A Gladiator's Oath

by Tanya Bird

  ‘Remus.’

  Remus waited for his opponent to step back before glancing over at the lanista. He was surprised to see Prisca Fadius standing with him. His gaze went past her to where Mila stood with Prisca’s mute bodyguard, watching him with that famous guarded expression of hers. He straightened and looked at Felix to see if the dwarf knew something he did not, but his friend just shook his head. Normally, if Prisca wanted gladiators to entertain, she would send someone else to make the arrangements. His gut told him she was not there to book a show.

  ‘I need a few moments,’ he said to Titus, dropping his weapons on the ground.

  ‘Don’t sell yourself short,’ Titus said with a wink. ‘Take as long as the lady needs.’

  Remus ignored him and walked over to the waiting party, trying not to look at Mila. ‘Lady Prisca, what a pleasant surprise. If you’re here to watch the men train, you’re too late.’

  She wore that devilish smile she reserved just for him. ‘I could always watch you.’ She gestured to his tunic. ‘Though I am most disappointed to find you all covered up.’

  Remus’s gaze went to Mila, who was no longer looking at him. ‘To what do we owe the honour?’

  ‘I need a trainer, a good one.’

  Remus looked at Brutus to gauge his reaction. The lanista was clearly ahead on this one. ‘A trainer for who?’

  Prisca turned and gestured for Mila to step forwards. ‘You remember Mila?’

  Actually, he had spent a great deal of time trying to forget, without success. ‘Yes.’ Their gazes met. ‘You look better than the last time I saw you.’

  ‘Honestly,’ Prisca said, tutting. ‘Matching a slave girl against the best female gladiator in Rome. Rather mean-spirited of you. Though smart business, I imagine,’ she added, glancing at Brutus.

  Remus’s hands rested on his hips and he continued to stare at Mila. Her expression did not change. ‘What are you training her for?’

  ‘The upcoming games at the Flavian Amphitheatre,’ Brutus said.

  Remus looked at him. ‘The games are in six weeks. That’s not enough time.’ The idea was insane, and he would do whatever he could to shut it down.

  ‘That’s enough time with the right trainer,’ Brutus said. ‘You’ve trained men in less.’

  Men who could be replaced, not Mila. But of course, the lanista had already agreed. Prisca had probably offered him a ridiculous sum to do it.

  ‘You agreed to this?’ Remus asked, managing to keep his voice calm and his body still.

  Brutus nodded.

  His jaw worked. ‘And how will it work, exactly?’

  ‘The girl will come every afternoon for the next six weeks, and you will train her as hard as any other gladiator.’

  ‘Harder, I would hope. We do not want a repeat performance of last time,’ Prisca laughed.

  Remus was not laughing. ‘You want me to train her?’ He already had his answer. He was just buying time while he came up with a good reason to shut it down.

  ‘Lady Prisca’s asked for you, but we’ve plenty of good trainers who could work with the girl. Titus is getting good results from gladiators in his charge at the moment,’ he said, turning to Prisca.

  ‘No,’ Remus said, shaking his head. ‘I’ll do it.’ There was no way in hell he was letting Titus near her.

  ‘Excellent,’ Prisca said, clapping excitedly. ‘You will not be disappointed. She is good, but I suspect you already know that.’

  He looked everywhere but at Mila. ‘For someone with no training, she has raw potential.’ He thought he saw her flinch. ‘And what do you get out of this, Lady Prisca?’

  Brutus crossed his arms and rocked on his feet. Prisca kept her gaze trained on Remus, her smile unfailing.

  ‘You know better than anyone how easily I bore.’

  If she was trying to suggest that she had eventually bored of him, she could save her lies. Everything else, sure. He had visited her bed enough times, heard enough complaints about her husband, her children, her empty life. Problems of the wealthy. ‘So she’s your muse?’

  Prisca shifted, drawing attention to her round hips. ‘I need something to look forward to.’

  ‘He’ll train her,’ Brutus said, wrapping up the conversation. ‘Have her here tomorrow afternoon. No time to waste.’

  Remus had no choice. It was him or Titus. ‘Of course.’

  Satisfied, Prisca turned to Brutus. ‘May I have a private word?’

  The lanista nodded and the two of them stepped away to speak in private. The others remained where they were, with plenty of distance between them. Remus took in Mila’s colourful stola and carefully braided hair. She looked tiny next to the large man keeping a trained eye on his domina.

  ‘You all right?’ he asked. It was the first question that came to him.

  She clasped her hands in front of her. ‘Fine, thank you.’

  ‘The ribs?’

  ‘Healing.’

  He nodded and looked away for a moment. ‘You ready for this?’ When she did not immediately reply, his eyes returned to her. ‘You’ll work harder than you ever have.’

  She regarded him. ‘I am not one to shy away from hard work.’

  He took a few steps towards her. ‘How much do you know about her?’ He nodded in Prisca’s direction.

  ‘Why does everyone keep asking me that?’

  ‘Didn’t wonder why she bought you?’

  She glanced at her domina. ‘I know now.’

  Remus moved even closer. ‘The only daughter amid an army of brothers. All centurions. The living ones, anyway. Names of the dead won’t be forgotten.’

  ‘She wanted to be like her brothers?’

  ‘She wanted the glory. The attention. So she entered the arena. Disgraced her family.’

  ‘Was she any good?’

  ‘Maybe the best female at that time.’

  ‘And her father put an end to it?’

  He nodded. ‘He married her off to Jovian, to be tamed.’

  ‘I do not think it worked.’ She swallowed. ‘Did she train here?’

  Another nod. ‘Brutus trained her.’

  ‘Is that how the two of you met?’

  She knew about the affair. He shrugged. ‘I was ten at the time.’

  ‘Oh.’

  He did not need to explain himself to her, but he did anyway. ‘We met again during my fighting years. The best get invites to all the fancy parties.’

  ‘I imagine you met a lot of women in your fighting years.’

  Her cheeks burned despite the tenacious remark. He suppressed a smile. ‘I think she misses the thrill and attention.’

  ‘I can see that.’

  ‘I’m talking about fighting.’

  Another burn of the cheeks. ‘So was I,’ she lied.

  He watched her squirm. ‘What’s she promised you?’

  Her guard went up again. ‘What makes you think she has promised me anything? I just do as I am told.’

  ‘Pfft. When?’

  ‘When there is no choice.’

  A small smile, and the guard slowly came down.

  ‘Can I… trust her?’ she asked.

  That scowl on any other woman would be unflattering. Not on her. ‘Why do you ask?’

  She looked up at Albaus before replying. ‘She has promised me freedom if I win.’

  He frowned. ‘She did?’ He was grateful the bodyguard could not repeat their conversation.

  ‘Just one fight. If I win, she will give me my freedom.’

  ‘After one fight?’ That did not sound right to him. All that coin spent, time invested, for one battle.

  ‘Is she telling the truth?’

  He looked over to where Prisca was watching them. ‘Time will tell.’ His gaze returned to Mila. ‘I’m going to train you hard.’

  ‘You said that.’

  ‘You’ll end each day hating me.’

  Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘If I walk away a freed woman, I will be quick to forgive.’

  He
smirked, but then it faded. ‘She’s chasing the fame she missed out on—the thrill of a win.’

  Mila swallowed. ‘I know.’

  They stared at one another.

  ‘You might get injured. Maybe worse than last time.’

  ‘I know.’ Silence. ‘Will you help me win?’

  His eyes moved over her face. ‘Yes.’

  Before another word could be exchanged, Prisca and Brutus returned, her coin pouch no doubt a little lighter, or a lot lighter if Brutus had his way.

  ‘Let us leave Remus to his training,’ Prisca said, glancing at him. ‘Ensure you push her. By the time she enters the arena, I need her to be the best Rome has to offer.’

  ‘I understand.’

  Only once Prisca had passed him did his eyes return to Mila. He nodded once, and she returned the gesture. The bodyguard gave him a cold stare as he passed.

  When they were out of sight, he linked his hands on top his head and closed his eyes.

  Chapter 14

  The device was similar to a training pell, but it had a wooden blade at head height and another at ankle height. Remus held a rope that made the blades turn.

  ‘Ready?’ he asked.

  Mila looked around the arena, aware of the glances from passing men. No actual fighting, Remus had told her. Not until her skills and fitness were at the level he wanted. She wondered how long that would take.

  ‘Ready,’ she said, shaking her arms in an attempt to let go of some tension.

  Remus pulled the rope and the blades began to spin. She ducked, jumped, ducked and jumped. It was going well, until the blades changed direction. She jumped, then ducked, but took too long getting up. The lower blade crashed into her ankles and she fell backwards onto the ground. Remus stopped the spinning blades with his foot.

  ‘You all right?’ he asked.

  Laughter reached her from the cavea where some of the men had gathered to watch. Even Fausta sat among them, a broad smile on her face.

  ‘I am fine,’ she replied, getting to her feet and brushing sand off her hands.

  Felix strolled over to stand beside Remus. She had not seen the dwarf since she had fought against him.

  ‘If you have come to laugh, then just keep walking,’ Mila said.

  Felix held up his hands. ‘I just got here.’

  Satisfied he was not there to mock her, she glanced at Albaus and Nero, who were leaning against the wall. Thankfully, neither was laughing. Prisca had insisted she take the bodyguard into what she described as a “den of desperate men”, and as Nero was supposed to be learning from Albaus, he had tagged along also.

  ‘Again,’ Remus called to her. ‘Stop worrying about everyone else and focus.’

  She took in his stern expression. He had not said one friendly word to her since she had arrived. ‘Ready.’

  They continued for most of the afternoon. Mila compared the experience to a person tied to a horse and forced to run behind it. It was relentless. Her tunic clung to her skin, and her lungs hurt every time she drew breath. Remus said little, occasionally handing her the waterskin when she was close to collapse. She clutched it with both hands, closing her eyes to savour the cool water against her burning throat.

  ‘Small sips or it’ll come straight back up,’ he said, pulling it from her hands.

  She stood, panting, wanting to empty it and then fall down. But she would never let that happen.

  ‘You did all right,’ Remus said, observing her. ‘Especially without a rest.’

  She leaned on her knees, willing her legs to stop trembling. ‘Was resting an option?’

  His eyes creased at the corners. ‘No.’ He glanced at the sun. ‘You’re done for today.’

  She thanked the gods and wiped her face with her hand. ‘Is there somewhere I can wash?’

  ‘I’ll have someone bring some clean water.’

  She pushed off her knees. ‘I can get my own water.’

  ‘We’ve workers who tend the gladiators.’

  ‘Slaves?’

  He crossed his arms. ‘Some. Mostly boys who wouldn’t last in the arena. Making them useful keeps them alive.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Feel foolish now?’

  She stiffened. ‘No. Do you feel superior?’

  He shook his head but continued to watch her.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Nero can help me.’

  Remus glanced at the young boy standing in Albaus’s giant shadow. ‘Is he like a pet or something?’

  She could not stop her smile. ‘Sort of. I think Prisca wants Albaus to teach him a thing or two, but he is a few years off being much of a protector.’

  Remus nodded. ‘It’s good that Prisca sent Albaus with you.’

  ‘Why?’

  He hesitated. ‘Keep you safe.’

  ‘From you?’

  ‘From this city.’

  She studied him. ‘You know, the biggest threat to a slave is usually in the house they reside in.’

  He shifted. ‘Is that true for you? Are there threats in the Fadius household?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  He blinked. ‘Then your argument doesn’t stand. The men you pass on the streets don’t care if you’re a civilian, slave, or whore. All they see is a pretty girl.’

  She wiped her hands on her tunic. ‘Is that what you see?’

  He glanced back at Felix, who wore an amused expression. ‘I see a gladiator not fit for the arena.’

  She was glad her face was already red from exertion, because she felt a burn in her cheeks and wished she could snatch the question back. ‘It is early days, Remus Latinius,’ she said, turning away and heading for the water. She could feel him watching her.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ he called.

  She nodded, not daring to turn around.

  The following day, the entire city complained about the heat. Horses walked the streets with their heads inches off the ground, people moved at half the regular speed, and the merchants sat in the shade fanning themselves while whinging to their customers.

  ‘Come, Nero. I cannot be late,’ Mila said to the boy who had fallen behind. Albaus turned, waiting for him to catch up. They weaved between a group of old men who stood shouting at one another, something about geese, the words swallowed by the dense air.

  ‘It is too hot,’ Nero said.

  Mila had never heard the boy complain. She glanced over her shoulder at him. Sweat dripped off his face and his cheeks were flushed. She stopped and placed a hand on his head. He was feverish. ‘Do you feel unwell?’

  ‘Just hot,’ he said, unable to tell the difference due to the weather choking him.

  Mila walked over to the closest shopfront and asked the merchant for water. At first he said no, but then Albaus stepped forwards and he begrudgingly went to fetch some.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, handing the cup to Nero.

  He emptied it and handed it back to the man.

  ‘Are you all right to continue?’

  The boy nodded. He never said no to anything. Albaus crouched down and gestured for the boy to climb onto his back. Nero collapsed against the man, wrapping his arms around his thick neck and closing his eyes.

  Mila touched a hand to Albaus’s arm. ‘Thank you.’

  He nodded and began walking.

  When they arrived at Ludus Magnus, Remus was waiting in the arena looking agitated. Catching sight of Mila, he uncrossed his arms and marched towards them, eyebrows drawn together, ready to reprimand her. Then he spotted Albaus carrying Nero and his expression softened.

  ‘What happened?’

  Mila glanced over her shoulder. ‘I think he has a fever. Hard to tell in this weather.’

  Remus nodded and watched Albaus pass. ‘Lay him in the shade. And get some water into him.’ He looked at Mila. ‘He the reason you’re late?’

  ‘It is this heat. Everyone is moving a bit slower today.’

  Remus looked around, everywhere but at her. ‘I want you to run laps until I tell you to stop.’
<
br />   She glanced up at the smouldering sun. ‘You want me to run in this heat?’

  ‘We’ve less than six weeks to get you ready. Do you think you’ll only fight if the weather is pleasant?’

  ‘No, I was—’

  ‘Start running.’

  She crouched to slip off her sandals, aware of his shadow covering her. When she stood, she removed her belt and stola, noticing the way he averted his eyes when she did so. Her tunic, which she normally left on, was already soaked, so she pulled it over her head.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, eyes returning to her.

  ‘Minimising chafing,’ she said, rolling the garments into a ball and tossing them aside.

  His gaze fell to her chest, her bare legs, then away. He cleared his throat. ‘Fine. Go. I’ll be back shortly.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Off you go.’

  ‘You are not going to stay?’ If she was expected to run in the heat, the least he could do was stay in the arena with her.

  ‘Too hot for me,’ he said, turning away.

  She stared at his back.

  ‘Go!’ he shouted without turning around.

  She broke into a jog, moving to the outside of the arena. He had told her she would end each day hating him. Instead, she was beginning the day hating him.

  Within moments she tasted sweat on her lips. Daring a glance at Remus, she saw that he had wandered to stand beneath the portico. Her hands tightened into fists. A man walked over to speak to him, and they had a relaxed conversation about something. At any moment she was about to fall down while he stood under cover, keeping himself cool, probably complaining about the heat. He did not even glance in her direction. She doubted he would even notice if she stopped. But she would not stop; she would keep running even if it killed her.

  The sun continued on its path and her undergarments acted as sponges for the sweat pouring off her. Every breath started to feel like a punch to the chest. Her thirst grew until it was all she could think of. Still, he did not offer water or tell her to stop. He even disappeared out of sight for a while, returning with someone else, pointing to some men who were being marched from the arena.

  Only after he had spoken to every person in the vicinity did he bother to return. He stopped in the middle of the yard with his arms crossed in front of him.