A Gladiator's Oath

by Tanya Bird

  Of course she did.

  Remus glanced at Mila, who was staring at her feet. ‘Suppose her word is final, then?’

  ‘Her coin, her rules,’ Brutus said, clapping him on the back.

  Remus nodded and laughed through his nose, a release of frustration. ‘Her coin, her rules,’ he repeated.

  Remus waited in the atrium for Prisca to join him. He could not keep still, pacing the length of the room, finding the atmosphere more overwhelming than luxurious.

  ‘Remus. What a surprise,’ Prisca sang, swanning into the room in a silk robe with not much beneath it. ‘I must apologise for my appearance. Had I known you were coming, I would have worn something more appropriate for guests.’

  Yet she had found time to put on jewels. Remus made a point of not looking down, where the outline of her nipples was visible through the sheer fabric.

  ‘What brings you here?’ she asked, closing the gap between them.

  He exhaled. ‘I think you know what brings me here.’

  She touched a hand to her collarbone. ‘That is rather forward. Enough to make a grown woman blush.’

  He shook his head, his eyes never leaving her. ‘Not that. Why’d you ask for Titus to train Mila?’

  She gave a pretty laugh. ‘Oh, is that why you are here? A battered ego?’

  He studied her, trying to figure out her game. ‘Thought you wanted her to win.’

  She feigned surprise. ‘I do.’

  ‘I’m a better trainer than Titus and you know it.’

  She was enjoying herself far too much. ‘Come now, let us not turn this into a flexing of muscle. The fact of the matter is she needs to be pushed, and you are not the man to do it.’

  ‘Titus will destroy her,’ he said plainly.

  ‘So will her opponent in a few weeks.’

  He had to look away.

  ‘Would you care to sit? Shall I organise some refreshments?’ She glanced at the window. ‘Is it too early for wine?’

  He drew a breath. ‘No refreshments.’

  She looked up at him, the neckline on her robe widening every time she moved. ‘Do not feel badly. You have done what you can with the girl. She has the skills. Now it is time to toughen her up.’

  Perhaps Prisca was right. Just hearing her say those words made his entire body jolt. Yet the thought of Titus having free rein over her was worse. ‘Titus is unpredictable, short-fused, and doesn’t like women.’

  She waved his words away. ‘Mila is in no danger. Brutus is far too well paid to let anything serious happen to her.’ Her eyes moved over his jaw, which was pulsing. A look of satisfaction settled on her face. ‘I am doing you a favour.’

  ‘How do you figure that?’

  She lifted her chin. ‘I saw your face yesterday when you disarmed her. It hurt you to do it, to strike her.’ She took a step back from him. ‘You have developed feelings for her. Remus Latinius, taken apart by a slave.’ She looked around the room. ‘I suppose that is what happens when you are forced to spend time with someone day after day.’ She peered up at him. ‘Just imagine if you had trained me.’

  Remus did not like her being inside his head. ‘Does your husband know about all this?’

  Her expression did not falter. ‘Of course. We have no secrets.’

  ‘Does he know you intend to exploit her in his name?’

  The smile fell away. ‘Exploit her?’ She stared at him. ‘I am handing that girl everything. If she wins, she is free, and if she loses, she dies with all the glory a girl of her status could hope for.’

  He froze, hoping he had misunderstood. ‘Mila will not die.’ He waited for her to confirm it. She just stared back at him. ‘Will she?’ he pushed, barely recognising his own voice. When Prisca did not reply, he stepped up to her so fast that he heard her intake of breath. ‘Tell me you’re not sending her into the arena to die.’

  ‘No…’ She swallowed and tried again. ‘I am sending her in to win. Why do you think I am training her so hard?’

  ‘Then you’re sending her in to kill.’ It came out as a whisper.

  She shrugged and turned the cuff on her wrist. ‘That is for the people to decide.’ She arched one groomed brow at him. ‘Now do you see why she needs a man like Titus? She will be fighting for her life. Best she gets used to it now.’

  Remus sat in the tavern across the street from Ludus Magnus, the one he drank in most days, the one Mila passed on her walk home. He did not trust himself to be there while Mila trained.

  He kept his eyes on the window, a drink in hand for appearances. The room smelled of sweat and ale, and so did the women who kept approaching him, legs and hips brushing his arm. He shook his head at them, gaze fixed on the street so as not to miss her.

  Copa wandered over, her round cheeks flushed. ‘Get you another?’

  He spotted her then, walking slowly, an arm draped over Nero’s shoulders. Albaus walked behind them, eyes on her feet, as though expecting her to fall down at any moment. She wiped blood from her nose. When she stumbled, Albaus reached forwards and grabbed her elbow, righting her.

  Remus was out of his chair and through the door of the tavern in a few strides. He jogged across the street towards her. ‘Mila.’

  She looked up at the familiar voice, straightened, and withdrew her arm from Nero’s shoulders. If she was trying to pretend she was fine, she was too late. He stopped in front of her, his anger already melting away despite the speech he had prepared on the way from Prisca’s house. He did not like being lied to.

  She looked past him to the tavern. ‘Your home away from home, I assume?’

  He nodded. ‘Something like that.’ Silence. ‘Tough afternoon?’

  Albaus grunted and everyone turned to look at him. He shook his head, not happy about something.

  ‘Titus almost broke her leg,’ Nero said, his face compressed and red.

  Mila put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It was not that bad. I am fine, just tired.’

  Remus was going to have a word with Titus when he returned. ‘How long have you known you’ll be fighting to the death?’

  Albaus shifted, and Nero looked up at her in surprise, no doubt waiting for her to deny the fact. She stared at the boy, looking suitably guilty. With a sigh, she said, ‘From the beginning.’

  Another grunt from Albaus. Nero’s mouth hung open.

  ‘You did not think to tell me?’ Remus asked.

  She looked too tired for the conversation.

  ‘Would it have changed anything?’

  Would it? He did not know.

  ‘What if you die?’ Nero asked, his voice coming out as a squeak.

  She blinked. ‘I plan to win. As soon as I can walk properly again,’ she added, her smile weak.

  Remus noticed it then, the swelling along her jaw. He reached up, tipping her chin, aware of the change in her breath when he touched her. ‘That one is going to bruise.’

  Looking up, she said, ‘Nothing is broken. I can live with bruises.’

  He released her face and they both resumed breathing. He realised he did not have room for anger; he was too broken by the prospect of losing her.

  His hand dropped to his side. ‘I’ll walk you.’

  They fell into step, Nero falling behind to walk with Albaus. Every alleyway they passed introduced a new smell: bread, offal, manure, flowers. The many scents of Rome. The streets were still warm beneath their feet. People had slowed down, their busy frowns fading with the sun, replaced with smiles as they went about making dinner plans.

  ‘I am going to see my family tomorrow,’ Mila said, filling the silence. ‘Nerva has joined the senate, and Aquila is hosting a dinner party. Prisca said I could accompany her. A sweetener, perhaps.’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘That was big of her. A peace offering for the torture over the coming weeks.’

  Mila was quiet for a moment.

  ‘I think she actually cares in her own way.’

  He released a breath. ‘Thought I had her figured out once. I don’t reall
y understand her anymore.’

  Mila’s arms swung at her side, occasionally brushing his.

  ‘I think she is lonely. A bit of a misfit in that world.’

  ‘You forgot calculating and manipulative.’ He glanced at Mila, who was watching him. ‘What?’

  ‘You liked her once.’ Her eyes fell to his lips and then the street. ‘Rather a lot, actually.’

  He studied her. ‘If I didn’t know you better, I might say you’re jealous.’

  She lengthened her stride. ‘Why do you gladiators always assume women are falling over themselves for you?’

  He smiled. ‘They usually are.’

  ‘Well, beneath all that muscle, you are just ordinary men.’

  ‘Tell me what you really think.’

  She stepped in and shoved him lightly. ‘You do not need me to fluff your ego.’

  ‘No, but it’d be nice.’

  She smiled at the street and they fell silent for a while, watching people move around them. It was the end of the workday, and many were returning home to rest before dinner.

  ‘I was a slave then.’ Once again, he did not need to explain himself, but he did anyway. ‘She set her sights on me. I did what I’d done my whole life, whatever I was told.’

  ‘I bet it was terrible,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

  ‘Awful,’ he agreed. ‘All the other gladiators were very sympathetic to my situation.’

  She laughed, and when he looked at her, he saw a small dimple he had never noticed before. It was possibly his new favourite thing about her.

  His arm brushed against hers. ‘You mock me.’

  ‘I expose you.’

  She put some space between them, and he noticed her limp as she did so.

  ‘How’s the leg holding up?’

  ‘Fine.’

  She made an effort to keep her stride even. He looked away.

  ‘Titus will train you harder than I ever could.’

  A small laugh. ‘I figured that out already.’

  Two soldiers marched towards them with no intention of changing course. Remus took Mila by the wrist and pulled her out of their way. He kept hold of her after the men had passed. She looked down at his hand, then up at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Albaus grab Nero by the shoulder and pull him back. The little bodyguard was not pleased at being excluded from the conversation.

  ‘I want you to win,’ Remus said, realising how ridiculous he sounded.

  She studied his eyes, his face, then gave a small nod. ‘I know.’

  A horse trotted towards them, its rider shouting at everyone in his way. Remus pulled Mila closer, and for a moment she was pressed against him, filling the grooves of his body as though the gods had made her to fit him. The moment the horse passed them, she stepped back. He let go of her wrist, and they resumed walking.

  ‘What’ll you do with your freedom?’ he asked after a long silence. They had turned down a quiet alleyway.

  ‘Whatever I need to do to earn enough coin to buy my family’s freedom. Probably keep fighting. I have no other skills.’

  They passed a man asleep in a doorway.

  ‘And after that?’

  She shook her head. ‘I honestly do not know. Leave Rome, maybe.’

  ‘And go where?’

  She squinted up at him. ‘I’ve never been out of the city. The country, perhaps.’

  ‘And do what?’

  She shrugged. ‘Be free to choose, I suppose.’ She thought for a moment. ‘What about you? What holds you here? Family?’

  ‘Does Felix count?’

  ‘If you care for him like blood, then yes.’

  A gush of water splattered the street in front of them. Mila pulled Remus back in time to avoid getting wet. She glared at the woman framed in a doorway, clutching the empty pail.

  ‘Your reflexes have improved,’ Remus said.

  She turned to look at him, studying his expression. Perhaps she had expected him to shout and carry on, but he preferred to save his anger for things that mattered. They stepped over the dirty water and kept walking.

  ‘I suppose you will take credit for that,’ she said, picking up the conversation again.

  He shrugged. ‘If you want to put it down to one afternoon with Titus, go ahead.’

  ‘Maybe I will.’

  She smiled up at him, and there was light in her eyes. There was no denying her beauty in that moment, or his reaction to it.

  ‘Admit it,’ he said. ‘You’re in a lot of pain right now.’

  She adjusted her stola. ‘Honestly? Yes. Everything hurts.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  She turned to him again. ‘Tell me about Felix. He is a civilian, is he not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  They turned down a narrow alleyway, that time ducking below hanging linen. Albaus was practically turned sideways to fit through the space.

  ‘Where is his family?’

  They passed a pair of soldiers, their gazes lingering on Mila. She seemed oblivious to the fact.

  ‘His family doesn’t exactly approve of his… life choices.’

  She laughed and he wished he could see her face, but she walked in front, occasionally glancing back at him.

  ‘I imagine his options were limited. Hardly seems fair to punish him for making the best of his situation.’

  He noticed some welts on her right shoulder where she had been struck earlier. Nothing serious, yet he found himself keeping tally for when he next faced Titus in the arena.

  They exited the alleyway, emerging a few streets from the Fadius household. Mila stopped on the corner, holding on to the stone wall for a moment. Remus noticed that her legs were shaking. He stepped closer.

  ‘You all right?’

  Nero stepped between them. ‘I can carry you on my back, like Albaus did me when I was sick.’

  She smiled at him, giving his arm a brief squeeze. ‘What sort of gladiator would I be if I allowed such a thing?’

  ‘When did you last eat?’ Remus asked.

  ‘This morning.’

  ‘You need food.’ He glanced down the street. ‘Come.’

  He took her hand, warm and small in his. Her skin was too soft, barely callused. They would need to toughen up before the fight. She did not pull away, letting him guide her along the street until they reached a shopfront where a baker was packing up for the day.

  He turned to her. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I will eat at the house. There is really no need.’

  He pointed to the few remaining loaves and tarts. ‘You mean after the rest of the household is fed? Eat now or you’ll collapse.’

  He saw her glance at the lemon tarts next to the bread, unsure what to do. He pulled out his coin pouch and nodded to the tarts. ‘Two, please.’

  ‘Bread is fine,’ Mila protested. ‘The cheaper one.’

  Remus ignored her and paid the baker, thanking him before handing both Mila and Nero a tart.

  ‘What about you?’ Mila asked.

  Nero did not hesitate, practically swallowing the thing whole. ‘Thanks,’ he said, sending flakes of pastry flying as he spoke.

  Remus nodded, knowing too well what a treat it was to eat those foods at that age. ‘Already ate at the tavern,’ he lied. ‘And Albaus looks like he’s cutting back. You go ahead.’

  Mila glanced down at the tart and then lifted it to his mouth. ‘At least taste it. Lemon is my favourite.’

  Her face was all sweet and hopeful. How was he supposed to say no to her? He looked at the tart and then bent slightly, taking a bite. Citrus and sugar exploded in his mouth. He closed his eyes for a moment.

  ‘Good?’

  He nodded, opening his eyes and smiling. ‘So good.’

  Satisfied, she took a bite, groaning as she chewed. ‘Maybe I will become a baker.’ She wiped at the crumbs on her lips. ‘Do they have bakers in the country?’

  ‘You don’t get to eat all the tarts. The idea is to sell a few.’

 
She laughed, and even though she brought a hand up to cover the food in her mouth, he witnessed her smile in all its brilliance: her brow smooth, her dimple deep, and her eyes creasing at the corners.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  He could have just stood there watching her eat, but he was aware of the passing time and did not want to get her into trouble. ‘Best get you home. You all right to walk?’

  She nodded. ‘The miracle of sugar.’

  They began their walk up the hill towards the house, their feet matched in pace while Nero bounded ahead, kicking a stone along the road.

  ‘I’ll leave you here,’ Remus said, not wanting to be spotted by Prisca or any of her servants. He saw something resembling disappointment in Mila’s eyes.

  ‘Thank you for walking us,’ she said. ‘And for the tarts.’

  He nodded. ‘Be careful with Titus. He’s…’

  ‘Like most men?’ she finished, brows raised and smiling.

  His eyes went to her mouth. ‘Just be careful.’ He turned to leave.

  ‘Remus,’ she called.

  He turned around.

  ‘Where would you go? If not Rome, then where?’

  Without thinking, he said, ‘India.’

  ‘India?’ She mulled it over for a moment. ‘Why India?’

  He shrugged. ‘I met a man once who travelled the world for a living.’

  ‘Where did you meet him?’

  ‘A tavern.’

  She suppressed a smile. ‘Ah, very reliable source, then.’

  ‘He was sober for some of it.’

  She studied him. ‘How did this sober man make his living?’

  ‘He was a spice trader.’

  ‘Oh.’ She seemed surprised by that.

  ‘What?’

  She shook her head. ‘I think I was expecting you to say something less… honest.’

  ‘Good to know you have such a high opinion of me.’

  Another smile, as beautiful as the last.

  ‘You know, the elephants in India are smaller than the ones in Africa.’

  He frowned. ‘How do you know that?’

  She shrugged. ‘My sister and I were tutored when we were young.’

  His frown deepened. ‘You were?’

  She nodded. ‘We might not have the Papias name, but Rufus did what he could.’