A Gladiator's Oath

by Tanya Bird

  ‘Can you… can you just promise me that you will leave it alone, and get out of the city while you can?’ She could not look at him.

  ‘I already made you a promise—if you won, we’d marry. That’s my oath.’

  She looked up then, eyes shiny. ‘The Romans love a tragedy. Perhaps they will write a play about us.’

  He stood up, apparently in no mood for jokes.

  ‘Eat all the food. You’ll need your strength.’

  She scrambled to her feet. ‘What are you going to do?’

  He pressed his palms into his eyes. ‘I love you,’ he said, looking down at her. ‘I’ve never told you that before. Should have.’ Before she could reply, he added, ‘Remember you’re a gladiator, and gladiators don’t enter the arena waving a finger in surrender. They fight their best fight, every time. Then the people decide who lives and who dies.’

  She shook her head again. ‘The people may scream and shout, but at the end of it all, one man has all the power.’

  A wheezy cough sounded behind her.

  Remus sniffed and looked away. ‘Eat.’ With that, he left.

  Chapter 29

  ‘The gladiator known as Libertas, property of Jovian Fadius, is hereby sentenced to death in the arena for the murder of Lady Prisca Fadius. Sentencing will be carried out at the Flavian Amphitheatre on October 1.’

  It was just a few lines, buried amid the other public announcements—the births, deaths, and marriages of Rome’s elite. It was not a surprise, as Remus had known it was coming, yet hearing the words spoken aloud made his heart stop.

  ‘At least I think that is what it says,’ Felix said, balancing on tiptoes. ‘Why must they place them so high up?’

  ‘I could lift you,’ Remus said, staring at the words. They were just marks on paper to him. He could not read.

  ‘Touch me and I will take off your hand. It is humiliating enough being stood on.’

  Remus continued to stare absently at the notice. ‘Tomorrow, then.’ He was surprised his voice sounded as even as it did, because his hands were trembling. ‘I should go to that house, fight my way in. Get those papers.’

  Felix snorted, his heels returning to the ground. ‘Why? It will not help. He will simply throw you to the lions also.’ Remus flinched, and Felix shook his head. ‘Sorry.’

  Remus backed away from the board and turned, walking beneath the arches and descending the steps. ‘They arrested Albaus last night.’

  ‘I heard. Not surprising given he was with Mila every day of her training. Good thing Lady Prisca sold the boy off before he was implicated in this mess.’ Felix’s legs had to move at twice the speed to keep up. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to Antium.’

  Felix gave up on walking and broke into a jog. ‘All right. Why?’

  ‘Mila’s brother’s there.’

  ‘I thought she only had a sister.’

  Remus did not slow down. ‘Half-brother.’

  ‘Oh, that brother. What are you expecting Nerva to do?’

  Remus breathed out. ‘I don’t know. Something. Anything.’ Felix grabbed hold of Remus’s arm and he spun around. ‘What? I don’t have time to debate the idea. Tomorrow she’ll be dead.’

  Felix ignored the tone. ‘You lost your heart to the girl, but surely not your mind. You are expecting too much of a young senator with no real power.’

  Remus tore his arm free. ‘What will you have me do? Get a toga made for the event? Tell me what I should do instead.’

  Felix looked around, ensuring no one was listening. ‘First thing, calm yourself.’ When he was satisfied no one was watching them, he continued. ‘Will you even make it back in time?’ What he did not say was ‘in time to watch her die’.

  ‘If I ride overnight.’ Remus shook his head. ‘Thank the gods Jovian saw sense not to punish the entire household.’

  ‘Hardly seems fair to sentence the bodyguard. The man has no tongue and cannot read. Even if he had known, how was he supposed to report the matter?’

  ‘Unfair treatment of slaves—who would’ve thought?’

  Felix threw him a disapproving glance. ‘Want me to come with you?’

  ‘No. Stay here, keep the boy out of trouble and an ear to the ground. With Albaus arrested, I’ve no chance of getting food or water to her.’ He pinched the top of his nose. ‘I’ll return as soon as I can.’

  Remus went to track down an eques he knew who owed him a favour. He borrowed a horse, left the city, and headed south to Antium.

  Keeping a steady speed, he was careful not to overdo it. He had to stop a few times to rest his horse and check directions. After a long day in the saddle, using muscles he had forgotten he had, he finally reached the city at dusk, just as a pink sky stretched out over the ocean. He had visited the coast before, but never like this. It was one of those places that made him question why he remained in Rome.

  The city was built amid rocky terrain that was alive with flora. Villas dotted the foreshore, opening out to the Tyrrhenian Sea. Many of their wealthy occupants only visited in the summer when the heat and smell of Rome became too much for them.

  He stopped at the temple of Fortune, wondering where he should begin his search. Dismounting, he asked every man in a toga if they knew the whereabouts of the Papias’s villa. Either they all did not know, or they did not trust him with the answer. He could not blame them; he looked every bit the plebeian with his coarse tunic and worn-out horse.

  He was resting across the street from the forum, considering his next move, when Nerva found him.

  ‘Remus?’

  He turned, and the relief he felt at seeing the senator walking towards him was overwhelming. ‘Thank the gods.’

  Nerva extended an arm and Remus took a firm hold of it.

  ‘One of my servants said they heard a man asking around for my father. The reason for your visit cannot be a good one. I am afraid to ask.’

  Remus released his arm and looked around, unsure where to start.

  ‘Why do I feel like you are delivering bad news?’ Nerva asked, crossing his arms. ‘Tell me she won.’

  ‘She won.’

  Nerva let out a long breath. ‘Is she free?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Is she alive?’

  ‘For now.’ Nerva shifted. ‘She’s to be put to death in the arena tomorrow for murder.’

  Nerva laughed, but the fear was clear in his eyes. ‘Murder? Who did she supposedly kill?’

  If only it were supposedly. ‘Lady Prisca Fadius died in the arena yesterday.’ He blinked. ‘At Mila’s hand.’

  Nerva took a few unsteady steps and grabbed hold of Remus’s horse. The mare was too exhausted to object.

  ‘I should have gone to Rome,’ he whispered. ‘I think my father was afraid of my reaction. And maybe his own.’

  ‘It’s not too late.’

  Nerva looked up and drew a shaky breath. ‘You are going to need to start at the beginning.’

  Chapter 30

  Mila woke curled in a ball with her limbs frozen in position. She did not immediately open her eyes. The last two days had altered her mind in such a way that consciousness needed to be done in stages. Since Remus’s departure, she had let her inner child do as she pleased: denial, tears, anger, daydreams.

  As she coaxed her mind away from sleep, back into the real world, she became aware of warmth beneath her head. How was that possible? With great effort, she forced her eyes open, discovering a pillow of legs belonging to Tacita. She sat up, turning apologetically to the young prostitute.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, pushing herself back.

  The girl shook her head. ‘I used you as a blanket. Call it even.’

  Mila laughed, a soft noise. She remembered the girl stroking her hair as she had sobbed, half-asleep. Suddenly remembering the food, she looked around for it. She had stupidly left it unguarded. All she could see were rat droppings. Her eyes went to Tacita, but she could not blame a starving girl for eating. But the
girl surprised her by pulling the food items out of her toga. ‘Sorry about the apple,’ she said, handing the remaining food over.

  ‘You could have blamed the rats,’ Mila said, taking it from her.

  Tacita smiled, revealing discoloured teeth. ‘I’d eat the rats before I let them eat the food.’

  Shaking her head, Mila tore the salted pork in half and offered one part to Tacita. She shook her head.

  ‘Your friend’s right. You need it.’

  Mila did not move. Eventually, the temptation was too much for Tacita, and she snatched up the meat. Mila chewed her own piece, not tasting it, but knowing swallowing was the end goal. Then she did the same with the bread, tossing a loaf to her new friend before sharing the clean water Remus had brought her.

  Just as they finished their feast, the iron grid above them scraped and clanged and a head appeared.

  ‘All right, everybody up. Let’s move.’

  Mila stood swiftly, and Tacita’s bones creaked as she struggled to her feet. They looked around at the others. One man coughed.

  ‘Only three of us alive,’ Tacita called up to him.

  ‘Anyone who can walk gets to leave with me,’ he replied, beckoning them with a hand. ‘Move.’

  Mila gestured for Tacita to go first. The guard took hold of her frail wrist and lifted her up as though she weighed nothing. She probably did weigh nothing after days without food or water.

  ‘Can you get up?’ she called to the coughing man. No reply.

  ‘Leave him,’ said the guard, waiting for her.

  She hesitated before reaching up. He needed two hands for her, even emitting a grunt as he pulled her into the light. She blinked and drew greedy breaths of clean air, realising she would rather die out in the open than live in a hole.

  Another guard came forwards to shackle their wrists. She turned to watch as two men put the iron grid back in place with a bang. Tacita jumped beside her.

  ‘Will there be a trial?’ Mila asked, already knowing the answer.

  The guard shook the shackles to ensure they were secure. ‘You are to die in the arena.’

  She stared at him, waiting for more, but apparently that was all he owed her. She cleared her throat. ‘And the rest of the Fadius household?’ She tried to keep her voice even.

  He ignored the question, giving her arm a tug to get her moving. She glanced up at the sun to gauge the time of day. It was still early.

  They stepped out onto the street, heading east towards the Flavian Amphitheatre. Mila stumbled and the guard pulled her upright.

  ‘So, not just any old execution, then? Something spectacular?’ she said to him. ‘Death via combat, perhaps?’

  She was about to ask another question when she spotted Felix and Nero walking down the street towards her. Behind them, she glimpsed her sister and mother. Dulcia broke into a run at the sight of her, and there was a part of Mila that wanted to flee in the other direction, not face the tears, disappointment, and heartbreak. She could barely face her own. But the guard dragged her forwards, her bare feet scraping on the stone.

  Dulcia was in tears by the time she reached Mila. The guard pushed her aside.

  ‘Do not touch her,’ Mila said, digging her elbow into the guard’s side. He shoved her forwards but she kept her footing, turning her head to find her sister sobbing and panting as their mother reached her, arms going around her.

  ‘It is all right,’ Mila said, unable to provide comfort outside of words.

  Tertia gripped the girl as though the guards might slap shackles on her and drag her away as well. She held Dulcia’s head against her chest, watching her eldest daughter march to her death. They stared at one another for a moment.

  ‘I am so sorry,’ Mila called to her. And for the first time in her life, she meant it. She had done that to her sister. Everyone had tried to tell her that what she had was enough. Their life together suddenly seemed plenty. Where was all that discontent now? She had done this to herself—and to her family.

  ‘Move aside,’ shouted the guard.

  Felix pulled Nero out of the way. The boy’s face was hard-set, his eyes never leaving her. She had done this to him also. The sight of him combined with Dulcia’s violent sobs behind her almost undid her.

  ‘You promised me it would be all right!’ Dulcia screamed, causing Mila to jump. ‘You promised me!’

  Mila looked around for Remus. Where was he? He too had made a promise. He was supposed to care for her sister. ‘Where’s Remus?’ she called to Felix as they passed him.

  He hesitated before answering. ‘He left the city yesterday. He—’

  Arms wrapped Mila’s middle, holding so tightly the air left her for a moment. Dulcia had broken free from her mother’s grip. The guard raised a hand to strike her, and Mila pulled her arm free and blocked him. He would have to kill her in the street before she let him lay a hand on her sister. Felix ran forwards to pull Dulcia back just as the guard’s hand came down across Mila’s head. Her feet remained planted but her ear rang. Remus had built her tougher than that, but he was not there to witness it.

  ‘Take them home,’ she said to Felix, eyes pleading with him. ‘I do not want them to see.’

  Felix looked apologetic. He had meant well bringing them to see her, she was sure of it. But there was no easy way to say goodbye to one another in a situation like that. There was only pain.

  The guard shoved Mila once more. Distracted, she fell, scraping her elbow before being pulled once again to her feet.

  ‘Easy,’ Felix called to the guard.

  ‘Futue te ipsum,’ the guard swore at him.

  Felix raised a calming hand.

  People on the street had stopped to watch the girls pass, their expressions blank. Mila glanced across at Tacita, who just stared down at the road. Then she searched the faces lining the street, foolishly looking for Remus among them. She had told him to leave, to flee the city, but a selfish part of her wanted to lay eyes on him before her death, draw strength from him in those final moments.

  Another shove from the guard. She was not moving fast enough for him.

  ‘Murderer,’ shouted a man, spitting in her direction. She turned to look at him, not connecting with the word. Shut up, she wanted to shout back, or better still, throw him in the arena with her so she could watch his bravado dissolve into the bloodied sand.

  She faced forwards again, done feeling sorry for herself. The problem was, with the self-pity gone, it made room for anger.

  The worst part about waiting for death was the time available to reflect. She thought about all the things she would do differently, but none of those things led her to Remus, so she could not wish it all away. Their time together was so fleeting, but for a moment she had felt everything she had been chasing—hope, happiness, a quiet inside her, a peacefulness she had never known was possible. She prayed he had felt it too, saw what his life could be if he just broke free of his invisible chains. He had finally fled the city, but she could not ignore the crushing feeling of abandonment. She should have known he could never watch her die.

  She waited at the gate with her guard, hands still shackled. Tacita stood on the other side of the passageway, jumping every time the crowd cheered. Mila tried not to think about what thrilled them so, what animal lay dead, which man had lost a limb and was bleeding out on the sand. Instead, she wondered if she would be given a weapon, if she would have to kill again, if she would have to do it over and over until her own wounds betrayed her.

  Footsteps made her look up. It was Albaus. Her gaze fell to the shackles around his wrists and the guard at either side of him. As they stared at one another, a heavy feeling settled in her stomach. A sobbing woman stood behind him. It was Vita, another one of Prisca’s servants. She had often run errands and delivered messages on behalf of her domina. Guilty by default.

  ‘Open up,’ a guard said.

  A man with sunburned skin and grey hair pulled a rope and the gate lifted in front of them.

  ‘What ab
out the whore?’ Tacita’s guard asked.

  ‘She can go in too.’

  Tacita looked at Mila, her vacant stare replaced with blazing fear.

  Albaus was first to step out onto the sand, casting a shadow over the three women who followed behind. The crowd grew noisy again, not cheering but shouting for blood.

  They were marched out into the middle of the arena, the sun directly above them. The emperor picked through a tray of food while chatting with the empress. He looked up briefly before returning to his conversation. The people before him were nobodies: slaves and whores, light entertainment, something to appease spectators until the main fights.

  Albaus’s dark eyes scanned the arena, his face hard. The guards removed all of the prisoners’ shackles before forming a line and marching back in the direction they had come. Mila’s hands felt light and empty. Silence fell over the crowd and the four of them moved closer together, Albaus crouching slightly, prepared for whatever came next.

  Gods, give me strength.

  A gate opened and a horse galloped into the arena. Vita began to pray aloud, and Tacita cowered behind Albaus. Mila watched the horse, trying to block out the noise and fear. She was trained to fight with bare hands if that was all she had, and she had every intention of fighting.

  Albaus must have had the same instincts, because he took a few steps towards the horse, stopping when it came to a halt halfway between them and the gate. The rider dropped a sword onto the sand, then another, and another, and another, before turning and galloping from the arena. Four swords, one for each condemned person.

  Mila shook her head. There was no way she was going to kill the others. If the emperor wanted them dead, he would have to find another way.

  Albaus straightened, clearly thinking the same thing, but when they heard the crank of a gate opening behind them, they looked at one another. Whatever came through that gate was coming for them. The people would get their show.

  ‘The swords,’ Mila said at the same time Albaus took off at a run in that direction. She sprinted after him, but before they could reach the weapons, the sand shifted in front of them. They skidded to a stop, watching as a trapdoor opened like a gaping mouth. A large spotted leopard jumped out from the underground tunnel, growling and disorientated. Mila staggered back, and the cat fixed its gaze on her.