A Gladiator's Oath

by Tanya Bird

  She rolled her head to look at him. ‘Is that so hard to believe, that someone might want to marry me?’

  ‘Of course not. You have a sort of boyish charm about you that might attract a particular type of lower-class man.’

  ‘Goodness, do not make me blush again.’

  He turned to face her. ‘So what did you say? When he asked you to marry him?’

  She stared at her knees. ‘I was one day from freedom when he just spat it out. I should have said no.’

  ‘But you didn’t.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not? Because you love him?’

  She looked at him, a warmth spreading through her. ‘More than that. I trust him with my life.’

  Nerva whistled. ‘That is rather a big deal for you.’

  ‘There is not a person alive who cares about my happiness more than he did.’

  Nerva went to object and then reconsidered. ‘That might actually be true. The rest of us are just trying to stop you from killing yourself. Your happiness is secondary.’ He winked at her, then asked, ‘You do actually miss him, then?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have you seen him since you sent him marching?’

  Another nod. ‘Once.’

  ‘How did that go?’

  ‘Good, actually.’ Her body warmed at the memory. ‘For a moment, I felt like I could breathe again.’

  Nerva stared at her in the dark. ‘Well, it certainly sounds like love, but what would I know?’

  She picked up a stone and tossed it. ‘No seaside love affair for you, then?’

  ‘Nothing like yours.’ He picked up the cup, saw it was empty and put it back down. ‘I am curious about something.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  Nerva glanced across at her. ‘All you wanted was your freedom. You have whined about it for years. Then in rides your heroic gladiator—’

  ‘Walks.’

  ‘In walks your heroic gladiator, prepared to return to the arena in order to buy your freedom, and you decline.’ He shook his head, trying to understand. ‘Why? Were you afraid he would get killed?’

  She blinked, her eyes growing heavy. ‘No. I was afraid of what it would do to Mother and Dulcia. I cannot leave them a second time.’

  He nodded. ‘The ultimate sacrifice. Your own happiness for theirs.’ He frowned. ‘I almost feel sorry for you.’

  ‘Do not do that. Your pity would be unbearable,’ she said, smiling.

  He picked up a stone. ‘If it makes you feel any better, my mother will likely have final say over who I marry, so I might reserve all my pity for myself.’

  ‘That definitely helps,’ she said, laughing. It felt good. ‘At least she will be wealthy and fertile. What more could a young Roman senator ask for?’

  ‘Would it be too greedy to ask for nice? Too shallow to ask for pretty?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I shall settle for wealthy and fertile.’

  Mila stifled a yawn. ‘Still, I cannot be too sympathetic.’

  ‘Of course not. Father is the same. Perhaps you get your stilted emotional capacity from him.’

  It was the first time Nerva had ever mentioned the blood connection, and she had no idea how to respond. She stared at him, fighting discomfort.

  ‘What?’ He leaned back as though she might sneeze on him.

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing. It is just that he has always been your father.’

  Nerva threw the stone, his worst throw for the evening. ‘Actually, he has always been our father, but you know, propriety and all that.’

  ‘Now is not the time to do away with propriety, Senator.’

  He smiled. ‘As always, our conversations remain between us.’

  ‘I cannot afford to have you banished too often.’ Another yawn. ‘I need to go to bed.’ She patted his leg and stood. As she went to leave, he slid a foot out to trip her. She jumped over it, glaring at him over her shoulder. ‘Child.’

  ‘Prude.’

  The following morning, Mila helped Germana prepare cena in the kitchen. She placed chicken pieces into a pot with honey, oil, and herbs from the garden. Dulcia was kneading dough, a dusting of flour on her arms and chin where she had scratched her face moments earlier. She hummed a tune, making it up as she went along, unaware that she was being watched. Mila’s chest squeezed at the sight. Her sister grew more beautiful by the day, and yet remained so frighteningly naive. In a few weeks she would be thirteen, and Mila suspected men were about to take notice of her budding sibling.

  Dulcia looked up and caught her staring. ‘What is the matter?’ Her face was suddenly serious.

  Always assuming the worst. ‘You have flour on your chin.’

  Dulcia wiped at it, only adding to the mess. ‘Better?’

  Mila kept her face blank. ‘Much.’ She looked down, placing the lid on the pot, enjoying the aromas wafting up at her. She slid it towards Germana, who took it without thanks. ‘You are very welcome.’

  A smile formed on Dulcia’s face but she did not look up, probably too scared to be caught by the cook.

  ‘Mila,’ came her mother’s voice behind her.

  She turned, eyebrows raised in question.

  ‘A word, please.’

  Mila glanced at Dulcia, smiling reassuringly, before following her mother to the back of the house where the servants slept. She stepped inside the small room they shared and looked around. Tertia pulled the curtain shut behind them, the closest thing they could get to privacy.

  ‘Goodness, what is with all the secrecy?’ Mila asked, keeping her tone light. When her mother turned, Mila could see she was close to tears. ‘What on earth is going on?’

  Tertia tried to compose herself, drawing a deep breath before speaking. ‘Last night I went looking for you in the garden. I heard you talking with Nerva.’

  Mila tried to remember what they had said. The answer was usually nothing of any substance, but they had covered a few topics that were not for the ears of others. ‘You should not take anything I say to Nerva too seriously.’

  Her mother sniffed, looking at her with such tenderness that Mila felt panicked.

  ‘All right, you need to tell me what has you so upset. What did I say? There was wine involved and every chance I might not remember.’

  ‘It was nothing you said, more what you did not say.’

  Mila shook her head, confused. ‘What are you talking about? Surely I cannot be in trouble for things I did not say.’

  Tertia glanced at the curtain. ‘And how you sounded—resigned and hopeless.’

  Mila let out a relieved breath. ‘Goodness, is that all? I have been that way for years.’ She tried to smile. ‘Why the tears now?’

  Tertia’s expression did not change. ‘I have always thought you restless, quite spoiled. I think I really believed that after all this, you would see your situation differently.’

  ‘I do.’ Mila watched as her mother wiped a tear from her cheek, still unsure what was happening. ‘Why are you crying? You were right. It is enough.’ She gestured around the room. ‘This is enough. It just took me a little longer to figure that out.’

  ‘But it is not enough for a woman like you.’ Tertia took a moment to select her words. ‘I have spent your entire life trying to contain that fire in you. After you… after the incident in the arena—’

  ‘My failed execution?’

  Her mother recoiled at the words. ‘I thought we could resume our life together, without the threat of being burned—’

  ‘I am not being painted in a very positive light right now.’

  ‘I never imagined that fire would be completely extinguished. It is not easy for a mother to see such a deep change in her child.’ Tertia stared at her, eyes shiny. ‘The truth is I did not know how to handle you. You see, I am more like Dulcia, and she is happy here. This is enough for her.’

  ‘What? Dulcia wanted freedom as much as I did.’

  Her mother shook her head. ‘No, she wants to be with y
ou. You want another life, and she wants to follow.’

  As hard as that was for Mila to hear, she knew it was probably true. ‘So you brought me in here to tell me you have just figured out that I am a lost cause?’

  Tertia shook her head and wiped her nose with her hand. ‘I brought you here to give you this.’ She pulled a small scroll from an inside pocket and held it out.

  Mila just stared. ‘What is it?’

  Her mother glanced down at the waxy paper. ‘Your freedom.’

  Mila felt blood rush to her head. She did not move. Her hands remained where they were, the scroll between them. ‘What?’

  ‘In all the years I have lived here, in his house, I can honestly say I have rarely asked Rufus for anything. I am not one for expensive gifts. I have everything I need. But last night when he sent for me, I asked that he free you and your sister—and he agreed.’

  Mila shook her head. ‘I do not understand.’

  ‘He is announcing it to the rest of the household as we speak. When he is able, he will register you both as citizens.’

  Mila’s hands tingled. ‘He… he just said yes?’

  ‘He listened to what I had to say, and he agreed to it.’ Tertia took Mila’s hand and closed her fingers around the papers. ‘I realise now that I should have asked for this some time ago, and for that I am sorry.’ She studied her daughter. ‘I was afraid. I thought I was doing what was best for you.’ When Mila did not say anything, she continued. ‘Of course, Dulcia will stay here with me, at least for now.’

  Mila struggled to process everything. ‘So I am to leave?’ she asked, feeling strangely exiled.

  ‘You can stay if you wish, continue as you have been, food and bed in exchange for work, but we both know that is not what you want.’

  No, that was not what she wanted. For the first time in her life she was allowed to leave, go wherever she chose, and the decision was paralysing her.

  Tertia pulled her close, gripping her tightly. ‘It is all right,’ she whispered. ‘We will be fine without you.’

  Tears spilled down Mila’s cheeks. ‘How can I leave when he keeps you a slave?’ Her voice broke.

  Tertia breathed into Mila’s hair, her shoulders collapsing. ‘Look at all he has done for me. My girls are free.’

  ‘Is that really enough for you?’

  Her mother pulled away, a wide smile on her face. ‘Is that enough? Mila, what more could I want? Besides, this is my home. Where would I go that is better than here?’

  Where would she go? ‘I do not think I can leave.’

  Tertia gripped her harder, tears falling. ‘It is natural to feel afraid. It is a lot at once.’

  ‘Dulcia—’

  ‘Will be fine. This is not goodbye. You are not being separated.’ She wiped at another tear. ‘It is time for you to live the life you fought so hard for.’ She rubbed Mila’s arms. ‘Go to Remus. Go to your gladiator. If he loves you as I suspect he does, then go to him. That is what you want, is it not?’

  She nodded, something shifting within her. Her fear giving way to hope.

  ‘I am free to leave? Right now, if I choose?’

  Her mother’s face collapsed for a moment. ‘Right now. If that is what you truly want.’ She leaned forwards and kissed Mila’s face. ‘You are free.’

  Chapter 36

  Dulcia surprised Mila by not crying when she heard the news. Instead, she helped her sister gather the few belongings she owned, including a coin pouch Nerva had handed her when he came to see her after the announcement. No one made a fuss, despite all of them feeling the change.

  ‘I would feel a lot better if you cried and carried on for a bit,’ Mila said as she hugged her sister goodbye.

  ‘After months of watching Aquila hurt you, I feel only relief. Remus will take care of you. He loves you. I saw it that day he came to the house.’

  It was possible that her sister was finally growing up. Mila stared down at her sister. Remus. Hearing his name was like opening floodgates. What would he say of the news? Perhaps he had moved on from the whole thing. She could not blame him for that. ‘You do not feel abandoned?’

  ‘Not if you promise to come back, promise not to disappear forever.’

  She hugged her sister close. ‘Give me some time, and I promise I will come back to you.’

  As she walked through the atrium, the front door in sight and her heart drumming inside her chest, she glanced inside the tablinum. Rufus sat behind the large table, quill in hand. She stopped walking and waited for him to look up. They stared at one another for a moment, and then she did something she had never done in her life: she bowed, all the way to the ground. She looked at him as she straightened, trying to read his expression. He gave nothing away, nodding once in her direction before returning to his work.

  She turned away and kept walking, exiting the atrium, striding through the vestibulum until she reached the door. Her hand hovered near the handle for a moment, and she wondered if she might change her mind. Shaking her head, she pulled the door wide open and stepped through it. That first gulp of outside air was like a cool drink on a hot day. She drank greedily, choking up at all she was feeling. She stood on the top step for a moment, eyes closed and hands shaking. The cold air made her feel alive.

  When she finally opened her eyes, she saw a large man sitting on a tall horse waiting at the bottom of the steps. It was Albaus. She immediately broke into a run, taking the steps two at a time, falling against his thick leg when she reached the bottom.

  ‘Did Nerva tell you the news?’ she asked, looking up at him.

  There was light in his eyes as he handed her a note. She took it from him and unrolled it.

  * * *

  Mila,

  * * *

  You did not think I would let you out into the world without a trusted bodyguard, did you?

  Before you scold me for giving you a slave, he comes to you a freed man. He serves you not by law, but out of loyalty. He told me so himself.

  All right, bad joke.

  Make sure you feed the poor man.

  * * *

  Your brother,

  Nerva

  * * *

  Mila fought the urge to run back inside and hug him, but the thought of running into Aquila, who had managed to remain hidden for the morning, stopped her.

  She looked up at Albaus. ‘Only come with me if you want to.’

  He nodded and leaned down, extending a hand twice the size of her own. She slipped the note into the canvas bag filled with her belongings and took hold of his hand, pulling herself up behind the saddle. Albaus turned his head, waiting for instructions. She pulled her palla over her head and hugged the bag to her chest.

  The thought of showing up at Ludus Magnus after all this time made her hands damp. What if Remus had moved on? Erased her? Fallen in love with someone… easier? But she had not moved on. Nothing had changed for her. She had no choice but to go to him, and no desire to go anywhere else.

  ‘What are your thoughts on visiting Remus?’

  A grunt, and the horse walked forwards.

  She turned to watch the Papias household shrink behind her, her family, her entire world, disappearing. A stiff wind blew. She used Albaus’s back as a shield against it, brushing aside tears before they froze on her cheeks.

  Remus rented a room in the city, explaining to the owner that they would only need it for a few nights while they finalised their travel plans. The three of them had sat in the small room, bewildered. Felix had remained surprisingly calm despite the fact that he would soon board a ship to Myos Hormos in Egypt. Nero had done nothing but bounce around, hungry for adventure, until Felix shouted at him to be still and stop that incessant smiling.

  On their final day in Rome, Remus paced, feeling guilty at having uprooted all their lives. He was having second thoughts but was too proud to admit it. He needed to go. There was no logical reason for him to remain in the city.

  ‘Ever been seasick?’ Felix asked Nero. ‘You will wish
yourself dead.’

  ‘I’ve never even been on a boat,’ replied the boy, his excitement infectious.

  ‘Gods help us.’ Felix looked up at Remus. ‘Let us go. The horses will be waiting to take us to the port.’

  Remus nodded and looked around the room, feeling as though he had left something behind.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Nero asked, reading his mind.

  He gave the boy a shove towards the door. ‘Nothing. Time to go.’

  Outside, two slaves waited with two mares.

  ‘I hate horses,’ Felix said, stepping past Remus.

  ‘I got the shortest ones I could find,’ Remus called to his back, suppressing a smile.

  As they were loading the mares with supplies, Felix made it clear that he would not share his horse for fear the boy would cause him to fall. Remus was only half listening while trying to ignore the growing feeling in his chest, the one that told him not to go. His mind went to Mila, like it always did, and he realised it was not fear keeping him anchored to the city—it was her. He wondered if he should send word that he was leaving, that he had done it, walked away from the gladiator life and the city that had imprisoned him for so long. He could send the message to Nerva. Perhaps she would not care to hear it.

  He turned away from the horse and looked off down the street that would lead them west to Ostia Antica, the harbour where their ship waited. That was when he saw her, standing in the middle of the road, a still figure amid chaos, watching him.

  Mila.

  The palla slipped down her head, coming to rest on her shoulders. Pieces of hair blew about her face, and she made no effort to tidy them. They continued to look at one another. For a moment he thought he might be hallucinating as people stepped past her, moving as though she were not standing in their way. She looked every bit a goddess—a stark contrast to the sunburned sweat-soaked girl he had trained months earlier, but every bit as beautiful.