Seduced by the Gladiator

by Lauren Hawkeye

  I pressed my hips into his and wrapped my legs around his waist. Swallowing thickly, I wished to free the fastenings of his subligaculum, but did not wish to separate my hips from his for the time in which it would take to disrobe him.

  I forgot all about my wish when he dipped his head and closed his mouth over both cloth and flesh.

  I whimpered and bucked against him. He ground back, growling low in his throat, the sound swallowed by the soft pants of our breath.

  The loud blast of a horn from out in the training yard stopped us both where we were. It was the signal our dominus used to gather all of his gladiators in the yard, below the balcony.

  “Hurry up.” The voice of the dominus emanated through the thin wood of the door.

  Christus and I blinked at each other, stunned. Before he could say or do anything, I pushed him away, sliding down the wall until my toes touched the floor.

  What was I doing? Yes, the man offered me some protection, but to give your heart to another gladiator was foolishness. Either of us could be killed at any moment.

  I fully intended that it would not be me. A romance between us—even just an affair—could not ever end well. There were too many politics involved in the running of a ludus, too many forces to be navigated to worry about more than oneself.

  I could feel that my cheeks were nearly the same color of the fruit that I had craved the night before as I yanked the band of cloth and leather back up my torso, covering the breasts that Christus had just had his mouth on. My hands reached behind me to tie the knot, but my fingers were trembling in my haste, and I fumbled.

  “Let me.” Christus’ own cheeks redder than they’d ever been, he reached out and deftly tied the knot. At the touch of his fingers on my smooth skin, I started and jerked away.

  “Christus. I cannot. We cannot. This is madness.” From the yard, the horn sounded again, and seeing an opening, I fled for the door.

  At the end of it all, we were both slaves. Nothing could be certain in our lives except for the fact that we would do anything we were told.

  Anything at all.

  Most often, when the dominus had an announcement to make, he stood on the balcony that overlooked the ludus, while we gladiators gathered beneath it. Today he had come right into the yard, walking slowly, not wanting the dust to stain the ornate toga that he had not worn earlier.

  His face showed excitement, and perhaps I imagined it, but I thought that I saw a trace of distaste lying beneath it.

  “Gather around, men.” The dominus lifted his arms up, urging us in. Sensing Christus’ presence directly behind me, I moved to the far side of the group, where Darius stood, his dark skin gleaming in the early evening sun. He patted me on the back firmly in greeting before his eyes darted across the way to Christus.

  “What is happening?” I knew that my friend spoke not of the dominus’ announcement, but of me and Christus—he knew me far too well for me to be able to hide our involvement. I, however, had no interest whatsoever in talking about it, so I scowled and shook my head vehemently, gesturing instead to our owner.

  “We have received exciting news today, men.” The dominus scanned the group of us, and I noticed that he did not meet my eyes—this was rare, as we all knew that I was his favorite.

  Something heavy began to form in my stomach.

  “Gaius, brother of the emperor, has announced that he intends to host the biggest arena games that Rome has ever seen.” A great roar rose up from the men, and I understood and shared in their feeling.

  This was the life that we had been granted by the gods. All that we could do was make the most of it.

  “Gaius has honored our ludus by issuing an invitation to participate.” Another cheer went around, and I took the momentary distraction to sneak a look at Christus, who still stood on the other side of the group.

  His arms were folded across his chest. He did not look happy.

  “Gaius himself will select those among you who are worthy of participating.” Here the cheers gave way to boasts. Who would be chosen? Who would deserve the honor, the potential riches to be gained?

  My blood began to heat at the talk. Why was no one mentioning my name? If this announcement had been made only days earlier, my name would have been the one on everyone’s lips—Lilia the fiercest, Lilia the strong.

  I knew that it was the appearance of Christus in the ludus that had diminished my importance. He had done nothing to bring this on, but the reality remained that he was stronger and far more dominant than I, a truth that had nothing to do with the fact that he was a man and I a woman.

  My relationship with him was uncertain, and I knew that I needed to look out for myself. No matter my feelings for the man—and I had many, complex ones all—I knew then that I needed to participate in these games in order to restore my reputation.

  A hand raised by the dominus commanded us all to cease our talk. His face was more serious than I had ever seen it.

  “Be forewarned. If you are chosen, you will participate. This is your life, this is what you do. But these games are unlike any that I have ever heard of. Gaius is sparing no expense, and there are rumors of obstacles to be faced that you could not even dream of.”

  I was strong. I could do it, whatever it was.

  “Also . . . two men each from fifteen ludi will compete in one epic game. Only one will be permitted to survive.” I blinked, suddenly stunned, and from the drop in volume of the voices around me, I could tell that I was not the only one who was shocked.

  Only one would be permitted to survive? If all of the best men from each of Rome’s ludi were selected to participate, then nearly all of the legends of the arena would fall to the sword of another.

  The heat in my blood cooled rapidly, making me dizzy, and angry as well. Days earlier, even with the threat of probable death, I would have been eager to compete—would have expected to be chosen for a place in the munera—public events sponsored by the wealthy to appease the masses.

  Now feelings that I could not quite identify worried at my insides. Perhaps I did not want to die in the arena, not in a bloodbath such as this one. Yet there was no point in thinking in such a fashion, for in the end I had no say in the matter.

  Perhaps it was a happy occurrence that I was no longer seen as the strongest. But then . . .

  I turned slowly, my eyes darting through the group to where Christus stood. If he was the strongest, the best, then he would be chosen.

  He would be the one who would, in all likelihood, die.

  The thought hit me like a fist in the face.

  Christus looked no happier than I. I started to make my way toward him, finding at that moment that I did not care about much else. Dimly I was aware that the dominus had ended his speech and was answering questions from those who had them. The men were milling about, some with excitement, some with shock themselves.

  I did not care, though I knew that I should have.

  “Lilia.” Before I had moved more than two paces, the dominus was at my side. “Come.” Casting an anxious look back over my shoulder at Christus, I did as I was told, following the dominus away from the yard and down the corridor that led to the small room where the medic worked. The dominus sat at the absent medic’s desk and poured two cups full of wine from the ever-present jug, then offered one to me.

  “Gratitude.” I accepted the cup, but I did not sit. I was full of nervous energy, and the implacable stare that my owner had fixed upon me was only exacerbating it.

  “Lilia, you have already been chosen to compete in the Battle of Gaius.” The news hit me like a blow—after the reaction of the men outside, it was information that I had not been expecting.

  “So soon? Did the man not announce his games just this afternoon?” I swallowed thickly, found my mouth dry, and drank deeply from the cup that the dominus had poured for me.

  The man seemed troubled, and his emotion made me apprehensive.

  “Lilia, when we saw Gaius in the market today—I do not think
that that was an accident.” He peered into his own cup, as if hoping to find answers in its ruby depths.

  “I do not understand.” I thought back to the brief flash that I had seen of the man, hidden as he was behind the curtain that decorated his litter. The only thing about what I had assumed was a chance encounter that had stuck with me was the excitement that I had seen on the man’s face. “And if you knew of this earlier, in the market, why did you not speak plainly then?”

  I had dismissed the look on the strange man’s face as excitement over seeing a gladiator outside the walls of the arena—many patricians had the very same reaction. I had not thought more about it. But now I saw that that excitement could have a far more sinister meaning for me.

  “I was not permitted to do so, by order of Gaius himself.” The dominus seemed to consider his words before he again spoke. “I think that his excitement at seeing you today, in the flesh, has made him move rather more quickly than he had originally intended to. I believe that Gaius first became aware of you after your win in the munera that were held to celebrate the wedding of Lucius Quintus Manius and his second wife, Miriama, daughter of Baldurus. Your show of strength that day impressed many, I think, but he is the only one who spoke to me of it after.”

  I remembered that day well—I had not fought alone, but with Bavarius and one of his friends. They had tried to send me to my death at the hands of the gigantic beast of a man we had been fighting.

  I had not died. I had killed the man myself, and made my two ludus brothers appear the fools.

  “Do you recall that there was a party afterwards, to toast the newlyweds? The victors of the day, including yourself, were there to provide demonstrations. In fact, Christus was there, albeit briefly, due to injury. I do not think the two of you met.” It was not uncommon for a gladiator to be invited to attend the party of a patrician, especially one with a win freshly in his belt, though we were not considered guests. Often we merely stood in a line at the side of the room as decoration, something for the rich to admire, to ponder, to discuss. Other times we fought one on one, with wooden training swords for the safety of the patricians. Often the male gladiators were approached by women at the party who wanted the pleasure of their bodies, though the decision belonged not to them, but to their dominus.

  That particular party had remained in my mind because, for the first time, it had not been one of my brothers who was approached, but myself. Still somewhat new to the ludus, and still raw from my treatment at the hands of Bavarius, I had not understood much of the unspoken expectations.

  I had learned quickly that, as a slave, I was to follow the orders of those higher in class than myself, whether they were my dominus or not. A man called Brutus had told me to go with him, and so I went. When he had moved to lead me from the hall in which the party was being held, Darius had pulled me back. His excuse had been that the dominus would not permit me to be touched in such a way. It had been the start of my friendship with the man, for he had saved me when he did not have to.

  It had made quite a scene. Brutus had not been pleased to have what he wanted taken away. My dominus did not care for the man, and would not give me to him. I had been the uncontested center of attention for the entire night, the gladiator that the rich fought over.

  “Gaius was at that party.” I tilted my head, certain that I would have remembered the handsome man with the eyes of a snake, but I did not. “The scene with Brutus brought you to his attention.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut as I let my memory take over. Perhaps it would have been better for me to just go with Brutus that evening. Perhaps it meant that I would not have been standing where I was now.

  “Since that day, every time that I have met the man, he has spoken of you—sometimes no more than just a slip of your name, said in passing.” Frowning, the dominus swirled his wine in his cup, contemplating it for so long that I might have screamed, had my throat not been so dry.

  “For weeks now, I have suspected that he has had a man in our ludus passing along details of your life, your comings and goings.” My stomach lurched.

  I did not like the idea of being watched. The trapped sensation that I felt whenever anyone came too close to me—anyone save my friend Darius, and now Christus—rose, and I tried to swallow down the panic that accompanied it.

  “Why?” I truly did not understand. “I am a slave.”

  The dominus’ eyes narrowed a bit at my words, and I knew that he had not cared much for my description of myself. There were Romans—few of them, and far between—who had an affection for their slaves. I knew that my master had such a feeling for me. I also knew, though, that these affections were akin to one that a person might feel for an animal. We were still not quite people, no matter how well we were treated.

  The dominus might have soft feelings toward me, but it was because in a group of rough, dirty men, I was different, if only because I possessed a cunt rather than a cock, and because I brought coin to the household.

  Still, I was grateful for his warning, and told him so, though I did not see what I could possibly do about it.

  “Lilia, I do not think that you quite understand.” The dominus raked a hand through his dark hair, and I saw for the first time that it was threaded with gray. “I think that Gaius has built his entire battle around you.”

  I stared, not sure that I believed the words. “That cannot be.”

  I had never actually met the man. The closest that I had ever been to him was earlier that day, in the market.

  “I do know what game he is playing, Lilia, but you need to be careful. You have the strength, the skill to win this.” Days earlier, I would have felt pride at the words from my master. Now I felt only panic. “But the other participants will have been handpicked by Gaius, all to serve whatever purpose he has in mind for you. They will be perhaps not as skilled as you, but they will be bigger, they will be strong, and above all, they will not fight fairly.”

  The words struck precisely where the man had intended them to—in my pride.

  “I would rather die than fight without honor.” The words came automatically to my lips, but as soon as I had spoken them, I doubted their sincerity.

  Something had passed between myself and Christus, something that had linked us together. No matter how I fought it, there was a part of me that insisted that I should do whatever I could to win, simply so that I could return to his arms again.

  Never mind that anything between us could never work, not in the end. My desires cared nothing for my reason.

  “Gratitude for your caution, Dominus. I am indebted to you.” I studied the troubled man before me. Undoubtedly he would make piles of denarii from participating in these games, and yet he still seemed troubled—troubled at the thought of me ensnared in the net of the emperor’s brother.

  It spoke of his character, and told me that perhaps I was worth a hint more to him than an animal, after all. With that thought uppermost in my mind, I wanted to ease his troubles, if only a bit.

  “Do not concern yourself with my well-being, Dominus. I will return home.” I nodded with much more confidence than I felt. If the game were to be a fair one, one where the smartest and strongest triumphed, then I knew, truly knew, that I could win.

  I was not good at deception, was not good at games. Whatever Gaius had planned, I did not have any hope that I would be able to figure it out.

  The dominus managed a small smile, but he appeared wearier than I had ever seen him.

  “As your pater familias, your well-being is fully my responsibility, Lilia.” Lifting his cup to his mouth, he drained the contents in one large gulp, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “However, my power has its limits. I cannot go against the brother of the emperor. All I can do is pray to the gods to keep you safe.”

  Christus was sitting on his bedroll, his head cradled in his hands, when I entered our private chambers. The evening meal was being served, but I yet again had no appetite.

  “You have been c
hosen, have you not?” He stood, the muscles of his legs taut with tension as he strode over to me and wrapped me in his embrace.

  For the first time, I did not protest, did not struggle. There was no point in bothering with pretense now.

  “The dominus thinks that Gaius has arranged these games around me.” The words fell from lips that felt numb from both wine and shock. I blinked rapidly, thinking that perhaps one of these times my vision would clear and things would return to how they had been.

  They did not.

  “You cannot go. You must fake being ill.” Pushing away from me, Christus began to pace the small room. Anger was evident in his every movement, and for the first time I saw how truly oppressive he found his life as a slave.

  This big, strong man would never accept a life of servitude. No, he belonged out in the open, free of chains.

  A person with as pure a soul as his should never have been caged.

  “I cannot. Even the dominus cannot help the decision.” Inhaling deeply, I tangled my hands in my hair and tugged, savoring the bite of pain. “All I can do is what I always have—I can fight. I have the potential to be champion, Christus, and you know it. Maybe I can win.”

  Clearly frustrated, the man spun back around and, in an instant, had my upper arms in his hands, lifting me off of the ground.

  “You shine in the arena, Lilia, there is no one who can doubt that. But in the arena, you fight in a group, or you fight one man at a time. Here, the mere fact that you are strong may have the others deciding to eliminate you first. They won’t fight fair, and you won’t do anything but.”

  For the first moment since the games had been announced, fear became the most predominant of my emotions. It slithered, cold and sinister like a snake about to strike, down my spine, around my waist, before settling into a taut coil in my belly.

  “I . . .” I opened my mouth, to say what I was not sure. Perhaps I meant to tell Christus of my feelings, or perhaps only to speak of the sense of hopelessness that I was feeling, the feeling of entrapment.