One of the soldiers actually chuckled and Hector turned a dull brick red before regaining his composure and shooting Reena a filthy look before saying, “We must get back to the cell. You have three days before your next battle and you need some training.”
He marched in front of their escort all the way back to her cell.
**
Octavia, as it turned out was a lifesaver. Because she had the freedom to come and go, the guards set her up in the room across from Reena. At night she spread her pallet down in the hallway in front of Reena’s door and Reena moved her pallet over to the door.
The two found that they had a lot in common. Octavia was only twenty-one years old but her life had been a lot harder than Reena’s. She had been sent off to an arranged marriage when she was only fourteen. Her family had been vendors at the open air markets and her husband’s family had run a small store. It was a step up in the world for her and she knew it. But after she failed to bear him children three years in a row his family grew impatient with her and declared her unfit.
Her husband was allowed to divorce her and he did. He sent her away with nothing more than the clothing she wore and three silver coins: one for each year that she had been married to him.
A woman alone in the city was a woman at risk and Octavia had quickly run out of money and since her own family would not take her back (a divorced woman was a symbol of shame to both her own family and herself), she began to do odd jobs in the market, hoping to earn enough money to one day open a stall of her own in order to support herself.
She had barely been scraping by, sleeping in whatever shelter she could find on the streets and eking out a miserable living with her small jobs. Then she had been accused of thievery, a crime she said she had not committed.
“It’s not unusual Mistress,” Octavia said as they lay on opposite sides of the door on their pallets. “It’s easy for someone to accuse you of a crime, simply because they don’t want to pay you for the work that you did and that’s what happened. I had no way to defend myself, I didn’t have the five coins necessary to higher representation and so I was found guilty.”
Reena was horrified. “And for that you were sent to the arena?”
“No, for that I was sent to the taverns. I did not want to be there, I had had enough of men taking from me what they wished without my permission when I was married. I fought a man who had hired my company for the evening, almost killing him with a tankard of ale and that is why wound up in the arena.”
Reena asked, “How could they just sell you to the taverns and demand that you do whatever the tavern keepers say? That’s inhumane!”
“That’s life here in the city. Many women are taken to the tavern. Some come from the farms, they are Culled...”
“I know about that. My own mother was to be brought to the taverns. It’s why my father took her and ran, it’s why he became an Outlaw.”
“Oh, how romantic! She was so lucky! It must have been so wonderful to know that you are loved so much that a man would leave with you, risking his own life to keep you from a life of servitude in the taverns.”
Romantic? Reena had never thought of it in those terms. How could it have been romantic when her parents had become Outlaws? They had lived on the run and roughly, but yet… Did she herself love the woods? Did she know how much her parents loved each other even though her mother had been dead since she was small? Yes, she did.
“Yes, it was very romantic.”
“I’ve never been kissed by a man that I thought made kissing feel good.” There was a wistfulness in Octavia’s voice. “If I found a man that I wanted to kiss and kiss forever, for the rest of my life, then that is who I would kiss for the rest of my life.”
Reena gave her a speculative look. “Would you marry again?”
“Yes, of course. If there was a man that I knew would love and care for me, not treat me as if I was a dirty rug on the floor, something just to wipe his feet on. I have funny ideas they say, but I don’t think that a woman should be under a man’s thumb — I think she should be there with him in every way. I think they should be partners.”
“My mother was my father’s partner. They did everything together because they had to. He never gave her an order, and she never gave him one either. They worked together to make sure that we survived, and that we had as much as was possible under the circumstances.”
Octavia said, “it must’ve been beautiful to grow up watching them.”
Reena didn’t want to talk about herself anymore; it hurt too much. It made her miss her father and what was more, it made her miss her mother. “What are your parents like?”
“Like most parents. My mother is basically a servant in her own house. We don’t have enough money for servants… They did not have enough money for servants. My mother does not do anything unless she is ordered to do it and my father expects her to do everything. It’s no different than every other husband-and-wife living on our street. That is the way of it.”
“I would never agree to a marriage like that.”
“I did, and I know how awful it is. I would never agree to that ever again either. Do you know what they call woman like me?”
“No, what?”
Octavia laughed, “Feminists. Isn’t that the funniest word you ever heard? I have no idea what it really means, but that’s what they call me and other women like me. It’s a crime to be a feminist and they can actually put you in jail for it.”
“What about those women that you see on the streets all the time who have their own servants and give them orders?”
Octavia said, “most of them have outlived their husbands. Or their family. Women have freedom, if they are single. You can do everything except vote; you can keep your own money, you can take a lover, you can own your own business – but only if you’re single. If you’re married all of that becomes her husband’s. And you have no rights anymore, then they wonder why woman like me rebels against the idea of marriage.”
“But you just said you would get married again.”
Octavia said, “Only if I found a man willing to love me and to be my partner in this life; there’s no way I’m going to marry another man that wants me to be his servant.”
Teasingly Reena said, “I think Hector would like to marry you.”
Octavia giggled, “He’s so… manly isn’t he? Can you imagine kissing him?”
“No,” Reena said honestly. “Then again, he’s always knocking me onto my butt in the dirt so perhaps kissing him was not something that’s ever crossed my mind.”
“I could see why.”
That conversation and more like it was to follow in the days leading up to her next battle. Reena had had no idea of just how lonely she was, or how much it meant to her to have company. Octavia often left; she took some of the jewels and other things that she had scooped up off the arena floor and went out into the marketplace with them. When she returned she had fresh clothes for Reena to wear in her cell and she took her gladiator gear to a leather worker to be repaired and cleaned saying that the smell of sweat was enough to knock down the hardiest of men. “In that case perhaps better leave it as it is,” Reena had suggested to that, making them both laugh.
Octavia also brought back things that Reena had not been permitted before: small sweet treats and a hairbrush, a small slim volume of poetry that had been written by a man who was hawking copies of that verse for a few bites of food and other little items.
One of the things that Octavia brought back for her was a long veil. Reena had looked at it in confusion and looked back at Octavia. “What is this for?”
“It’s to keep you from noticing the stares of the people in the streets when you walk past them.”
Reena’s face flamed. So Octavia had noticed that. She had thought that she had hidden so well her discomfort with being stared and pointed at, but Octavia had seen it immediately.
“Let me help you pin it on,” Octavia said kindly.
Octavia beckoned fo
r a soldier, to allow her into Reena’s cell. Octavia sat Reena down and began to brush her long hair, plying the stiff bristles through the soft strands until they swung colossally from her scalp. “We must do something about your hair. You have a fight today and I think you should wear it up.”
“What you mean?”
“I am going to braid and arrange it so that it’s all up on top of your head and not in your way, if you’ll let me.”
Reena was touched by that, “I would like that very much, thank you.”
Octavia pulled her hair tightly back, styling it in tight braids before braiding it below itself and tucking it tightly against her scalp so that not a single strand showed or waved around her face.
Reena had not yet dressed for the arena, so she reached for her usual garb when Octavia said to her, “no, not today. Today is a special day and I have something for you to wear.”
“The garments she held out were solid white. They were made of the same toss-resistant leather that the outfit that River’s mother had made for her was, but there was a chain mail breastplate that fit over the top as well as under the skirt. The gauntlets were also white and silver. After Reena had all of the clothes on, Octavia opened the box and said, “I had these made for you. I saw something like them once in an old book. It cost me almost everything you earned during your last battle, but I think when the crowd gets a look at you today they will make sure that you have plenty when you leave there.”
Reena stared at the objects in Octavia’s hand. They looked almost like the shoes that she wore in the woods. They covered her entire foot instead of being sandals, or rather they would when she put them on. But they had tall leather uppers that would stretch all the way up to her thigh, and heavy dark leather soles.
“Octavia, what are they?”
Octavia replied, “They’re boots. They will help protect your legs and what is more they will make you look different from everyone else out there, every eye will be on you. And you want that today.”
“Every eye is always on me Octavia,” Reena pointed out
“Octavia knelt on the floor and began pulling the boots onto Reena’s feet, buckling them with the silver buckles before saying, “today they are going to see you as what you are. They’re not going to see you as a gladiator today, they’re going to see you as a young and innocent girl. They’re going to see you as a sacrifice.”
Reena’s throat went dry and she reached out one hand, setting her trembling fingers on Octavia’s hair. “Do you think I’m going to die today Octavia?”
Octavia looked up at her, her blue eyes meeting Reena’s eyes squarely. “No. But you need the crowd to know what it would be like to have to mourn you if you did.”
“What makes you think that?”
Octavia stood and began to fuss with the chain mail over Reena’s white leather top. In a monotone she whispered, “as soon as I came here I was asked to help you in any way possible. You have many friends, don’t ever think you’re alone.”
She put a finger to Reena’s lips to tell her to say nothing else and Reena knew why. The guards were coming to take her away, to take her to the arena and if they overheard anything that the two of them were saying, Octavia would be subject to death and she would be alone again.
Octavia pinned the veil to her braids in such a way that part of it trailed down her back, and the other part of it fell over her face, masking her from casual view. When the guards stopped in front of her door and unlocked it, Reena heard one of them gasp, “She should be a bride, not a gladiator. Does anyone else not see this?”
Octavia gave her a smile and a broad wink. Reena wanting to smile and wink back, but she knew the guards would see that movement so she stayed still and silent. However, inside she was doing a dance. Octavia was a genius, and so was whoever had ordered her to do this.
**
As soon as Reena made her appearance on the street that day she sensed the difference in the way that people were looking at her. They still stared at her but there was a difference in those gazes.
She heard the whispers, “it’s true, she is favored by Isis herself,” and so on. She wanted to ask Octavia what those whispers meant, but she was afraid to. She had a feeling that whatever was going on had to do with the clothes that she wore and the other part of it had something to do with the city itself.
When she was ushered into her small holding room at the arena, she turned to Octavia and whispered, “Tell me what is going on.”
“You will know soon enough.”
“Don’t give me that, give me the truth.”
Hector came in, his face carefully impassive. “You look beautiful today Reena. Of course, not as beautiful as you Octavia. He even managed to give Octavia a little leer with a wiggle of his eyebrows that was decidedly gross, but for some reason Octavia seemed to like it because she giggled and waved her hands at him saying, “Oh go on you old fool.”
Hector said, “you will not be the last to battle today Reena. He will be the first. Today is the day of worship, and nobody can believe that the Governor ordered battles today. It is against all rules of the arena. And many of us are sure that his arrogance is going to anger the gods.”
“Gee thanks! So now not only do I have to go fight for my life, but I have to worry about angering a god too?”
Reena was actually angry. That anger was good though; it was cleansing in a way. She had spent far too much time with her emotions submerged lately. Before anybody could say anything to her that would make her feel any better she was summoned to the arena.
Octavia walked beside her, and Hector walked in front of them. It was usual for him to do that but she was not used to Octavia’s presence just yet. As soon as the gate opened and they walked out into the arena, the crowd went crazy but then all of a sudden their cheers and screams and shouts died. Reena was beginning to get used to their stillness and their uproars, but she had a feeling that this was her chance; she just didn’t know what it was a chance for.
From the stands came a cry, “It is as if Isis herself has come to the games!”
It was Nemia! What was she doing? It didn’t take long to figure it out. Hector had said that this was a holy day and that many were angry because the arena was open. Reena had already discovered that many of the people who came to the games came simply because it was the Law, not for personal enjoyment. So they had been stripped of their holy day and forced to come here to watch somebody die.
It all became very clear to her very quickly. Nemia and Hector had to be working together; Praxis had probably introduced the two of them. Now that Reena had Octavia to pass messages through and to aid them they had come up, with a plan to dress her like a goddess, and to bring home to the people in the stands that this was a holy day.
It was clever; it was beyond clever it was sheer genius at work. The people in the stands were all horrified by the sight of her, but not in a bad way. The screams and cries began, “Victor, victor!”
She had not even battled yet, or seen her opponent and if the people in the stands had anything to say about it, she wouldn’t. The favors raining down into the sand were twice what they had been during her last battle and she was astounded by that and the cries from the crowd.
They were demanding that she be let out of this battle! Reena looked up at the Governor’s box. He was sitting in his throne and his face wore a mask of hatred so venomous that it sent a shiver down her spine. What could he have against her? Why did he hate her so? She was just a girl, nothing more and yet he wanted her dead.
Not only that he wanted her dead so badly that he was willing to go through all of this — even going so far as to risk the wrath of the gods!
The gate swung open to reveal the person that she would save today: a young boy that she recognized as the son of an Outlaw. She did not know him or his father well, but she had spotted him in the cart and she knew that her father had hidden him behind his own back during that first, fateful battle.
He was young but h
e was proud and he looked at her before nodding his head solemnly. She nodded back and came to stand next to her. “May the gods be with us today,” he said in a voice that cracked and crackled, but not from fear, from adolescence.
“I think they may be.”
The gates swung open again and her heart lurched in her chest. The man walking toward her was Kale! Any hope that she had had that the gods might favor her today died immediately. She knew how good he was; he had helped train her. He was impossible to beat and she knew it.
Everything was lost, there was no way she could fight him and win. Hector had to have known that she was coming to battle Kale today. That must be why they had put her in this outfit and tried to convince the crowd to call off the battle.
The Governor stood and raised his hands calling for silence. Immediate silence usually fell at his command but today it took long minutes for the crowd to subside. Even when they did begin to quieten they still didn’t fall completely silent. Grumbles and shouts echoed throughout the arena stands.
“Today we bring you not only an up and coming gladiator, but her mentor and teacher.” The Governor’s words had barely ended before the crowd was on its feet again calling for the battle to be called off, calling for her to be named Victor.
Kale walked towards her and Reena put an arm out to move the young boy behind her, “you must get out of the way. You must flee or get badly hurt.”
“Your father protected me and now it is up to me to help protect you. I’m going nowhere.”
His courage made tears form in her eyes and a lump form in her throat. He was a child, maybe ten or eleven years old. He did not belong here, this was all wrong!
Kale stopped several feet from her and then, unbelievably, he knelt on the ground. And he was not kneeling with his face pointed toward the Governor, he was kneeling in her direction! The cries of the crowd were so loud that Reena couldn’t even hear a single thought in her own head. What was he doing? What was going on here?
Call to Arms (The Girl In The Arena Book 1) Page 12
