by Tanya Bird
Her voice was washed away by the crowd, and judging by Severus’s expression, he was not interested in hearing from her.
‘The only person in the household who knew anything of Lady Prisca’s decision to enter the arena was her body slave, who killed herself immediately after the event,’ Nerva began.
‘This is not a trial,’ the emperor said.
‘My understanding is that there was no trial, despite evidence and a confession from Lady Prisca’s slave before her death.’
Jovian Fadius, who was seated among the senators, stood, pointing a finger in accusation. ‘That is hearsay,’ he shouted.
‘Except that it is not,’ Nerva replied, shaking the scroll in his hand. ‘This is a letter written by Lady Prisca before her death. A confession, one that clearly states Mila Salvius—or as you know her, Libertas—was unaware of the true identity of her opponent.’
There was murmur through the crowd.
‘She intentionally kept it a secret, knowing her slave would never agree to the match. She also intended for Mila to be freed if she won. And she did win.’
Jovian’s hand fell to his side. ‘Where did you get that?’
‘From the exact spot where Lady Prisca’s body slave said it would be.’
More murmurs, louder that time. The emperor waved a hand to silence the people. Nerva took advantage of the lull.
‘This morning I returned to Rome to learn that the woman who served loyally in my household for nineteen years had been sentenced to death for murder. Mila Salvius is many things—hardworking, loyal, stubborn.’ A whisper of laughter from the crowd. ‘But a murderer is not one of them.’
‘My wife is dead,’ Jovian said, stepping forwards. ‘And the slave you are defending is responsible for her death.’
Remus took a few steps towards the podium. ‘The moment Mila learned who her opponent was, she lay down her weapons. Lady Prisca died of her injuries. And every Roman there was a witness to the fact.’
Severus turned to Jovian, waiting for his reply.
‘If you are trying to tell me that girl did not know, you are wasting your breath,’ Jovian said.
Without missing a beat, Nerva said, ‘You are her husband, and you did not know.’
Applause broke out.
‘And what is your interest here, Senator?’ Jovian asked, his face hardening. ‘If you insist on defending my slave, you must tell the people why.’
Rufus Papias appeared at the edge of the podium. He stilled to listen. Nerva locked eyes with his father while everyone waited for his answer. Mila took a few steps towards him, and Remus reached out and stopped her.
‘Mila Salvius is not just a slave,’ Nerva said. ‘She is my sister.’ He gave the crowd time to react. ‘I taught her to fight when she was just a girl. I never expected her to be this good.’ Laughter. ‘She is slaveborn, but that is not a crime, it is a cycle—one she hoped to break. One I too hoped she would break.’
Mila swallowed, feeling as though her chest were being torn in two.
‘She is my sister,’ he said, louder that time. ‘And she was a pawn in a dangerous game she did not know she was playing.’ Nerva held up the scroll. ‘Prisca Fadius went into the arena to die,’ he shouted, looking at Jovian. The senator’s face was tight and red. ‘She was not unlike my sister, trapped in a life she did not want, trying to fight her way out. She bought my sister because she was a worthy opponent, and she turned her into a killer.’ The crowd was silent, everyone straining to listen. ‘No slave in their right mind would kill their domina in front of Rome. If she wanted to kill her, she could have done it at any time, without sixty-five thousand witnesses.’
Jovian Fadius’s shoulders fell and the people clapped.
‘I will tell you one more thing,’ Nerva said, waiting for silence. ‘I will not stand by while she is fed to starved animals and forced to battle men three times her size. That is not the Rome I serve.’
Applause erupted, and Mila jumped at the reaction. Remus’s arms wrapped her and she turned into them, trembling against him.
‘Mitte! Mitte!’ shouted the crowd. Let her go.
‘What is happening?’ she whispered into his chest.
Remus looked around. ‘Justice.’
The crowd drank up the sight before them: the slave girl who had won Remus Latinius’s heart, the gladiator prepared to die for her, and a senator of Rome speaking up for the vulnerable, speaking truths most in power preferred hidden.
Rufus Papias moved past the guards and approached the emperor, speaking to him in a low voice. When he stepped back, Severus raised a hand to silence everyone. It took some time to gain control of the spectators.
‘Mitte!’ they continued to shout. The word rumbling like trapped thunder.
Mila turned and looked at Severus, her heart beating against Remus’s arm. She still held the sword, prepared to fight, to die.
‘Senator Rufus Papias has asked that the slave girl before us, Mila Salvius, be permitted to return to serve in his household. I hereby call an end to the spectacle.’ He waved his hand. ‘Clear the arena.’
Applause broke out. The gate was raised again, and the gladiators began to file out.
Mila should have been relieved. Her life had been spared, and she had just been told that she would return to the household she had grown up in, to live again with her sister and mother—and her brother. She should have been happy. Instead, she was numb. Her life had just gone full circle. She was no better off than she had been a year ago.
Remus’s arms fell away and her skin grew instantly cold. Looking up at him, she saw her own disappointment reflected back at her. She realised in that moment that it was not the freedom she mourned—it was Remus.
He tried to smile at her. She was alive, after all; happiness was the logical response. She knew more than anything that he wanted her safe. Better to be apart than dead, he would say. Then what? She would return to the Papias household, her safe place, her work, her smiling sister watching over her, ensuring she was never again out of sight. Her muscles would decay, and the fire would burn out—the one Remus had breathed life into.
‘Mila!’
Nerva jogged forwards and crashed into her, laughing and thanking the gods. She watched Remus over Nerva’s shoulder, her arms limp at her sides.
The corpses around her were dragged away on hooks. She should have been among them. Instead, she would walk away. There would be no more fighting now. No more Remus.
He turned away from them, and she watched as he walked over to Albaus, pulling an arm around his shoulder and helping him from the arena. Nerva kept hold of her, practically dragging her towards the gate. Her legs moved of their own accord across the sand. Felix and Fausta walked ahead in silence, alive, handing their weapons over to the men waiting at the gate.
‘What is the matter?’ Nerva asked, looking at her. ‘Not the glorious ending you were hoping for?’
No, it was not the glorious ending she had been hoping for. Remus had already disappeared from sight.
Nerva hugged her closer. ‘You are in shock. I am taking you home to your sister and mother. Just keep walking.’
Her hands went over her ears to block the noise. ‘Where is Remus?’
‘Safe.’
Where is Remus?
Chapter 32
Ludus Magnus began to feel like a prison, the routine suffocating. Remus tired of the sight of men in shackles being marched to and from the arena. He tired of shouting at them, pushing them, beating them when they did not perform. As he sat with Felix on the steps of the cavea, watching two new recruits hit one another with wooden swords, he found himself turning away.
‘Run some laps,’ he called to them, wanting the noise to stop.
The sun had lost its bite, offering warm light instead of heat. He liked that time of the year, before the cold arrived.
‘Where did you disappear to this morning?’ Felix asked.
‘Nowhere.’ He hesitated, weighing up the lie. ‘The marke
t.’
Felix kept his eyes ahead. ‘I see. And was she there?’
Remus stared at the running men. ‘No. Haven’t seen her since… that day.’ The day he had gone to fight with her, die with her. The day he had realised his life without her was not really a life at all. Had it really been weeks since he had laid eyes on her?
‘You are lucky you are Brutus’s favourite around here. He lets you do as you please.’
‘Because I work hard.’
Felix leaned forwards. ‘Yes, when you are here.’
Remus knew he had it better than most. Brutus was aware that as a free man, Remus could choose a life anywhere, and yet he stayed. Sure, he was paid a fair wage, but that was not what kept him at Ludus Magnus—it was habit, and maybe fear. He knew nothing else, no other life.
He almost had.
‘This might not be my business—’
‘Best leave it, then.’
Felix turned, ignoring him. ‘However, Mila is a slave. Offer to buy her, then free her yourself. I know you have some denarii hidden away.’
‘Had some denarii.’ He gestured to Nero, who was crouched in the shade running a stick through the sand. When he realised Remus was looking at him, he stood, ready to do whatever was asked. Remus shook his head, and the boy sank back down.
‘Well, let that be a lesson to you,’ Felix said.
‘What lesson’s that? Only free slaves I want to marry?’
Felix tilted his head and nodded. ‘That works.’
‘I’ll be sure to keep it in mind for next time.’
Felix watched Nero for a moment. ‘I will admit, there are worse things to waste your wealth on. He has grown on me, despite my initial objections to him sharing our room.’
‘I thought you hated all children with no exceptions.’
‘Not children, babies. Only because of their helpless state. It frightens me.’
Remus suppressed a smile. ‘Only helpless babies. I see.’ He saw the gladiators had slowed considerably. ‘Move it!’ he called to them. They immediately lengthened their stride.
‘I cannot believe I am suggesting this, but why not return to the arena? You saw how the crowd responded. The emperor would pay you whatever you wanted. Then you could buy her freedom.’
Remus shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t matter how much coin I had. Rufus Papias isn’t going to sell his daughter to a gladiator.’
‘Aquila Papias might.’
‘Her family just got her back. They’re not going to let her go anywhere.’
Felix frowned. ‘Goodness. So heavy with woe. That is it, then? We shall feel sorry for ourselves and never speak of her again?’
‘I’m not feeling sorry for myself.’
‘Hmm.’
‘I’m being realistic. No point in getting people’s hopes up.’
‘People’s or yours?’ Silence. ‘Perhaps it is time you stopped thinking like a slave. You have been free for some years now, and yet you insist on carrying your shackles around with you.’
Remus rolled his eyes. ‘I feel a poem coming on.’
‘I am simply saying do not give up the fight the first time you drop your weapon. Mila’s mother seems like a reasonable woman. She is not going to deny her daughter a chance at happiness. Nerva will likely show his support, assuming of course his feelings are those of a sibling and nothing more sinister.’
Remus shoved him lightly with his shoulder. ‘Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s his sister.’
Straightening, Felix brushed off his hands. ‘I was part of that world once. It is not as uncommon as you might think.’ He thought for a moment. ‘There is one obstacle I may have overlooked.’
Remus narrowed his eyes. ‘What’s that?’
‘Perhaps she is content where she is, back inside her safe bubble. It is amazing the new perspective a near-death experience brings.’
Remus shook his head. ‘She’s not like that. She’s not one for bubbles. She wants to leave Rome.’
‘I swear to the gods, if you mention India—’
‘She wants to go to India,’ he said, smirking. He leaned his elbows on his knees. ‘We’ve both had enough of this city.’
‘So go to the country. That is what normal people do.’
Remus’s face turned serious. The possibility of a future together had only existed briefly. A few comments thrown around while caught up in the excitement of new love and the prospect of freedom. Yes, it had been brief, but he had felt it to his core, meant every word he had spoken. It was not the first time the subject of marriage had been raised after lying with a woman, but it was definitely the first time he had raised it.
His mind went back to that afternoon in the barracks, Mila nestled against him, his hands in her hair. She had been the most exquisite thing he had ever held, and he had thought of nothing else since. Of course he had to marry her. What other life was there? The first time he had seen her standing before Gallus Minidius, dressed in rags, carrying expensive swords, it had all been over.
‘Honestly,’ he said, returning to the conversation, ‘it wouldn’t matter where we went. I’d be happy any place if she was there and I got to call her my wife.’
A look of horror struck Felix’s face. ‘Can you hear yourself? Let us pray no one else heard. People will think you have lost your edge, and if I had not witnessed your heroic display in the arena some weeks back for myself, I might be inclined to agree.’
‘That’ll do,’ Remus called to the men, standing up. They collapsed on the sand, white-faced and panting.
‘Where are you going?’ Felix asked, then held up a hand. ‘Never mind.’
‘If Brutus asks, tell him—’
‘Yes, yes. Off you go.’
Remus ruffled the dwarf’s hair, and Felix swatted his hand.
‘You know I hate to be petted.’
‘I know.’ Remus broke into a jog.
He was almost at the house when he spotted Mila walking towards him, a basket swinging in her hand, her head bent so she could hear her sister. Dulcia was telling a story, gesturing wildly, a smile on her face. He stopped walking, content to go unnoticed for a while longer. Mila smiled, her dimple flickering and fading again. She swapped the basket to her other hand. Dulcia asked if she was all right, bringing a hand up to Mila’s shoulder, only to be shooed away. Remus watched the exchange, noting how Dulcia’s eyes moved over her sister and how Mila dismissed her concern.
‘Leave me,’ he thought she said. ‘I am fine.’
Why would she not be fine? He walked towards them, drinking in the sight of her. She spotted him then, and he saw her hesitate, as though actually considering turning around and walking in the other direction. For a moment, he questioned if he had done the right thing in coming. Perhaps she did not want to see him, was trying to move on. But then he remembered her face the moment the emperor had spared her life, enslaving her once more. He had seen it, the same disappointment that had crushed him.
Dulcia spotted him and took her sister’s hand, tugging it.
‘It is all right,’ Mila reassured her, glancing at the house that loomed between them. She gestured for Remus to cross the street, obviously not keen on having their conversation overheard by someone inside.
She stopped a few feet from him as though she did not trust having him closer. Dulcia watched him cautiously, keeping hold of her sister’s hand, ready to drag her off at any moment.
‘Good morning,’ Mila said, looking up at him.
His eyes moved over her face, looking for clues, wanting to see what was in her mind. Maybe he needed reassurance that nothing was lost between them. ‘Morning.’
She glanced nervously at the house. ‘What are you doing here?’
His gaze fell to the angry red line on her arm where a claw had caught her. ‘I’m hoping to speak with Nerva.’
‘About what?’
He caught something in her tone that made him turn back. She wore that hopeful expression that Nero did whenever he announced he was
going somewhere. ‘About you.’
‘Oh.’
‘Why else would I be here?’ He had not come to play games.
Mila studied him for a moment, her expression cautious. He did not like it when she was guarded around him.
‘They have gone south again,’ Dulcia said, speaking up. ‘Waiting for the gossip to die down.’
Remus’s eyes never left Mila’s. ‘Whose idea was that? Your father’s?’
Mila wrapped her free hand around her sister. ‘You should not call him that.’
He understood then. Rufus Papias may have saved her life, but nothing had changed. Now he was dealing with the fallout, including, no doubt, one very unhappy wife.
‘You should go,’ Dulcia went on, seeming much braver than the last time he had seen her. ‘One foot out of place and our domina will have Mila lashed. Those were her words.’
Remus eyes darkened. He remembered Aquila from the dinner party. She made no secret of the fact that she did not like Mila. Her son’s confession in front of the entire city would not have helped matters. ‘Has she lashed you?’
Mila tightened her grip on her sister. ‘She wanted to make a point. And she made it.’
His jaw tightened. ‘What point’s that?’
Rolling her eyes, Mila replied, ‘Let us not make a thing of it. It hurt less than the average training session with you.’
It was one thing to see her hurt in the arena while she was armed and able to defend herself, and quite another to imagine her tied up and flogged.
He stepped around her, and she turned with him.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked, panic in her voice.
‘Checking your back.’
‘No.’
‘Stay still.’
She sighed and stopped moving. He pulled down the neck of her tunic, aware of Dulcia’s glare on him. The tips of his fingers ran down her skin, taking him back to a time when they had ventured where they pleased. A ridge of skin made him stop. Pulling on the fabric, he saw the first red line. His hand continued down, slipping lower, counting the bumps, seven, eight, nine. He withdrew his hand as though he had been met with fire in the middle of her back.
