by Gordon, Eva
Cassia met his eyes as if sensing his despair. “The memory of your home will be added torture. Must you fight?”
Ulric wished he had a better answer. Regardless, after tonight he might never see her again. He braved a smile. “It will bring my master, Macula, great honor.”
“There’s no honor providing entertainment for Romans only thirsty for bloodshed.” Her eyes probed his inner soul. “You can become a wolf, why not escape and flee?”
“Ah, dear woman, that has been my wish. While my master Caninus Macula keeps my mother enslaved, I cannot. And there is more. If I escape he would slaughter the Chattian men from my tribe he keeps as slaves.”
“I’m so sorry. I understand. I wish I could help.”
Cassia’s words of sympathy soothed his hardened soul. “Your company gives me great joy.” But how could this beautiful, mysterious woman who was not afraid of him stir his heart? Except for the pleasures of the flesh, human women never stirred his heart.
“Thank you.” She blushed again, a deeper shade of red, and sipped her wine.
Milo brought him a slab of goat meat and he hoped Cassia did not take offense. He also set down a tray with a small loaf, cheese, and olive oil.
Being with the beauty gave him an appetite not only for food, but to know her, what she liked, disliked, what made her happy, sad, and more. “Have you lived here all your life?”
She swallowed and wiped crumbs from her gorgeous full lips. “No, my master and I moved here only a few months ago. We lived north in Aventicum.”
He frowned, disappointed. Beautiful Cassia, a slave. No doubt, she kept her master satisfied at night. He wanted to rip her master apart. He eased his furrowed brow and twisted a smile. “I see. I have longed to visit the northern mountains.”
“A man who becomes a wolf would love the vast range of forest and the high mountains of Aventicum.”
Like him, she must long to return to a place far from the chaos of Rome’s bustling surroundings. How strange to hear a woman speak of what a wolf would enjoy. Most unusual. He scratched her goat’s head. “I do not wish to anger your master. We must leave soon before he grows suspicious.” If her master became jealous and punished her, it would mean her master’s death, he decided.
She laughed. “Gaius is more like my father than master. He is a physician for…” She bit her soft ruby red lips. “And I am his apprentice physician.” She cast her eyes down. “My master will be attending tonight’s spectacle in case his services are needed, but I will not.”
Except for lycan females, he did not know human women practiced medicine. “You? A healer?” Could he be wrong about her? Was she like him, more than she appeared to be?
“Yes.” She stood and took her goat’s lead. “Stay and enjoy. I must return; thank you for the meal.”
He blocked her exit and picked up Egidius. “I will see to it you get to your domicile safely.”
Cassia glanced at him and opened her mouth as if to protest, but instead sighed and stepped out.
Outside, the bright blue sky and warmth enflamed him with desire for this mysterious beautiful woman.
They reached her elegant home with a fine garden. She smiled as she rubbed her goat’s chin. “Thank you for carrying Egidius home. You are most kind.”
Her eyes met his. Beautiful green eyes that spoke of recognition. Longing. The temptation to capture her lips overwhelmed him. Yet a tryst with a human woman would end in heartache. She would be different from the prostitutes satisfying his needs. She made him smile just with her presence. He snapped from his stupor. “May I suggest next time you go to the Subura, you find an escort.”
Cassia suppressed a laugh. “You sound like my master Gaius.” Her eyes twinkled like jewels. She opened her long palla, long enough for him to see the glint of a small blade. “I assure you, I can take care of myself.”
He bowed. “So it seems.” Her confidence reminded him of an alpha female.
She opened the small gate and pulled the kid in. As he turned to go, she called out, “Ulric. Please don’t die.”
“If it pleases you, my lady, I promise to live.” He sighed and walked off toward the Subura. His desire to visit a prostitute before the game after a hearty meal vanished. The pleasure of walking Cassia to her home was all he needed to sustain him. Was this how it felt to be free? A stroll without a care in the world? This walk would always remain a treasured memory.
***
The parade ended. Time for the wolf spectacle to begin. Above him, the boom of the crowd shouting his name “Ulricus!” shook the stadium. During his first gladiator games, he had remained human, but when his two den betas were killed by men on chariots, he shifted and tore them all asunder. His secret was out, and Emperor Domitian became his biggest fan. The Lupercal had been outraged, but Macula promised to explain to Domitian that his Germanian gladiator was the only existing wolfen. A beast under the full moon’s curse but under Macula’s control so as not to worry the public.
Within the hypogeum, the vast underground network of tunnels and rooms beneath the coliseum, he paced in his cell. Ulric did not live with the other human gladiators, but rather with Macula’s omegas. He acted like a free gladiator since he came and went as he pleased. If only they knew. He was nothing but a slave to Macula’s whims. The love for his mother and enslaved pack members kept him shackled to the fiend.
The caged wild wolves captured for tonight’s games watched his every move. He’d befriended them several days ago. Poor confused creatures. Ulric demanded Macula return the wolves to their northern forest territory. His master agreed to release the wolves as long as Ulric won the game. Earlier during the procession, he had caught a glimpse of the staged forest in the coliseum complete with real northern trees, a waterfall, brush, boulders, and even a huge constructed cave. The Wolf Hunt spectacle had taken months to prepare and the coliseum had been closed for weeks. By the time he returned from his meal of fresh venison, the stadium was filled with an audience hungry for blood.
He threw back his head and howled. The pull of the moon made him more aggressive than usual. What if he shifted and killed Macula who sat next to the emperor? He’d savor the taste of Macula’s blood in his mouth. He focused to suppress his desire to rip out his throat. Upon Macula’s death at his hands, his mother’s life would be forfeit. Not by Macula’s hand of course. Unless a wolf maiden betrayed their kind to human society, the Lupercal forbade lycans to kill a wolf maiden. Such a murder damned a lycan to an afterlife as a prey animal. Macula would have the Romans carry out the deed. The Lupercal aimed to stop Macula’s human tendencies, but not soon enough. For now, Ulric would bring the audience what they wanted, blood and guts.
Varus, the dwarf who prepared gladiators for their entrance, cautiously walked in. “Ulricus, it is time.”
Ulric stood, wearing only his loincloth. He grinned down with his fangs extended at the dwarf from Gaul, his closest companion during his rise to champion gladiator. Varus told him tales of the beauty of Gaul that reminded Ulric of his own homeland. The little man had an uncanny ability to know secret details about the games. “So, what say you, about the men who will hunt me?”
The lions’ roars and the din of the crowd above them made hearing hard. Varus gestured for him to bow down. “Lurco and fourteen gladiators are dressed like hunters with furs and loin cloths. They carry spears, javelins, nets, and shields.”
He straightened. “Fifteen? I was told ten.” He gritted his teeth. “Yet I’m not even allowed my gladius.” Lurco was a worthy opponent. The man had killed hundreds of fierce wild animals. He had even killed a lion with his bare hands. Domitian’s Bestiari champion.
Varus shrugged. “Worse, the dog handler will hand Lurco five Molossus dogs.”
The big black mastiff dogs were skilled at killing lions and bears. His natural sized wolves would not stand a chance. At least it’s what Domitian believed. Ulric shook his fingers and wolf claws appeared. “I’m ready. Release them.”
Varus ey
ed the cage with ten snarling wolves. “Now?”
Fur blanketed Ulric’s arms. He nodded. “They will obey me. You will be in no danger from them.”
The dwarf unlocked the cage and hid behind Ulric. The wolves sauntered out and stood, their heads lowered in submission to Ulric. He turned to Varus. “We will follow.”
Up the ramp at the trap door, they waited to enter the center of the arena. From above him, Emperor Domitian had quieted the audience and the orator spoke, “Good Romans, listen to my words! Our Dominus et Deus, Germanicus conqueror of the Chattians, Emperor Domitian, keeper of morality and the letter of the law has awarded you with a special Venatio Wolf Hunt. In a moment from the depths of darkness, Ulricus, a Chattian barbarian, cruel and cannibalistic lord of the wolves, will enter. Listen to my words! Beware! Ulricus is a Verspilles, a wolf man. At his choosing he may leap from the arena, rape a young virgin or devour an unsuspecting spectator.”
Varus shook his head in disgust. “The only danger for virgins is Domitian.”
Ulric nodded in agreement. Varus and many Romans had been shocked on hearing how Domitian had yet another Vestal Virgin buried alive for breaking her chastity vows. Years ago, he had three buried amidst protests. A Roman could not spill the blood of a Vestal Virgin so the only allowable death was live burial outside the Servian Wall. Their execution became part of Emperor’s Domitian’s campaign to instill fear for the consequences of immoral behavior.
Yet few had complained when the cruel emperor had sent many Jews and Christians he despised into the arenas to die from animal attack or in more cruel and unusual ways. Ulric warned his mother not to air her complaints about the death of innocents. If Macula so deemed it, she too would be put to death.
Varus readied to open the trapdoor as the arena orator told the nonsense story of the hunt.
The orator continued addressing the throng, “Listen to my words, good citizens of Rome. Our brave men out to hunt wolves in the deep forest of Germania are unaware of the danger of the man-eating wolf man, Ulricus, wolf god.”
Ulric’s chest rose with each breath, waiting for release into the arena.
The door banged open and Ulric walked up. He gaped. The din of the crowd cheering and yelling Ulricus, Ulricus, did not matter. Before him stood a forest of tall pine trees illuminated by torches and the bright full moon’s light. It was the sacred grove of Tanfana, his tribe’s goddess. A waterfall above a canalled river sprayed his face with mist. To his right a large cavern faced wooden huts with deerskin doors, like the ones his tribe had lived in. Macula’s description of his home as accurate as a painting. It captured the time when Ulric was young.
Home. Where thin arrows laced with wolfsbane had felled powerful wolfen. He was no longer a gladiator, but a boy of ten, back in the past.
His father, the strongest wolfen alpha, was struck by the lethal arrow on his thigh. He pummeled the ground and howled in agony. Ulric dashed toward him. “Father!”
His mother rode toward him. “Ulric, no!” She dismounted and handed Ulric the reigns and her sword. “Run!”
Tears streamed down his face. “I need to see Father.”
“No, he wants you to live!” He obeyed and kicked the horse into a gallop. His mother screamed and Ulric spun his horse around as a powerful alpha yanked her from his dying father. She stabbed the alpha in the throat with her dagger. He growled and struck her. Ulric wielded his sword, yelled a battle cry and at breakneck speed beheaded the alpha. He dismounted and ran to his father.
His father convulsed in his arms. Kneeling beside him, his mother wept. A net landed on Ulric and dragged him away. He struggled and tore through it as he fought to reach his dying father. He had killed two men, including Macula’s brother before the flat side of a heavy blade knocked him out.
His voice broke. “Father!” Ulric fell on his knees and roared a lamenting cry. The wolves joined him in an anguished howl. The crowd fell silent. They had not expected the undefeated, stoic gladiator to mourn. They did not know he re-lived the loss of his entire family. Not on this night, but on one long ago. He wept openly, shamelessly.
A woman’s soft voice cut through his grief, “Ulric.” Was it Cassia? He calmed and took a breath. His sadness faded until he felt only one emotion, rage.
A spectator yelled, “Get up and act like a man!” Others threw food.
A deep growl escaped his throat. He stood and faced the thousands. He narrowed his eyes and shot a look at two men raising their arms with rotting refuse. They sat down and cowered. Ulric flashed his fangs in a grin. He lifted his clawed hands and yelled in his guttural Chatti language. “I will not act like a man, I am wolfen! I loathe you all! You are no better than sheep!” Disgusted, he spat. The bewildered masses only understood his angry tone and his countenance that spewed hatred at them. He directed his glare at the tall emperor and the man behind him, Caninus Macula. His wife, Floretta, placed a hand on her heart as if Ulric belonged to her.
Ulric, in his human form, leapt onto a tall boulder and howled with his arms extended, reaching toward the blood red moon. He shook his fist at the orator standing on the safety of his platform. “Begin the Venatio!”
The orator, dressed like the god Mercury, froze in terror. The crowd booed and he finally spoke, “Ulricus is ready—”
Ulric leapt onto his platform with the speed and strength only a lycan could muster and snatched the orator. He lifted him above his head, ready to fling his struggling and screeching captive to his death.
The crowd silenced with a communal gasp. Macula came forth. “Ulricus, put him down!”
He glowered at his master. “I will once he pronounces my name correctly.” He raised him even higher and roared. “I am Ulric!”
The hapless orator pleaded, “Ulric.”
The spectators broke out with, “Ulric, Ulric, Ulric!” Greedy for blood, a few demanded he throw the orator down to his death.
Ulric smiled and set the orator down. He leapt back to join his wolves and howled.
The arena shook as the crowd stomped their feet and cheered.
Ulric ambled along with his arms up. One woman from a fine family shouted, “Take me, I’m a virgin!” Other women joined her plea, even if not true.
He winked at her and continued his march around the arena as if already the victor. His popularity amongst the women was well known. How could they resist his wild wolfish nature and his large muscular frame and towering height? The prostitutes claimed him the handsomest of all the gladiators. Why not believe them? Women sighed as he walked by. He only wished the mysterious woman Cassia had showered him with such attention. She had called the spectacle a mockery, and he agreed.
“Kill them as a wolf!” said a man seated in the plebian section.
They would get their show and more. Though weaponless, today he would kill many, not as a man but as a wolfen. The orator introduced the huntsmen, and they entered single file from behind a door level with the coliseum floor. The giant Lurco and his men equipped with spears, javelins, and nets walked in to the cheers and jeers from the spectators. They wore animal skins and loincloths. Lurco wore a lion’s head like a helmet. He glowered at Ulric who stood in front of the pack of wolves that emitted low growls at the hunters.
Ulric signaled and the wolves dispersed amongst the trees. Their gray bodies scurried into the thicket.
From another trapdoor, the dog handler came up holding five short-eared black mastiffs the size of lions, tethered by a broad chain around their thick necks. He waved a piece of wolf fur before them. They snapped and growled, catching wolf scent. He handed the chain leash to Lurco and left. Foaming at the mouth and pulling on their chains, the massive dogs barked, anxious to slaughter the much smaller wolves.
Ulric scoffed. “You dare send weak dogs to bite me!” He roared and waved at the fierce dogs. He dropped to all fours in his human form and howled.
The fierce dogs lunged at him, twisting their necks to break lose. Lurco glanced at Emperor Domitian who gave the h
unter a nod. He released the hounds and they dashed forward. Ulric ran atop the boulders and into the deep cave. Barking and snarling, they chased him into the dark cavern while the hunters laughed. Not even a wolf man could survive five lion and bull fighting dogs.
The spectators silenced as the barking dogs unexpectedly grew quiet. Not one growl, bark, or even whimper.
In the shadows, Ulric smiled.
Lurco shouted for the dogs to return, “Come!” They did not. He signaled three gladiators to approach the cave. They stepped forward, shield and spears up on the ready. The crowd held their breath.
On reaching the entrance, the dogs sprang at the bewildered gladiators. Black demonic bodies from the depths of Hades. The gladiators’ blood curdling shrieks echoed throughout the arena as the dogs ripped them asunder. Entrails and ripped arms lay sprawled. The spectators cheered. In the chaos, the wolves leapt from above them and joined the dogs in the melee. Their vicious fangs slashed the throats of two gladiators, while pack members bit into their arms that held the hunter’s weapons. Lurco commanded the remaining gladiators to form a tight circle with shield and spears out. As a team, they killed two wolves. Lurco shouted and they slowly withdrew to strategize their next attack maneuver.
The dogs returned to their new leader Ulric. He patted one mastiff’s head. The dog wagged his tail and looked up at his new beloved master.
The bloodthirsty spectators leaned over the rail, transfixed on the hunt with such a surprise twist of hounds siding with wolves.
The dog handler, dashed out and blew a whistle commanding the treacherous dogs to return. The dogs stood and snarled, long drool escaping their massive jaws. The handler backed away.
The spectators shouted, “Kill him!”
