by J. P. Bowie
Table of Contents
SLAVES TO LOVE—ONE
blurb
copyright
dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
About the Author
MLR Press Authors
GLBT Resources
SLAVES TO LOVE—ONE
LUCIUS & CALLISTUS
A tale of Ancient Rome
J.P. BOWIE
mlrpress
www.mlrpress.com
Raised in the city of Capua, renowned for its gladiator training grounds---Lucius, a young patrician, is unprepared for the obsessive desire that almost overwhelms him when he first sees Callistus, a captive Gaul condemned to a life, and probable death, in the arena. Unsuccessful in his attempt to buy Callistus and save him from a premature death, Lucius instead follows his career, attending all of his bouts in the arena, including one with Spartacus, the rebel slave. Spartacus incites Callistus and his fellow gladiators to rebel and form an unbeatable army, almost bringing the Roman legions to their knees.
Although torn between his love for Callistus and loyalty to his friends and family, Lucius determines that before one, or both of them might die, he must find Callistus, confess his feelings, and spend at least one night in the arms of the man he loves.
This is the prequel to Warrior Prince.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2011 by J.P. Bowie
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Published by
MLR Press, LLC
3052 Gaines Waterport Rd.
Albion, NY 14411
Visit ManLoveRomance Press, LLC on the Internet:
www.mlrpress.com
Cover Art by Deana Jamroz
Additional Cover Art by Kelly Shorten
Editing by Kris Jacen
ISBN# 978-1-60820-416-8
Issued 2011
This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.
My thanks to Laura Baumbach, the owner and publisher of MLR Press, to Kris Jacen for her endless patience and skillful editing and to Phil, my partner of 17 years - love always.
CHAPTER ONE
Capua, Italy. 73BC
LUCIUS
Quintus Tullius, my father, died one month before the slave rebellion led by Spartacus, the gladiator. We, his family, were still in mourning, the household gods still draped in black, my mother and sisters still paying a daily visit to my father’s tomb. And I? I did not mourn, for in my eyes my father had been a cold and distant figure, uncaring of his children, indifferent to his wife.
I did not miss him for one moment, my thoughts by that time consumed by another. A man I had met but once. Not met really, observed rather. For when I first saw him, he was caged. A prisoner of Rome, a slave on his way to gladiator school, a Gaul, the sworn enemy of the Roman Republic. All of that meant nothing to me as I stared at him through the bars confining him.
He was tall, wide of shoulder, slender of waist and hip. His hair, the color of ripe corn, hung about his shoulders in thick waves. His legs, I could not see, being encased in trews of a rough material, but I imagined them strong and muscular like his arms, now folded across his chest in a display of seeming indifference. He stared back at me, with eyes as blue as the azure sky. I felt my breath catch in my chest as I acknowledged the overwhelming power of his presence. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. My mesmerized gaze amused him, I realized, turning away quickly so he could not see my embarrassment.
My friend Turio, with whom I had come to the slave market, chuckled quietly at my side. “That’s a dangerous one, I bet,” he said, moving closer to read the slave’s name inscribed on a board fastened to the bars of the cage. “Callistus, it says,” he informed me as I turned back to look at the man again. “From Gaul—captured in battle.”
I had a sudden vision of him holding firm against the press of soldiers around him, battle axe swinging with deadly precision, his shield warding off the blows of the short swords, his naked body glistening with sweat, his expression one of determined defiance.
“Lucius!” Turio punched my arm. “For Juno’s sake, stop staring at him like that. He’ll think you want to take him on, and you’re no match for that barbarian.”
“I was not thinking of fighting him, Turio.”
“Oh, that...” Turio’s mouth turned down in disapproval. Turio does not like men as I do, and although we have been friends since childhood, he has never learned to understand my affinity for virile masculinity. “Well, you can forget about that too. He’s for the ludo—and you know what that means. He’ll be dead in a matter of weeks.”
Capua, the place of my birth, was famous for its ludii where men were trained to become gladiators, fighting for the pleasure of the populace. I, like most Capuans, visited the arena regularly to see these well-trained men risk their lives in the hope of attaining some glory and popularity, if only for a brief time. With very few exceptions, even the most successful gladiator’s life was a short one.
“Perhaps,” I murmured, my eyes once again studying the Gaul’s handsome figure. “He has the look of a fighter.”
“He’s here, is he not?” Turio snorted. “He was beaten in battle.”
I moved a little closer to the cage. “But against what odds? How many men did they need to take him down?”
The Gaul unfolded his arms, and stepped forward. His hands gripped the bars of his prison, and I felt my heart tremble as his eyes bored into mine. By Jupiter, but he is beautiful. I wondered what his thoughts were as he stared so hard at me. What did he see? I felt as though he was looking beyond my dark eyes, and into the deepest recesses of my mind where I kept hidden from all others, my very secret longings.
“Come on, Lucius.” Turio’s patience was at an end. “Those doe-eyed looks will get you nowhere with that one. Let’s go. We’ll be late for supper at Dido’s.”
Reluctantly, I nodded and began to follow Turio as he strode away through the slave market. I could not resist my urge to turn for one last look at the Gaul, and I was slightly taken aback to see that he was still staring after me.
All through supper, and for the rest of the evening I could not quite erase the vision of the Gaul from my mind. Even Dido’s fast-paced jests failed to bring me completely into the lively conversations and banter that pervaded the dining room at her home.
Dido was Turio’s betrothed, older than he, not classically beautiful, but an unusual woman in as much as she had been married previously, had thrown her errant husband out, and had petitioned the courts for an annulment to their marriage. Such an action by a woman was unheard of, and at first, no one would entertain even listening to her petition. Undeterred, she took her cause to the streets, rallying support from the people, until a judge finally consented to listen. Amazingly, he granted her request. Once a free woman, she wasted no time in hooking Turio to her side. They made a handsome couple, and seemed very much in love, tho
ugh I had heard it whispered that Turio was only in it for the money. Whether he was or was not, I did not know. I doubted it, for he was my friend—but we did not talk of such things.
Dido, her face flushed from the wine, turned her twinkling eyes on me and gave my thigh a playful squeeze. “Turio tells me that you have become enamored of a gladiator-slave, Lucius. Is this true? Surely you know he would rather cut off your dick than suck it.”
“Dido.” I felt my face grow hot with embarrassment, and I cast a deadly look in Turio’s direction. “Turio’s tongue is the flesh that should be cut off. I have no illusions as to a gladiator’s intentions should I ever be alone with one. The Gaul caught my eye it is true. He is remarkable, but as I said—”
“We are jesting, my dear!” Dido interrupted me with a light laugh at my discomfort. “With your looks, you have no need to sink to such depths. Gladiators are animals, good only for fighting, and for our entertainment in the arena.”
Later, as I took the short walk to my home, I thought of her words, but somehow, the Gaul did not appear as an animal to me. Rather, there had been something noble in his bearing—majestic even.
“Juno,” I muttered to myself, pushing open the courtyard gates outside my home. “Now I am becoming overly fanciful.” Still, all night his face haunted me, giving me only a few hours restless sleep.
× × × × ×
On awakening the following morning, immediately my mind was seized by thoughts of Callistus, the Gaul. My mother was not in the best of moods, she too having been kept up all night due to my father’s sickness. I excused myself as quickly as I could, and headed back to the slave market—this time alone.
My head throbbed from my mother’s complaining, and the smell of sickness in the house. I know I should have stayed to help, but the desire to see the tall barbarian again was too strong to resist. Perhaps, if the price was not too steep, I could save him from his fate as a gladiator. My father was dying. I would have the money my grandfather had left me, enough surely to buy one slave. My thoughts were clouded, and my logic sadly askew as I strode through the wakening streets on my way to the slave market.
With a sinking heart, I stared at the empty cage that only yesterday had held him captive. I looked around for the slave master, and found him busily engaged bartering over the sale of two lovely young girls with ebony skin, and frightened eyes. Patiently I waited until he had concluded his business, and the two lovelies were led away.
“What can I do for you, young sir?” the slave master asked, eyeing my patrician bearing and good clothes. He could smell money.
“The Gaul who was in that cage over there yesterday —where is he?”
“Gone, early this morning. He was taken to the ludo for training. A good gladiator he’ll make, if he can survive the first few go-arounds.” He gave me a sly look. “Like that kind, do you? I can show you another—”
“No! I’m not interested in buying another slave.” I walked off quickly, and headed for Dido’s house. She and Turio would no doubt be having breakfast at this hour, and would not mind my sudden appearance at their door.
Dido greeted me with a smile as her personal maid ushered me into their bedchamber. “Lucius, up and about so early. What business can have been so pressing at this hour?”
Turio peered at me with sleepy but knowing eyes. “You’ve been to the slave market again, haven’t you? Well, did you buy him?”
“The ludo owner has him,” I said, perching on the edge of their bed.
“A good thing too…” Dido offered me a bunch of grapes. “You really are too good for that kind of man, Lucius.”
“You didn’t see him.” I pulled a grape from the bunch and popped it into my mouth.
Turio rolled his eyes. “By the gods, Lucius,” he grumbled. “Are we to be subjected to that long face of yours from now on?”
Dido chuckled. “Of course not. He’ll be over this infatuation quick enough. What’s the point of hankering over what you cannot have? Besides,” she added, “he won’t last long in the arena.”
I shuddered at the thought of him impaled on the end of a trident, or having his brains bashed out by a hammer.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Turio gave me a long look. “He’s a big one. Might be able to look after himself in the arena—for a time, anyway.”
“I think I might go watch him train,” I said. “Cassius says he has an in with the lanista, Lentullus Batiatus, the ludo owner. Perhaps we could all three go together.”
Dido giggled.“I’m game. I’d like to see what you’re so horny over.”
“I’m not horny,” I protested. “I just found him attractive, that’s all.”
Both Dido and Turio hooted at my remark, and I have to admit I felt somewhat irked by their obvious pleasure in my discomfort.
“Well…” I slid off their silk covered bed. “I’ll leave you both to your merriment—and whatever else you do together.”
“Oh, don’t pout, Lucius.” Dido ran her hands over Turio’s chest. “You can join us, if you like.” She nudged Turio.
“Right,” he said, not very convincingly.
I shook my head. “Thanks, but I think I’ll go and see if Cassius can arrange for us to go to the ludo, later this week.” By the time I reached the door, they had forgotten I had been there.
× × × × ×
My friend Cassius was in his garden sipping some honeyed wine. As always, he had the look of a plump, well-fed cat; his coal-black hair oiled and combed forward, his lumpish body swathed in a robe of soft linen.
“Lucius,” he exclaimed happily on seeing me. “Come sit, and try some of this incredible brew Jocasta has mixed for me.” Jocasta was his latest purchase, a Jewess with raven black hair, and eyes so dark one could never really tell what she was thinking. I found her unsettling, and although I would not say so, any drink that she served me, I would look upon with suspicion. Cassius smiled, and handed me his cup.
“Try it.” He waved his cup under my nose to coax me. “It’s like nothing you’ll ever have tasted.”
Warily, I sipped at it, and despite my reservations, I had to admit it tasted delicious. Cassius called for Jocasta.
“My dear…” He smiled at the imposing woman, who regarded me askance. “Bring my friend Lucius a cup of this wonderful wine. Better still, bring a jug that we might share it.” With difficulty, Cassius tore his eyes away from Jocasta’s curvaceous body as she walked away to do his bidding, and gave me his attention again. “So what brings you here so early in the day?”
“I wondered if you could arrange for Turio, Dido and I to watch a training session at the gladiator school.”
“Certainly, I can. As a matter of fact, I’m going there on Friday afternoon. Are you free, say about three? I understand he’s putting the new recruits through their paces about that time.”
I felt a surge of excitement at the thought of seeing Callistus in action. “I’ll let Dido and Turio know, but even if they can’t make it, I’ll be there.”
“Splendid. By the way, how is your father’s health?”
“Bad, I’m afraid. The doctors don’t give my mother much hope for his recovery.”
“Oh, so sad.” Cassius’s round, plump face showed his regret.
“Yes.” I wished that I could have sounded more upset, but my father was not my friend.
“What are your plans today, young Lucius?”
“I’m off to the gymnasium. I have a wrestling match with Petronius.”
“Oh, you youngsters.” Cassius shifted his big body with irritation. “It seems you always have to prove yourselves. Stay with me instead and enjoy this wine.”
I held out my cup. “Just one more, Cassius. I can’t keep Petronius waiting. He gets upset very easily these days since his brother, Marcus, was killed in Bythnia.”
I did not add that the news of Marcus’ death had filled me with a despondency it took several weeks for me to get over. Marcus, Petronius, Turio and I had grown up together, and I had been sec
retly infatuated with Marcus. Even at that moment in Cassius’ sun-filled garden, when my mind captured Marcus’ dazzling smile, I felt my chest fill with pain.
He had been with General Lucullus in his successful campaign against Mithradates of Pontus, the monster responsible for the massacre of thousands of Roman civilians. Unfortunately, Marcus had not lived to savor the triumph of that victory.
Cassius sighed. “Who would have thought the poor boy would die so soon? He’d only been in the army six months, had he not? Unbelievable that they would put him in the front lines so soon, and he so young.”
“Twenty,” I said. “Older than I when I enlisted.”
“A tragedy that so many of our young men are being used so.”
“Hasn’t it always been like this?” I threw back the last of my wine. “All able young men must fight for the Republic.” Although as Capuans we were not citizens of Rome, we were bound by some of the same laws. We were expected to enlist, and serve time in the Roman army.
He nodded, then met my eyes with sadness. “I hate wars,” he said, refilling his cup. “It’s one thing to defend one’s country, quite another to lay waste to strange lands, and in doing so, take away our young men’s futures. So many deaths I have seen in my lifetime.”
I looked at him and bit my tongue. These were strange words from a man who spent practically all his spare time at the arena. No wonder he had seen so many deaths! Still, I was not about to argue the point with him at this moment. I needed him in good spirits for the morrow, when he would take me to see my Gaul in action. Murmuring agreement of Cassius’ musings seemed the best thing at the time, and as he rambled on about the state of politics and corruption in Rome, I listened with an attentive smile, while my mind raced away with thoughts of Callistus, and what he might be enduring in his first day in the ludo.
× × × × ×
When I arrived late, and a little out of breath after having run all the way to the gymnasium, Petronius looked up at me from his seat on a marble bench, and gave me a wry smile.
“Sorry, I’m so late…” I sat next to him on the bench. Petronius and I were often mistaken for brothers. I expect we did look somewhat alike, both having dark, curly hair, but whereas my eyes are a dark brown, his were lighter, almost hazel. My skin is fairer than his, he being olive complexioned, but we are of an equal height, and as I say, our closeness often gave the onlooker the idea we were related.
