by L. A. Witt
After a while, I break the silence. “I’m curious about something.”
Drusus raises his eyebrows. “Hmm?”
“When I first arrived at the ludus, you confronted all the auctorati about a message someone tried to send out.”
A strange, mischievous grin slowly comes to life on his tired face. “Yes?”
“What did it say?”
Drusus laughs softly, watching himself stroke his sleeping son’s hair. “It didn’t say anything.”
“What?” I cock my head. “What do you mean?”
He looks at me through his dark lashes. “I was bluffing.”
My mouth falls open.
Drusus laughs again. He shifts a little, wincing as he tries to get comfortable without disturbing Kaeso. Once he’s situated, he says, “I knew there was treachery within the familia. I didn’t know who, didn’t know exactly what, but any lanista who wants to live another day knows damn well when his men aren’t as loyal as they say they are.”
“How did you know it was an auctoratus?”
“I didn’t.” He lets his head rest against the cave wall. “Not for certain, anyway. Something about them didn’t feel right, though. Nearly half a dozen auctorati joining my ludus within months of each other? Some of them even shiftier than the other men in the familia?” He slowly shakes his head. “Something wasn’t right.”
“So you bluffed,” I say. “With a false message.”
He nods. “Make them believe not only am I onto them, but there’s another among them. Make them skittish and hope they make a mistake.”
I laugh. “Well, it did worry at least one of them.”
Drusus arches his eyebrow, an echo of the lanista who’d intimidated me from the start. “And you were one of the men who’d joined under suspicious pretenses, yes?”
“I was.”
“Never cross a lanista, Saevius,” he says with a half-grin.
I laugh again. “I’ll remember that.”
Beside Drusus, Kaeso stirs. A moment later, he raises his head, blinking sleepily. “Where are we?”
“The gods only know,” Drusus says. “But we should get moving.” He winces as he tries to get up. I stand, extend my hand, and he takes it, letting me ease him onto his feet.
“Where are we going?” Kaeso asks, rubbing his eyes with his fists.
Drusus tousles the boy’s hair. “We’ll know when we get there.”
“Wherever we go,” I say, “we’re no one. I’m not a citizen, and you’ll be arrested the moment anyone figures out who you are. Could be difficult to make a living, and I’d just as soon not set foot in another ludus.”
“I’ve had my fill of ludi, believe me,” he mutters. “But I’ve falsified a life before. I can do it again.” Then he smiles. “I hear Rome is lovely.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’d rather live in Pompeii’s sewer. What about Alexandria?”
“Unless you know where we can get both horses and a ship that will take us that far,” Drusus says, “Kaeso will be an old man before we get there.”
“What about Carthage?” Kaeso says.
“Isn’t that almost as far from here as Alexandria?” I ask.
“I think so.” Drusus looks at me, shrugging with one shoulder. “But the farther from here we go, the better. Alexandria, Carthage . . .” Another shrug. “Let’s just leave this damned city behind.”
“Agreed.”
Though we still don’t know where we’re going, where we’ll one day find ourselves, we get on the road and start toward the south.
As the road crests a hill, I pause and look back, stealing just a moment to take in the sight of Pompeii awakening in the shadow of Vesuvius. By now, the men in the familia know they’re free. If they’re wise, they’ve taken the money and documents Drusus left behind, and they’ve fled the ludus, if not Pompeii.
Word should already be getting around the city. The graffiti and the declaration Arabo nailed to the Forum door leave little to the imagination about Calvus’s actions against his wife and his grandson. Even if it’s not enough to punish him, it will leave a foul taste in the mouths of the populace, which is as lethal as hemlock to a politician.
“Saevius?”
I turn around.
Drusus cocks his head. “Something wrong?”
I glance at Pompeii one last time, then shake my head and continue after Drusus and the boy. “Nothing. Just a pity we couldn’t stay in Pompeii.” I put my hand on Drusus’s back as we walk. “All things considered, I was beginning to like the city.”
This time it’s Drusus who looks back. “If that’s the last time I lay eyes on that place,” he says, wrapping his arm around my waist, carefully avoiding my tender wounds as he faces forward again, “I’ll die a happy man.”
“Come on!” Kaeso calls from up ahead. “You’re too slow!” He trots down the dusty road.
Drusus blows out a breath and shakes his head. “We’re going to need horses just so we can keep up with him on foot.”
I chuckle. “You’re probably right.” We both laugh and continue following the cloud of dust behind Kaeso.
I steal one last glance behind. Pompeii is gone now, and only the peak of Vesuvius remains in sight.
Wherever we find ourselves, in whatever city the three of us eventually make our home, I have no doubt that I for one will die a happy man. A happy free man.
And the gods can have Pompeii.
Alexandria: A city in Egypt.
Auctoratus: A citizen or freedman who volunteers to be a gladiator (and slave) for a specific period, usually about two years. Typically done to pay off debts.
Bacchus: Roman equivalent of Dionysus, god of wine.
Familia gladiatori: Troupe of gladiators belonging to a specific ludus, owned by a lanista.
Fates: Three females from Roman mythology who control the destiny of mortals and gods alike.
Flagellum: Weapon similar to a modern-day cat-o’-nine-tails, used to punish slaves.
Fortune: Roman goddess of luck.
Gaul: Region of modern-day Western Europe conquered by the Romans. Includes modern-day France and Belgium.
Herculaneum: Small, wealthy town near Pompeii that was also destroyed by the eruption of Vesuvius in AD 79.
Lanista: Owner of the ludus and its gladiators.
Ludi: Public games held as part of specific religious festivals such as the Ludi Appollinares (honoring Apollo), the Ludi Augustales (honoring Augustus), the Ludi Florales (honoring Flora, goddess of plant life), and the Ludi Romani (honoring Jupiter). (Also: when lowercase, the plural form of ludus. See below.)
Ludus: (plural: ludi) A gladiator school.
Manica: Armguard made out of linen.
Medicus: Physician who treats wounded and ill gladiators.
Missum/Missus: Mercy granted by the munerator to a defeated fighter.
Munerator: Organizer of gladiatorial games. Also the one who gives or denies missus.
Myrmillo: Type of gladiator who fights with similar equipment as a Roman legionary. Typically paired with a thraex.
Noxii: Condemned criminals sentenced to die in the arena.
Parthian: Someone from the Parthian Empire, later called Persia.
Plebeians: Non-aristocratic citizens of Rome.
Pol: Expression of exasperation.
Pompeii: Roman city in the Campania region of Italy. Destroyed by the eruption of Vesuvius in AD 79.
Retiarius: Type of gladiator who fights with a net and trident.
Rudis: Symbolic wooden sword given to gladiators who have earned their freedom.
Sestertii: Roman coin.
Tartarus: Underworld.
Thraex: Type of gladiator who fights with a small, rectangular shield and a short, curved sword. Usually paired against a myrmillo.
Velarium: Awning pulled over the stands of the amphitheatre to shade spectators during the games.
Venus: Goddess of love; Roman equivalent to the Greek goddess Aphrodite.
Vesuvius:
The volcano to the northwest of Pompeii that wiped out the city in AD 79.
Vigiles: Police and firefighters.
The Closer You Get
Conduct Unbecoming
Where There's Smoke
A Chip in His Shoulder
O Come All Ye Kinky
Something New Under the Sun (Coming Soon)
For a full list, please visit http://loriawitt.com/Books_by_L.html.
L.A. Witt is an abnormal M/M romance writer who, after three years in Okinawa, Japan, relocated to Omaha, Nebraska, in late 2011. She lives there with her husband, two cats, and a buck-toothed turtle named Sheldon. In between writing smutty books full of smutty smuttiness, she continues her tireless pursuit of her arch nemesis, erotica author Lauren Gallagher.
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