by Tanya Bird
‘All right,’ he called to her. ‘That’s enough.’
If he was waiting for her to collapse at his feet in gratitude, he would be waiting a long time. She continued at the same pace. ‘I can keep going.’
He shook his head and looked at the ground. ‘Mila, stop before you faint.’
Her feet pounded the sand. ‘You want me fit. I have plenty left.’
Remus glanced over at Albaus, who frowned back at him. He let out a breath before trying again. ‘You’ve made your point. Come here and drink.’
She stopped, hands going to her knees, determined not to be sick in front of him. Her body shook, threatening to give out. Before it could, a hand slipped beneath her arm, pulling her upright. She looked down at it, large and firm against her bare skin. Enough pressure to take the weight of her, but not enough to hurt.
‘Drink,’ Remus said, holding the waterskin up to her lips.
She closed her eyes and obeyed, her mind moving between the sensation of the water and the hand still wrapping her arm. When she was done, she opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. ‘Thank you.’
He nodded and let go. ‘Rest for a moment.’
Mila shook her head. ‘I am fine. We can begin now.’
He searched her face, as if trying to read her, then stepped back. ‘Suit yourself. Let’s begin.’
She felt something bordering on disappointment as he turned away. She watched his hands curl into fists and open again, the gentle swing of his arms, the muscles on his back shifting beneath the fabric as he moved. For a moment, she was blind to everything else. Remus seemed to fill her vision.
He bent, picking up two training poles, and turned to face her. He tilted his head and she worried her thoughts were transparent.
‘You all right?’
She nodded, focusing hard on the poles in his hands.
‘Ready?’
‘Ready.’
Chapter 15
‘Mila!’
Mila turned, searching the busy street for the familiar voice. ‘Nerva?’
He stepped into view, his hand clasping Dulcia’s, pulling her between two women who had stopped in the middle of the road to talk. A smile spread on Mila’s face and her sister broke into a run.
‘Dulcia,’ she breathed as her sister hit her at a run. ‘What are you doing in this part of the city?’
‘Looking for you,’ she said, smiling up at her. ‘Remus sent word to Nerva, suggested we might be able to catch you on your way to training.’
Mila looked at Nerva who stopped beside them. ‘Remus sent word to you?’
He wore a worried expression. ‘He told us Prisca is training you for the games.’
Mila smiled, mostly for the sake of her sister. ‘Did he also tell you she has promised me freedom if I win? It is just one fight.’
‘I have heard that before.’
‘So it is true, then?’ Dulcia said, beaming. ‘Soon you will be free? Then you will come for me?’
‘It is not that simple,’ Nerva said. ‘Mila will need coin to buy your freedom.’
‘Whatever the wealthy throw down will be mine to keep.’
Nerva frowned. ‘Do not encourage your sister’s excitement. You know as well as I that the only gladiators who earn any decent coin are those fighting for their lives. You will just be there to warm up the crowd.’
Mila looked down, then at Nero. ‘Nero, come and meet my sister.’ After a lengthy illness, the boy was finally back on his feet.
Nerva took Mila’s arm and pulled her away from the others. Albaus took a step towards her and she shook her head, letting him know it was all right.
‘We need to keep walking,’ she called behind her. ‘Remus gets moody when I am late.’
Nerva looked back at Dulcia, who fell into step with Nero. The pair began to chat quietly. His gaze returned to Mila. ‘What was that?’ he whispered, keeping a hold of her arm.
‘What?’
He shook his head. ‘I have known you your whole life. Do not play games. Why did you look away when I mentioned about those fighting to the death earning the coin?’
‘Did I?’ He squeezed her arm and she yelped. ‘You know, one signal to Albaus and he will crush you underfoot.’
He ignored her threat. ‘Are you fighting in the morning or the afternoon?’
‘What does that matter?’
Another squeeze.
‘Ouch!’ She pulled her arm free. ‘Afternoon.’
His feet slowed for a moment. ‘You are fighting to the death.’
She glanced back at her sister, then to Albaus, who followed behind them, scowling. Lowering her voice, she said, ‘It is only to the death if the crowd wishes it so.’
He released her arm. ‘You agreed to fight to the death? What is the matter with you?’
‘Keep your voice down,’ she said, smiling again over her shoulder to reassure Dulcia. ‘Did you hear the part where I am free at the end?’
‘If you live.’
She picked up her pace. ‘I have the best trainer in Rome and every motivation to win.’
‘So does your opponent.’ He stared at her, and she continued not to look at him. ‘Remus failed to share that important detail with me.’
She glanced at him and swallowed. ‘Remus does not know.’
Nerva stopped walking and then ran to catch up. ‘What do you mean he does not know?’ he hissed. ‘He is your trainer. You do not think it was important to tell him you need to kill?’
A young boy ran out onto the street and they stepped around him. ‘Prisca does not want her husband finding out all the details just yet.’
‘Because he would object to the entire thing?’
‘Because he agreed to let her buy me on the condition that she was discreet. Women fighting to the death tends to send tongues wagging.’
He shook his head, mouth tightening. ‘Can you hear yourself? There is every chance you will die.’
She looked at him then, head shaking. ‘I think sometimes you forget I am a slave, and slaves do not make decisions. We follow orders.’
He was not buying it. ‘Since when do you follow orders? You could go to her husband and beg for your life, and he would put an end to this insanity at once.’
‘I do not want to beg, and I do not want to put an end to it,’ she snapped. ‘I have a chance at freedom, and I am taking it.’
Nerva threw his hands up. ‘The truth at last. Admit it, Prisca dangled freedom in front of you and you snatched it up like a greedy little slave without thinking it through.’
‘Without thinking it through? You cannot actually believe that.’
‘I know it, because if you actually stopped to think it through, you would see how selfish you are being. Better to have a mundane life than no life at all.’
Her glare cut though him. ‘So kind of you to shine some perspective from up high.’
He continued to match her pace. ‘Gods, give me strength.’
They both turned to check on the others, finding them smiling secretively, Dulcia’s arms swinging. She was never that relaxed with people she did not know. Mila’s body softened at the sight.
‘What am I meant to tell your sister when you die in the arena?’
She tensed again. ‘I will not.’
‘You might.’
‘If I fight well, the people may insist I live.’
‘It does not work like that. They spare the big names they have grown attached to. No one knows who you are. No one will care if you die. Are you ready for that? A sword driven through your neck? A hammer following to ensure you are in fact dead?’
‘Stop it. If Dulcia hears you, there will be no consoling her.’
‘If you die, there will be no consoling her.’
Mila inhaled and looked at him. ‘Say nothing of this to anyone, not even Remus.’
He faced forwards. ‘He will find out eventually. Your fight is in four weeks. What are you going to do, take down the notices?’
‘I will tell him, just not now.’
They both fell silent.
‘How is my mother?’ she asked, changing the subject.
Nerva glanced around at the vendors. ‘Well enough.’
‘Good.’
He looked at her. ‘Am I to keep this from her also?’
She turned to him, pleading. ‘It is just for a little while. Prisca is just being cautious.’
‘To protect her interests.’
‘Which happen to be in line with my own.’
He did not respond. They walked shoulder to shoulder, the others laughing and chatting behind them all the way to the entrance of Ludus Magnus.
Nerva turned to face her, his expression finally softening. ‘You are beginning to look like a gladiator. Getting a little bulk on you.’
‘She is a gladiator,’ Nero said, coming to stand next to her. ‘You should see her fight.’
Nerva smiled down at the boy. ‘I have seen her once or twice. And who are you?’
‘Her bodyguard,’ Nero replied, glancing at Dulcia as he spoke the words.
Nerva’s eyebrows rose with surprise. ‘Are you now?’ He looked at Albaus. ‘Is he your backup?’
Nero laughed.
‘He might be small, but he is fierce if provoked,’ Mila said, keeping her face serious.
Nerva turned to Dulcia. ‘Say goodbye to your sister.’
‘I yield.’ The wooden sword dropped from Mila’s hand the same time her knees gave way. Remus took a step in her direction and then stopped himself. She looked up at him, panting and wheezing.
‘You’ll not get to yield in the arena,’ he said, throwing his own sword on the ground between them. ‘You drop your sword like that and you’ll lose.’
He was only slightly out of breath, with a shine of sweat on his forehead. This annoyed her to no end as she sweltered like a pig at his feet. ‘Just give me a moment.’
‘Is that what you’ll tell your opponent?’
She glared up at him, too exhausted for words. It was her third week of training, and every session ended the same way. The day before, she had stood retching in front of him, possibly the most mortifying moment to date. He had just waited for her to finish and handed her the waterskin to rinse her mouth. At least there was cloud cover providing much-needed relief, though no promise of rain.
‘Get up,’ Remus said. His tone was gentle despite the abruptness of his words.
‘I do not think I can.’
He stepped over his sword and took hold of her arms, lifting her to her feet. The moment her legs took her weight, he let go and picked up the swords, handing one to her. He did all this without looking at her.
She gripped her sword as best she could and brushed loose hair from her eyes. He was crouched and ready. She waited for him to strike, desperate to prove herself. That was all she seemed to care about. She wanted him to tell her she was getting better, that she was good enough. That she could win.
They stared at one another for longer than normal. She saw his gaze fall to her bare legs, saw the movement in his neck as he swallowed. Suddenly, he straightened, lowering his sword.
She frowned. ‘What is the matter?’
He shook his head, turning away. ‘We’re done. Get yourself cleaned up.’ He began to walk away.
‘What?’
‘You heard me. Go before I change my mind.’
Felix, who had joined them halfway through the session, stepped out of Remus’s way. Mila stared after her trainer as he strode across the sand towards the pail of water in the shade.
‘What did you do?’ Felix called to her, half a smile on his face.
She held her hands up. ‘I have no idea. I can do no right with him.’ She threw her sword down. ‘When I am begging the gods for strength to stay upright, he tells me to keep going. When I assure him I am fine, he tells me to go home.’
Felix wandered closer. ‘I gave up trying to figure him out years ago.’
‘I was worried he was only like that with me.’
Felix studied her. ‘I suspect he is worse with you.’
She rested her hands on her hips to help her balance. ‘Does he really loathe me that much?’
Felix chuckled. ‘He does not loathe you. He is hard on you because he wants you to win.’
‘Because it will reflect badly on him if I do not?’
He glanced at Remus, who had poured half the pail over his head. ‘It will, but he will not care about that. Remus wants to see you free. If he had his way, he would free every slave in this city.’
She watched as Remus placed the pail down and brushed water from his hair. As much as she hated to admit it, his carved frame and glistening skin were rather pleasing to the eye at that moment. ‘Well, whatever his opinion of himself, he is no Spartacus.’
The dwarf nodded. ‘You should tell him that.’
Mila studied the blisters on her hands. ‘He has a funny way of showing that he… cares.’
‘What would you have him do, go easy on you?’
She stretched out her fingers, wincing as she did so. ‘A kind word occasionally would not kill him.’
‘It is his job to toughen you up, not comfort you.’
‘I am not asking for comfort. Just… never mind.’
‘Kindness? Friendship?’
She sniffed. ‘You make them sound like diseases.’
Felix shook his head and glanced up at the sun. ‘He is trying to get you out of that arena in one piece. That is all he can focus on right now.’
They watched Remus jog across the sand and disappear beneath the portico.
‘The best thing you can do is win. Walk away with your freedom, and I think you will find a very different Remus waiting for you at that gate.’
Chapter 16
It was the one part of the day Mila did not mind so much. The Fadius family would come together for dinner, the boys supposedly on their best behaviour, hiding mischievous smiles while kicking one another beneath the table. Jovian and Prisca had two sons, twelve-year-old Seneca and fourteen-year-old Varius. They were little clones of their father with their round noses, sloping eyes, and thin lips. The only feature they had inherited from their mother was her thick brown hair.
‘Poetry,’ Jovian said, waving a servant away from his plate. ‘Of all the things for Varius to excel at.’
‘Yes, but have you read any of it?’ Prisca asked. ‘It is quite lovely.’
Jovian glanced at his son. The boy had stilled to listen to the exchange. ‘I do not doubt it. Poetry written for leisure is a perfectly acceptable pastime.’ He looked between his sons. ‘But a man must first master the sword.’
Mila thought that was a rather hilarious comment coming from a senator who had never seen battle. She glanced at Sabina, who was pouring Prisca’s wine. That was how they communicated, small glances here and there.
‘The person you employed to train them is not very good,’ Prisca said.
‘He is a legionnaire.’
She laughed and sipped her wine. ‘How he has remained alive this long I have no idea.’
‘And for the last time,’ he continued, ‘you will not be teaching them.’
Her hand went to her collarbone. ‘Me? I would not dream of it. To betray my gender by picking up a weapon… it is unfathomable. And just imagine what all our loyal friends would say on the subject. We might even be shunned. Imagine, no more stuffy dinners fuelled by dull conversation.’
‘All right.’ He shook his head.
‘I gave you my word, and in exchange, you gave me Mila.’ She glanced over her shoulder to admire her. ‘Perhaps she could teach them.’
‘Absolutely not,’ Jovian replied, signalling for more bread. ‘You assured me you would be discreet.’
‘Have I not been?’
His expression was tired when he looked at her. ‘She spends more time training at Ludus Magnus than serving you.’
‘We are not lacking in servants.’
‘As long as you are not ha
nging about that place.’
‘And bring shame on my family by mixing with the dregs of society? Never.’
‘Sarcasm does not become you.’
‘Nor does snobbery.’
Jovian’s knife screeched across his plate. ‘That is enough of that talk.’ He tore some bread and dipped it into the oil on his plate. ‘Did the seamstress bring the fabric today?’ he asked, attempting to change the subject to something more befitting of a lady.
Prisca, who always seemed to muster a smile when required, did not seem to have it in her. ‘Yes, it is lovely. I wonder if she could make a new dress in time for the dinner party.’
‘Splendid idea,’ Jovian said, chewing his food. ‘To think, Nerva Papias, a senator at twenty and one.’
Mila’s breath caught at the mention.
Nerva. A senator. The news must have been very recent. He had said nothing when she had seen him the week prior.
‘Are we to join you, Mother?’ Seneca asked, face hopeful.
‘No, my love. Besides, there are no children in the Papias household for you to socialise with. Aquila is as barren as she is rude.’
Another screech of the knife.
‘But I want to see the gladiators.’
Jovian raised a hand to silence his son. ‘There will be no gladiators at this dinner party. Aquila Papias is a woman of class and chooses not to indulge in such pastimes if she can help it.’
‘Goodness, a snob and a bore.’ Prisca dropped her spoon onto her plate. The noise made everyone turn. ‘Does she think herself above entertaining her guests? Perhaps she will give us all a weaving demonstration instead.’
‘Aquila is a fine example of what a Roman wife ought to be.’
Prisca pushed her plate away. ‘I am afraid I do not have much of an appetite this evening.’
Mila marvelled at the woman’s ability to maintain a composed face despite the violent thoughts no doubt racing through her mind.
Prisca stood. ‘I think I shall retire early.’
Sabina stepped forwards to pull her chair back in one silent motion. Prisca walked over to her sons, kissing them before leaving the room.
Mila helped Prisca undress while Nero ran to fetch water so they could wash the paint from her face. Angry energy radiated from their domina, and when the boy returned with the water, Prisca’s eyes locked on him in a way that made the others turn and look at him also.
