by Ryan Lew
The armored gladiator swung his sword with all his might. The bare-chested gladiator leapt backward, but it was not fast enough. The sharp metal tip caught his chest, cutting a downward slash. Blood spattered, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Justina gasped and took hold of her father’s arm.
Blood flowed from the gash, but the gladiator seemed unaffected. His attention remained squarely on his opponent. He dropped the net to the ground, stepped on it, and then began quickly spinning his trident in a wide circle. The move was unexpected by both his opponent and Justina. The armored gladiator reared back, then took a swipe at the trident. He missed, but instead of thrusting, the bare-chested gladiator scooped the net with the tip of his trident and pulled it with all his might. The legs of the armored gladiator came out from under him and he fell hard to the ground, landing flat on his back. The crowd erupted yet again, and Justina found herself moving to the edge of her seat. She was digging her nails into her father’s arm.
The bare-chested gladiator twirled the net high above his head, spinning it until it flattened out. In full swing, he launched the net at his opponent. The armored gladiator tried to stand, but it was too late. The net fell atop him, covering him completely. His opponent wasted no time. As the crowd cheered, he ran forward, planted his trident in the ground, and used it to pole-vault on top of the armored gladiator. He stepped on the man’s outstretched arm—the one holding the sword—and positioned his trident inches from the armored gladiator’s neck.
The crowd erupted in cheers. Justina tightened her grip. Livius winched.
The bare-chested gladiator remained in position; blood had covered his chest. He waited for the sign of mercy, or the pronouncement of death. The armored gladiator lay there for a moment, then slowly lifted two fingers. The crowd cheered, then began to chant, “Mercy, mercy, mercy.”
Livius pulled his daughter’s hand from his forearm. “The crowd is feeling generous today.”
Justina turned to her father and only then realized she had been digging her nails into his skin. She pulled her hand away. “Apologies, father.”
Livius laughed. “Your mother did worse the first time I brought her here.”
“Why did mother not attend today?” Herminius asked.
“I invited her to join us, but she was not feeling well and preferred to rest at home,” Livius explained.
The two Gladiators left the arena and preparations were made for the next conflict.
“How does Lucilius afford such amazing viewing seats?” Livius questioned aloud.
“He said his parents had these seats waiting for them.”
“I never knew his parents to attend the games.”
“Well, then he probably spent a month’s wages just to show gratitude for your hospitality,” Justina said. “It is the least he should do.”
“Mind your words, girl,” Atilius barked, leaning to look over at Justina. “He owes us nothing. We offer shelter and council because it is the right thing to do.”
Livius placed a hand on his son’s arm.
Atilius leaned back in his seat. “He did not pay for these seats,” he said. “They were given to him by his commander, Braccius.”
“That is Fabricius’ commander as well. Is it not?” Livius asked.
“It is a shame that Fabricius was summoned into patrol today. He may have enjoyed these fights,” Herminius said.
“How is it that a commander would come by such seats, and why would he then surrender those seats to an underling?” Livius wondered aloud.
Herminius leaned back in his seat so he could see Cato. “Have you ever witnessed gladiators, Cato?”
Justina turned in her seat as well, eager to hear his response.
Cato didn’t blink. “I have seen gladiators,” he answered, then directed his comments to Livius. “Gratitude for the offer extended to myself and Antonia,” he said and bowed his head. “It has been many years since my eyes witnessed these competitions.”
“We are happy to have you,” Livius replied.
Justina turned to Antonia and whispered, “Are you well?”
“Gratitude, I am well,” Antonia answered. She was standing just as Cato, keeping her eyes forward while holding the wine. Justina had not yet had a chance to give her the good news, but she knew, when she did, she would have her friend back.
When Justina did not look away, Antonia turned her head and asked, “Do you require anything, Domina?”
“I am fine for now,” Justina said and flashed a smile. It was not returned. Justina would have liked to say more, but before she could, Antonia returned her gaze forward.
“I will take drink,” Atilius said. Antonia moved to Atilius and poured the wine. Justina leaned forward in her seat. Atilius was staring at Antonia, trying to make his glare as obvious as possible. Though Antonia kept her gaze on Atilius’ glass, her hands began to shake. Cato reached out to touch her back. The move worked, and her hands stopped shaking. After she had filled the glass without incident, she returned to her position, smiling gratitude as she passed Cato.
Three more gladiators entered the arena to the cheers and jeers of the crowd.
“These gladiators, are they better suited for combat than the regular Roman Army?” Justina asked her father.
“They spend day and night, honing their skills until their very bodies are weapons,” Livius replied.
Justina was confused. “It is amazing to me that Rome was able to defeat Spartacus if his army was formed of such men.”
“Rome was fortunate indeed,” Livius said. “The majority of Spartacus’ followers were simple house slaves with no combat experience. And although he was a respected gladiator, Spartacus’ army held few in their ranks. If his numbers had been seventy thousand true gladiators, the outcome may have been vastly different. We may all have been slaves to the man.”
The crowd jeered as an unpopular gladiator gained an upper hand. Then cheered as their favorite regained his footing. The battle played out until the favorite was the only man left standing. Glorious cheers engulfed the arena as yet two more gladiators were allowed to limp off with their lives and, for the most part, their bodies intact.
“The main event is next,” said Livius. “There will be an intermission before it begins.”
Just then, Caesar and two body slaves entered their box.
“How find you today, good Livius?” Caesar asked.
Livius stood awkwardly. “Caesar,” he said. “What brings you to our box?”
“Truth be told, I am the reason for your appearance here today. I gave my Legatus these seats for you and your family to enjoy.”
There it was. The missing piece in the puzzle. “Gratitude for your hospitality,” Livius said.
While Livius’ attention was on Caesar, Crassus entered. Livius turned, and the two men locked eyes for the briefest of moments.
“Think nothing of it,” Caesar said. “Though I have to admit, good Crassus here owns all of the boxes in this area of the arena. He was kind enough to provide me with these seats.”
Livius extended his hand to Crassus. “Then gratitude to you as well.”
Crassus stepped forward and took hold of Livius’ hand. He squeezed it once, then shook. “It is the least I could do.” Livius nodded in appreciation. Caesar’s eye’s narrowed.
Livius noticed Crassus’ eyes move behind him. Who was he looking at? Livius wondered. Only Antonia and Cato were behind him. His children stood next to him. Crassus moved his head to the side, looking for a better view. Livius wanted to turn and look as well, but with Caesar present, he thought it better of it.
“Tell me, Livius, have you had chance to think on my proposition?” Caesar asked.
Crassus turned suddenly to Caesar.
Before Livius could answer, his son spoke up. “I am Herminius, Caesar. Yes, father has spoken to me and I am in agreement. Anything for the betterment of Rome.”
Livius tried to hide the shock that was, most assuredly, showing on his face. He had yet to
speak to his son about the proposition and certainly did not expect Herminius to answer for him.
Caesar smiled and turned to Herminius. “All that we do is for the betterment of Rome,” he said, extending his hand. “I look forward to hearing more of your reports in the weeks to follow.”
While his son shook Caesar’s hand, Livius was once again caught by Crassus’s gaze. As before, he was trying his best to look behind Livius. This time, Crassus stepped to the side. Livius kept a wary eye on him but made sure to keep his attention on Caesar and his son.
“I was hoping to hear this good news and, in anticipation of it, I have given your son a great honor,” Caesar said to Livius. “The reason he was summoned for patrol today. Keep eyes on the middle of the arena and see appreciation paid. Now, I must take leave.” He turned to go then stopped. “Was your wife not invited?” he asked, turning back to Livius.
“She took ill and needed much rest,” Livius said.
“I hope she feels better soon. Maybe one day, I shall meet her. Until then,” Caesar said, and turned to leave. Crassus took another step toward Livius, trying to get one last look at whoever was behind him.
“Are you coming, Crassus?” Caesar asked.
Crassus turned first to Caesar, then back to Livius. Confusion painted his face.
“Crassus,” Caesar repeated.
Crassus followed Caesar out of the box, walking as if lost. Livius had seen that look before. It came when a man was trying to reach into the recesses of his mind and coax a memory back to life. Livius turned to Cato. He was standing, arms folded, looking forward.
“Jupiter shines on our family brightly!” Atilius said with a broad smile. As his youngest son basked in the family’s fortune, Livius glanced quietly at Herminius, his eyes searching for explanation.
“Brutus had already been aware of requests,” Herminius said. “He filled me in, and I am in agreement with the arrangement.”
Livius wasn’t sure what to say. He had intended to speak to his son and explain the situation—the benefits, and the drawbacks. At the least, he had wanted to take part in the decision. He did not appreciate being left out and was about to express his displeasure when the horns blasted announcing the main event. Livius turned to find the crowd cheering, looking at Caesar, who was now standing in his own box.
“Romans!” Caesar said. “Gratitude for coming to see the mighty gladiators pay homage to Rome.” The crowd cheered loudly. Caesar raised his hands to calm them. “But the great Caesar has another offering for you. Just recently, several slaves have felt the need to betray their masters.” At that moment, five chained slaves—three men and two women—were dragged into the middle of the arena and forced to kneel.
“They tried to flee Rome,” Caesar said. “We give these ingrates the opportunity to serve us and this is how we are repaid?” The crowd erupted in jeers and boos. “Not while Caesar has something to say about this.” His words brought the crowd to their feet. He waited, allowing their cheers to fill the arena, before continuing, “Witness Roman justice by three of my respected legionnaires.”
Three men walked into the arena to the delight of the crowd. They made their way to the center and stood behind the slaves. The first of the three removed his helmet. It was Lucilius. Justina gasped loudly. Livius turned to his daughter and found the same stunned look he likely had himself. The second soldier removed his helmet as well to reveal Braccius, the Legatus. He held his gladius up high as the crowd cheered.
The third legionnaire did not remove his helmet. Livius thought he might know why.
“You may begin the justice!” Caesar called out.
Braccius didn’t hesitate. He shoved his gladius into the back of one of the male slaves, the pointed end piercing his chest. Blood pooled at the slave’s mouth. Braccius placed his boot against the slave’s back and pulled out his sword. He held it up to show the roaring crowd. The slave coughed, spit out blood, and then fell forward, dead. Braccius moved quickly to the second man. Coming up behind him, he slid his gladius across the slave’s throat, severing his jugular. Blood poured from the slave’s neck. The crowd rose to their feet in loud appreciation.
Atilius clapped and cheered, standing all the while. Lucilius followed his commander’s lead and shoved his sword into the back of the remaining male slave. The crowd cheered, and Lucilius laughed as the man fell dead. Like his commander, Lucilius held up his sword to show off the blood. He then walked to the front of the slaves and stopped before one of the females. He looked down into her face, then turned and pointed his gladius. He was pointing it at Justina. Livius looked over at his daughter and saw the horror in her face. Herminius stood, mouth agape. Atilius was jumping up and down. Antonia went to cover her eyes but was stopped by Cato. He placed his hand on her arm and shook his head.
Lucilius turned back to the slave and shoved his gladius directly into her chest. She screamed out, coughed blood, and then collapsed. The crowd’s cheers were deafening. Lucilius held his sword high and walked around the arena drinking in the crowd. The third legionnaire simply stood there. The final slave was sobbing visibly. Braccius turned to the man. The Legatus motioned with his sword and said something, but the crowd was far too loud for Livius to hear his words.
The legionnaire drew his gladius slowly and walked over to the woman. He looked up at the crowd, and for a moment, Livius could have sworn he was looking directly at his daughter. The legionnaire hesitated, then shoved his sword into the female slave’s back, killing her instantly. The crowd roared, then began chanting Caesar’s name.
“Caesar, Caesar, Caesar…”
Everyone stood. Everyone except Justina and her father. Livius noticed and quickly stood. He took hold of his daughter’s arm. “Stand,” he said. Justina looked up at her father. She resisted at first but stood when he pulled her up.
Braccius and Lucilius held their gladius’ high for the crowd. The third legionnaire did not follow suit. When Lucilius saw that the soldier was not joining in the revelry, he ran behind him, pulled off the man’s helmet, and tossed it aside. Livius was not surprised to see his oldest son revealed.
“No!” Justina cried out. She fell limp.
Cato moved to catch her.
Antonia dropped the jug of wine. It shattered in a shower of liquid.
Livius turned sharply to Caesar. When their eyes met, Caesar smiled.
Chapter 28
Servilia was sitting on her couch enjoying a foot massage when another slave entered the room and announced she had a visitor. “Show her in,” Servilia said, more than a little annoyed she had to cut the massage short. She dismissed the female slave at her feet, slipped her sandals back on, and sat more upright in the chair.
The slave came back in the room, followed by a woman dressed in flowing robes, nice robes, ones that showed she had an amount of wealth, but not too much. She was a striking woman, with dark hair and piercing eyes. She moved with an air of confidence. Servilia recognized her right away.
“Hello, Alba,” she said, without standing. “Welcome to my home.”
Alba’s face betrayed her surprise. “Apologies for coming unannounced.”
Servilia always enjoyed having the upper hand—something she learned from Caesar. She relished it now, watching Alba try not to be caught off guard by her instant recognition.
“You have a lovely little place here,” Alba said. “Seems cozy for both you and your son.”
“Please, have a seat,” Servilia motioned toward the chair next to her. “May I offer you drink?”
“Gratitude.”
Servilia motioned for a slave to bring wine. As Alba’s glass was filled, Servilia examined the woman who had stolen Livius’ heart so long ago. She was attractive. More so than Servilia had expected. Servilia hadn’t actually recognized her—having never seen her before—but she had the distinct look of a woman protecting her territory.
Alba took a sip of the wine she had been poured. “This is quite nice. You have good taste.”
&
nbsp; Servilia smiled. “My good taste is not limited to wine only.”
“That seems to be true.” Alba said, without hesitation. “At one point, my husband was to your taste.”
“Ah yes, the one that got away,” Servilia said, pausing a moment as if to reflect. “We were but kids when we found admiration for one another.” Her mind quickly went to the last meeting between her and Livius, as if it had just occurred. He was so handsome in his youth. Strong and virile. The attraction had been both mutual and immediate. Their affair was one not soon forgotten. But that was not what she was recalling just now. That was not the case with their last meeting, the one where he told her Alba was with child. The one where he told her he could no longer see her. The one scorched into her memory. She let him go that day without one last kiss.
“Too many moons have passed since those feelings,” Servilia said and took a slow drink before continuing. “I would assume your presence is due to our meeting the other day? I assure you, I had nothing to do with it and was as surprised as Livius appeared to be.”
It was Alba’s turn to take a slow drink.
“Were you not bound for the arena today?” Servilia asked, deliberately breaking Alba’s pause.
Alba sat back in the chair and crossed her legs. “I did not suspect you would call for such a meeting. Livius should have earned Caesar’s respect over the years. He is a good man, a good father, a good provider, a good Roman.”
“The arena?” Servilia said, ignoring Alba’s comment.
“It was mentioned to me, but fights of that nature bore me. I thought it time you and I meet. Your son is a frequent guest in my house, and I am reminded of your previous admiration for what is now mine.”
Servilia smiled. “You know I am spoken for these days.”
“I know what I hear from several Roman mouths,” Alba countered. “Your boyfriend is quite married. That cannot be easy for you.”
“His marriage is for show,” Servilia said easily. “His feelings are mine to command. He is a very powerful boyfriend.”
