Everything is hearsay. Best I not repeat it.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Of course it is.’ She studied him. ‘Will you really not tell me?’
A smile flickered. ‘I will tell you one thing involving Remus.’
Mila felt something pinch inside of her. ‘Remus?’
He leaned his elbows on his knees, glancing at the curtain. ‘It is only rumour, and he was a slave at the time.’
‘At the time of what?’ She gripped the edge of the bed.
‘Of their affair.’
She swallowed. ‘Oh.’ She tried not to let her disappointment show. ‘Well, that makes sense. He was a gladiator, and she is beautiful. What man would say no to her?’
‘One with honour?’ Nerva suggested.
She did not know why, but she felt defensive on Remus’s behalf. ‘We cannot enslave men and then lecture them on honour.’
Nerva exhaled. ‘All right, I take it back.’
She thought for a moment. ‘I am surprised Jovian lets Remus into his house if he is aware of the rumours.’
‘I do not have all the answers, but he would not be the first husband to turn a blind eye to his wife’s indiscretions.’
A question rose in Mila’s throat. She fought against it and failed. ‘Does Remus still… visit her bed?’
Nerva smiled. ‘Why? Does it bother you?’
‘Why would it bother me?’ she shot back.
‘Because you like him, and I suspect it is mutual.’
She blinked. ‘A man like Remus is not going to look twice at a slave girl like me after tumbling about in Prisca Fadius’s fine… bed linen.’
Nerva laughed. ‘Look at you, so plainly jealous.’
‘I am not jealous. I just do not fancy the idea of Remus being invited into her bed and having to fan them in the act. Or any other man, for that matter.’
‘Honestly, the vulgarity that comes from your mouth.’
She looked down.
Noticing, he said, ‘For the record, Remus would look twice at a slave girl like you. Why else would he harass me with messages enquiring after you?’
She looked up at that, searching his face for signs he was teasing. ‘He has sent you messages?’
He nodded. ‘Many.’
She waited, and when he did not offer anything further, she asked, ‘And did you reply?’
Nerva tilted his head in a manner that suggested she should know better. ‘Of course I replied. He asked after your injuries. I told him your face now resembles the man who had been half-eaten by the bear prior to your big moment in the arena, and that both your front teeth are missing.’
She would have hit him if she had not been in so much pain. ‘You paid him a fee to look out for me. I suppose it is part of his service to ensure I lived through it.’
‘I paid the fee to Julius. I doubt Remus saw any of it.’ His face turned serious. ‘You know, he was the first person to reach you. He carried you out of the arena himself, waiting for no one. I am grateful.’
It was the first time she had heard of any of this. ‘Oh’ was all she said.
Nerva cleared his throat. ‘So now when you are fanning him in the act, perhaps you could show some gratitude.’
She picked up the pillow behind her and hurled
it at him. A sharp intake of breath followed as a stabbing pain shot through her ribs.
‘The physician says you are ready for light duties, not combat.’
She breathed through the pain. ‘Be thankful I will not be around once I am healed.’
Nerva’s smile faded and he looked down at his hands. ‘Jokes aside, it will be rather dull around here without you. Who will get me into trouble?’
Mila studied him. Though they would never admit it, they were siblings being separated, and she felt the pain of it as much as she did with her sister. ‘Is that your way of saying you will miss me?’
He looked at her, his mouth turning up. ‘I suppose it is.’
She leaned forwards and covered one of his hands with her own. ‘Will you take care of Dulcia for me?’
He nodded. ‘Of course.’
Removing her hand and straightening, she said, ‘I will come back for them. I will buy their freedom as soon as I am able.’
He drew a long breath. ‘You never stop.’
‘I will stop when I am free or dead.’
He watched her. ‘Have you ever asked your mother if she wants to leave?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘What do you mean? Of course she wants to leave. She is not here by choice.’
‘I know. But your mother has lived in this house since she was fifteen years old. She has had a good life here, has been well provided for by my father—’
‘I know all this, but she is still a slave.’
His expression was conflicted, as though unsure whether to continue the conversation. ‘I am not sure you actually understand how it is for common people in this city. It is not an easy life. Your mother would need to marry or work twice as hard as she currently does in order to afford housing and food and all the other expenses that she never has to worry about.’
Mila stood. ‘Listen to yourself. We slaves have it easy in your household, is that it?’
He stood also. ‘That is not what I am saying.’
She let out a slow breath to calm herself. ‘I thank you for your insights. I will be sure to keep them in mind when I am weighing up whether a free life is the right choice for my family. Now if you do not mind, I have mending to finish before I am sold off like a fine pig.’
Nerva stared at her, his expression one of pity, before turning and leaving the room.
Mila felt her face collapse but caught herself before it turned into anything more. She lowered herself onto the bed, already missing him, and Dulcia, and her mother. Perhaps even the cook, who, despite her vile nature, had always given Mila the outer layer of bread because she knew Mila loved the crust.
Staring at the gently swaying curtain, she drew a shaky breath and reminded herself that everything would be fine.
It was just a small hiccup, and she had a plan.
Chapter 11
It was the middle of the day. Remus and Felix sat in the mess hall, eating poached fish and stale bread. They did not complain, because food at Ludus Magnus was prepared by someone else, and they were free to go elsewhere if they wished.
The gladiator school was home to hundreds of gladiators, trainers, and slaves who kept the place running. Remus knew many of them, trained some of them and drank with a few of them.
Felix was one of those people, and he could hold his drink better than men four times his size. The dwarf had come from a noble family, turning his humiliating existence into a life he rather enjoyed. People still laughed at him, but in the arena it was different; he controlled people’s reactions and had a steady stream of women visitors to show for it. While his family had been quick to disown him, he was still a civilian, free to come and go as he pleased. He took the oath he had made as seriously as any other man, despite the fact that he had no intention of ever fighting to the death. Luckily for him, he was too difficult to replace, and the crowd adored him. No spectator would wish him dead.
‘You were rather harsh on Fausta this morning,’ Felix said.
Remus did not even look up from his food. ‘She likes to be pushed.’
Felix tore a piece of bread and soaked up the liquid on his plate. ‘Perhaps I am getting soft in my old age.’ Looking at Remus, he added, ‘Or you are getting meaner.’
Remus pushed his plate away and looked up. ‘You done?’
A slave girl stepped up to the table and snatched up the empty plate.
Felix put his bread down and rested his arms on the table. ‘All right, let’s have it. What is the matter with you?’
Remus glanced at the noisy table of men next to them. ‘Why would you ask that?’
‘Because this morning you had everyone running laps, something you do when you are angry.’
‘No, it’s something I do when our fighters are unfit. Maybe I should have you run laps.’
‘Run laps?’ Felix’s face twisted in horror. ‘What? In case the others do not have enough reasons to ridicule me?’ He exhaled. ‘I think you have taught Fausta her lesson. Time to move on.’
Remus pretended not to understand. ‘Who says I’m teaching her a lesson?’
‘You are punishing her for doing her job, and doing it well. It is not her fault she was matched with the slave girl you have taken a fancy to.’
‘Are you drunk already?’
‘I wish I were.’
Remus stretched his neck from side to side. ‘Fausta didn’t have to break her ribs. She’d already won.’
‘There you go. Was that really so difficult?’
Remus cast a warning glance at him.
‘So she got carried away,’ Felix continued. ‘Ribs heal. I would know, since I believe I have broken every one of mine.’
‘That’s your reply? Ribs heal?’
Felix shrugged. ‘What do you want to hear? Do I think it was dirty? Unnecessary? Sure.’
‘Exactly. I should’ve said no to the whole thing.’
‘It was not up to you. She is not your slave.’ Felix studied him. ‘How is the girl? I know you have made enquiries after her.’
‘That was weeks back,’ came his reply. ‘Nerva told me she was confined to her bed, complaining but healing nicely.’
The truth was he had thought of nothing else since the day it had happened. He could not shake the memory of standing over her unconscious body, too scared to touch her. Then remembering how rough the men on their way over would be with her, he had bent and scooped her up in his arms.
Too light for the arena.
Something had shifted inside him as he carried her lifeless body across the sand. A floodgate had opened, and he had been trying to close it ever since. He found himself looking for her every time he visited the market. Perhaps he had even visited the market for the sole purpose of running into her.
‘I imagine Rufus Papias is not happy about the whole thing.’
Remus’s foot bounced beneath the table. ‘Nerva said nothing of it.’
‘Unsurprising, as it is family business. Hopefully they skipped the lashings upon seeing the state of her face.’
Felix picked up the bread and began eating again while Remus blinked away the vision of Mila’s bloodied face and hair.
‘Does Brutus know you have been sending his slaves to the Papias household for updates?’
‘Probably.’
Brutus let him do as he pleased because he knew Remus could leave any time he wished, and he wanted to keep his best trainer happy. It was no secret that lanistas from other schools came sniffing around the tavern he drank at, hoping to poach him.
‘I see the attraction,’ Felix said, finishing the last of his bread and pushing the plate away. The young slave reappeared next to them, and the empty plate vanished. ‘She is like you when you first entered the arena, unhinged with something to prove.’
‘Fausta’s just doing her job, but I’m unhinged?’
The men at the table near them left and the room fell quiet. Remus stood suddenly, staring down at the table as he thought.
‘What is going on inside that head of y
ours?’ Felix asked.
Remus stepped over the bench seat and headed for the door.
‘Where are you going?’ Felix called after him.
‘Tell Brutus I’ve business to take care of,’ Remus replied over his shoulder.
The plan was simple: he would visit the Papias household, under the pretence of needing to see Nerva, and check on Mila. Nerva seemed to like him, had even admired him at one time, so he was confident he would not be turned away.
He made his way through the busy streets, manoeuvring around merchants and children darting about, ignoring the pleas of their exasperated mothers. Where possible, he took shortcuts through alleyways most people avoided, finally arriving at the Garden of Sallust. From there, he asked a slave for directions and climbed the hill towards the great house.
He stood out front, taking in the wide door and high walls. After a few moments, he ascended the steps and took hold of the iron knocker, tapping it a few times before stepping back. The door swung open and Dulcia appeared from behind it, struggling with the weight. She peered up at him, recognising him but not daring to mention the fact. Too many ears in homes that size.
‘May I help you?’ she asked.
Remus looked past her into the vestibulum, searching for Mila. Empty.
His gaze returned to the girl. ‘My name’s Remus Latinius. I’m hoping to speak with Nerva.’
‘Remus?’ came a voice behind him.
He spun around to see Nerva standing on the bottom step, looking up at him.
‘Are you here to see me?’ Nerva asked, not seeming too surprised.
‘Yes, if you’ve a moment.’
Nerva climbed the steps towards him and glanced at Dulcia. ‘You may close the door. I will be in shortly.’
The girl glanced at Remus before pushing the heavy door closed.
‘That was Dulcia, Mila’s sister,’ Nerva said, coming to a stop next to him.
‘I see the resemblance,’ Remus replied, not wanting to raise questions by admitting they had met before.
‘I thought having her answer the door would help her shyness.’
‘How’s that working out?’
