by Ryan Lew
“Cato runs an errand, sent by your mother.”
Fabricius slid his hand down to the hilt of his gladius. “And the other slaves?”
Lucilius smiled. “Fabricius, we know of your love for Justina. We also know that she is not the daughter of a Legatus. The pain she has caused you will soon be repaid with her life.”
“Her life?” Fabricius repeated.
“Bounty is too high to ignore. I am sure your brother will give you a taste to help mend broken heart. We take her tonight and turn her in to the senate tomorrow.”
“Is that so?” Fabricius said and drew his sword.
“I warned you last time you had sharp object in hand pointed at me that it would be your last,” Atilius said. “As much as I want the reward, killing the daughter of Spartacus would be reward enough for me.”
Justina made the first move. She rushed toward Atilius, slashing downward from high above her head. Atilius moved into a blocking position and when he did, Justina turned and kicked him behind the knee, knocking him to the ground as her sword collided with his. She jumped over Atilius and headed out of the room. She turned left and ran toward the peristylium. Atilius jumped up quickly and gave pursuit.
He arrived only steps behind her, but that was all she needed. “Get away from close quarters whenever you can,” Fabricius had told her. “A one-on-one fight out in the open is always preferred. There is more room to maneuver.” She had tricked Atilius once, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to get away with it again.
“Your skills have improved, slave,” Atilius said as he entered the peristylium. He began walking to his left in a large circle, Justina followed suit. “It would appear you and my brother did more in the sparring room than just climb on top of each other.”
Justina didn’t answer. She just circled. All of Fabricius’ training was playing in her head. “Don’t look too long at your opponent’s eyes,” Fabricius told her. “They can be used to deceive you. Best pay attention to his body. Watch how it moves. A fighter reveals his actions by how he shifts his weight.”
Atilius took two more steps to the left, and then slowly shifted his weight to his back leg. When he rushed forward, Justina was ready.
“I had hoped it would not come to this,” Lucilius said and pulled the gladius from behind his back. You make grave error in your choices lately, brother.”
“You are no brother of mine,” Fabricius said.
“This is no longer business of yours. It would be better if you just remained here and let me assist Atilius. He can be very rash and a dead Justina is of no use to us. I do not want to harm you, but I will if you choose to interfere.” Lucilius pointed his sword at Fabricius.
Fabricius moved closer to Lucilius, the sword still pointing at him. He had seen Lucilius in action, practicing with the other recruits. His skills were formidable, but not as good as he thought them to be. He continued forward until the point of the sword was inches from his chest. Lucilius was standing all wrong. Moving forward, Fabricius had taken him by surprise, and his weight was on his back foot. He would have to transfer that weight to his front to make a proper thrust.
“I will give you one chance to get out of my way,” Fabricius said, looking him directly in the eyes. He could see the sweat beginning to form on Lucilius’ brow. “If you do not move, I will go through you.”
“Then you will have to go through me, brother.”
“Gladly!”
Lucilius transferred his weight to his front foot and started a thrust. Fabricius spun to the side, blocking the thrust with his gladius, as his body completed the spin, he balled up his hand and hit Lucilius on the side of the head. The blow sent him flying. He was stunned, but he did not fall. Instead, he made a half-hearted attempt at slashing Fabricius. A move, which Fabricius easily countered.
Fabricius sensed that he had stunned Lucilius, and when the boy rushed at him haphazardly, his senses were confirmed. He blocked the slash and countered with another hit to his back; this time, Lucilius crashed into the dining table and if it hadn’t been there, he would have fallen for sure. His path free, Fabricius started toward the hall and Justina’s room.
Lucilius picked up a cup from the table and launched it at Fabricius, striking him in the back of the head. It was just enough to slow him down. He turned and ran over to Fabricius and, before the centurion could recover, he slashed Fabricius’ arm.
Justina easily sidestepped Atilius, hitting him in the back with the hilt of her gladius. He winced in pain. When he caught his footing, he turned on her and rushed a second time, slashing with each step. Justina tried to side step him, but he was too fast, and before she knew it, he was on her slashing, repeated blows, one after another. The barrage of strikes was becoming too much. Atilius was too strong for her. One of the blows connected with her arm, slashing a deep gouge. She cried out in pain. Atilius smiled. “If you would like to die tonight, I will accommodate your wish,” he said and began anew.
“Slashing is rhythmic,” Fabricius had told her. “You have to spot the rhythm, then wait for the opening.” One, two, three, the blows came as Atilius stepped closer. One, two, three, they came and Atilius was on top of her. One, two, three. This time, Justina ducked on the third blow. As Atilius was preparing for another strike, she punched the side of his knee, causing it to buckle. She rushed forward and before Atilius could recover, she had pushed through him.
Fabricius looked down at the cut in his arm. The blood was beginning to flow.
“We are both well versed in Roman fighting, brother. I can continue this as long as you.”
“I gave you an opportunity to step aside and you did not take it,” Fabricius said. “You are leaving me little choice.”
“You are ready to take the life of a Roman over a slave. For what? Love? A centurion can never love a slave!”
Lucilius rushed Fabricius, spinning his gladius as he advanced. It was a foolish maneuver. A true fighter never allowed his sword to be loose in his hand. In battle, it was always best to keep a firm grip, lest your opponent snatch the blade and use it against you. Fabricius waited until Lucilius was right upon him before he moved. Lucilius raised his hand above his head and began a downward strike, but before he could get a good hold on his gladius, Fabricius bent down and slashed his sword across both of Lucilius’ shins. The pain, unexpected, caused him to lose the grip on his sword. As his arm came down, Fabricius stood and blocked the attack, knocking the sword from Lucilius’ hand.
Lucilius fell hard to the ground.
Fabricius walked over and picked up Lucilius’ sword. “Stay down,” he told him. Blood was coming from Lucilius’ shins. He stumbled as he tried to stand. “Stay down!” Fabricius repeated, more forcefully, but Lucilius didn’t listen. Once he had firm footing, he pulled a dagger from the back of his waist belt and rushed Fabricius again. This time, Fabricius did not step aside. As Lucilius came, he dropped both of his swords and grabbed Lucilius’ arm, flipping him over with his hip.
“Stay down,” he said again. Lucilius stood and Fabricius shook his head. Then he realized what was happening. Lucilius wasn’t trying to win. He was only stalling Fabricius. How foolish of him not to recognize that. He was wasting time here. He needed to stop Atilius before he killed Justina, or she killed him. He picked up Lucilius’ sword. His eyes narrowed. This time, when Lucilius rushed, Fabricius rushed back, and as Lucilius approached, he ran Lucilius’ sword through him. Lucilius looked at Fabricius in shock. He clutched the gladius and fell to his knees.
It was not a deathblow. “It was not my intention to kill you,” Fabricius said. “You will yet live.”
Lucilius looked up at Fabricius. “I will live!” he shouted. “And I will share with the entire world your love and dedication for a slave girl. I will make you the laughing stock of Rome. You have just killed your entire family for your actions. They will be punished!”
Fabricius picked up his gladius. He looked at the blade for a moment, and then walked over to Lucilius, who was t
rying to catch his breath. “I never got to repay you for removing my helmet in the arena,” he said, then thrust his sword into Lucilius’ heart. Blood spewed from Lucilius’ mouth and as Fabricius removed the sword, Lucilius fell forward. “Gratitude,” Fabricius said and ran to Justina.
Atilius was breathing heavy. He had put all his energy into the barrage of swings and was struggling. She heard Fabricius’ words, “Let your opponent make the mistakes. Use his weaknesses against him.” Atilius’ main weakness was his anger. She could use that.
“Why can’t you finish me, brother? I thought you a hero for the Romans. I am but a slave. Can you not beat a slave?”
Atilius’ face hardened. “I will send you to the afterlife!” he yelled and rushed forward.
It was exactly what Justina had hoped he would do. “A rush in anger is easily defeated,” Fabricius had told her. As Atilius came forward, he raised his arm, preparing for a full, downward swing. Justina waited for just the right moment, and then stepped aside. She spun around, raising her gladius to the right position, and as Atilius passed, she sliced his throat.
She could not see the look of shock on his face as he fell to the ground. Partially because he was not looking at her, but mostly because she was not looking at him. The spin had placed her back toward him. When she turned, he was already on the ground. She walked over to him and looked down. His body was convulsing as the life drained from him. “It is a slave who just sent you to the afterlife,” she said.
“No!” The cry came, startling her, as Fabricius ran past. When he arrived at Atilius, the convulsing had subsided. He turned his brother over and saw the slash in his neck. He looked up at Justina, tears in his eyes.
“What have you done?” Alba yelled out, seeing her youngest son in a pool of blood.
Justina rushed over to Alba, clenching her gladius, still dripping with blood. “This is your doing.”
“Justina, no!” Fabricius cried out.
Justina kept going. “You made all this happen,” she said to Alba. “And now I will have my justice for what you did to Antonia.” She lifted her sword and held it against Alba’s throat.
“Justina, stop!” Fabricius yelled again. “If you ever loved me, you will not take my mother from me.”
Justina looked at Alba, fear was in her eyes.
“Please,” Fabricius said.
She looked into his pleading eyes, then closed her own. Everything had been taken from her, and this was the woman who had done the taking. She deserved to die. But Justina loved Fabricius, how could she do that to him?
She opened her eyes and turned to Alba. “You always wanted me to find a man to love. When I did, you took that from me. One day, you will suffer for your actions.” She looked over again at Fabricius, and then slashed Alba on the arm. Alba cried out in pain.
“Tonight, I only give you a reminder of what you have done,” Justina said and pushed Alba to the ground. “Every time you see this scar, remember that a slave caused it.”
Justina walked toward the front door. Fabricius ran to meet her.
“Where will you go?” he asked her.
“That is no longer of this family’s concern,” she said, turning to face him. “Our relationship is sealed, my hand forced by the actions of another.” She looked into his eyes. There was only pain. “I will always love you, Fabricius,” she said and kissed him hard one last time.
“She killed your brother,” Alba cried out. “Kill her!”
Justina looked over at Alba, then at Fabricius. “I will take my freedom now.”
Fabricius did not try to stop her. “Remember me,” he said, and watched her run away.
About the Author
Ryan Lew has been a fan of both historical and science fiction since he first saw Star Wars in his youth. In fact, Star Wars had such an impact upon him that he remains a huge fan of the saga to this very day. While Ryan’s influences include both movies and television in these genres, none have had more impact than the Starz original series Spartacus. It was that influence that started Ryan’s writing career and this, his first book. Although most people are familiar with Spartacus and Caesar, Ryan wondered what would happen if he could link those two historical characters together by a common bond, and Justina, Daughter of Spartacus, was born.
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