Slaves to Love - One

by J. P. Bowie

  Remembering my dream of him, I closed my eyes in an effort to dispel the thoughts that he might laugh in my face at my attempts to negotiate a compromise between Lentullus and the gladiators. I groaned aloud at the thought of his rejection, and how my admiration for him might, after this day, be replaced by feelings of embarrassment and humiliation.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Still exhausted from lack of sleep, and decidedly bleary-eyed, I made my way to my first class of the day. I was short tempered, and my students inattentive. Not an auspicious start to the day. Gracus was not at all pleased to hear my request that I be allowed two hours off, for reasons I could not divulge, but he reluctantly agreed, after I promised I would work one extra day that week.

  I could tell he was quite impressed when a litter and four stalwart men sent by Lentullus arrived at the school gates. My students crowded around, curiosity written all over their young faces as I climbed inside, and was carried off to the ludo.

  Lentullus was there to meet me, and words cannot fully describe the apprehension I felt as I accompanied him through the gates of his domain. I felt sick to my stomach, my heart was fluttering madly in my chest, and my head seemed to want to lift itself off my shoulders. In other words, I was scared to death.

  “So, young Lucius…” It seemed Lentullus could not keep the trace of a sneer off his thick lips. “Your hero awaits your words of wisdom. I suppose, in a way, the people’s entertainment rests with you.”

  He wasted no time in summoning the guards who would bring Callistus to the room where I would meet him. He left me alone there in the barely furnished space that seemed to serve as both a storage room and a small cell. When the door abruptly swung open on creaking hinges, I almost jumped out of my skin. Then, there he was, framed in the doorway, so tall that he had to bow his head slightly to enter.

  For what seemed an eternity after the door had been slammed shut behind him, we simply stood looking at one another, not moving, not speaking. My breath caught in my chest as I took in the magnificent sight before me. They had obviously allowed him to bathe, and wear a change of clothing. His hair shone in the sunlight that filtered through the grimy window behind me, falling about his wide shoulders in golden waves. I wanted to reach out and touch it, and my hand actually left my side as though it had a life of its own. Catching myself in time, I pulled it back, and clenched my fist.

  There is a heat that starts in the pit of a man’s stomach and spreads through his loins seemingly of its own accord. It is called desire, and staring at Callistus, taking in the total splendor of his masculine beauty, I felt that heat. It seeped into my blood, causing my heart to hammer in my chest so loudly I could swear he could hear it as clearly as I.

  Dear Juno, Mistress of all the gods. I sent up a silent prayer to her. Please stop this body of mine from trembling and disclosing just how much his mere presence affects my senses.

  “Are you afraid of me?” His voice was deep, but not rough, and though his accent was pronounced, he had obviously been taught Latin at some time in his life. In the confines of that small room, he seemed even taller than I remembered. A full head taller than myself. His powerful body, so used to intimidate and command, was almost overwhelming in its presence.

  I shook my head, swallowing hard. “No, I am not afraid.”

  He smiled. “Good. I am Callistus.”

  “I…I know. I am named Lucius Tullius. Do you know why I am here?” I asked him, meeting his azure stare.

  He grinned at me. “To talk me into being a good gladiator, and to stop giving Lentullus trouble.”

  Now it was my turn to smile. “Somehow, I don’t think you could be ‘talked into’ anything you did not want to do. But that’s not the only reason I am here.”

  “Oh?”

  “I wanted to meet you, to thank you for the honor you paid me in the arena the other day. That is something I will remember for the rest of my life.”

  He stared at me in silence, just a hint of a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

  “But, of more importance to your present condition,” I continued, “to tell you that I have extracted from Lentullus a promise that he will listen to your complaints in a fair-minded fashion. He intends to try to find compromise with you, if you in turn will speak with Spartacus, and make an end to the disquiet he has instilled in the men.”

  “Spartacus does not listen to me.”

  “You are friends, are you not?”

  “He is our leader.”

  “Callistus...” I faltered for a moment, wanting to keep the sound of his name on my lips. “Callistus, you cannot have a leader here. Lentullus sees that as insurrection, and he will not let it go unpunished.”

  His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug of indifference. “He cannot punish us forever, Lucius. It is not profitable.”

  “Exactly. I suggested to him that he returns everything to the status quo, as quickly as possible. This he will do if Spartacus agrees to curtail any more talk of riots. In return, he will improve the conditions here, and listen to your complaints. I understand a young man was severely beaten—”

  “Yes. Quintillus. He was tied down, and beaten by cowards.”

  I shuddered as I gazed at the intensity in his eyes. “Lentullus says he will make reparation,” I told him. “Perhaps if you can assure him that the men will be more cooperative in future, he will make better the overall conditions here.”

  He looked at me without speaking for so long that I grew nervous. “Callistus?”

  “Tell me…” His deep voice was calm and serious. “Do you approve of slavery, Lucius?”

  I was taken aback by his question. “Approve of it?”

  “Yes, approve of it. Do you feel that one man should be in bondage to another? That his freedom should be taken away simply because he is of another country, or another belief?”

  “I am ashamed to say that I have never given it much thought,” I replied, feeling uncomfortable under his steady gaze. “Slavery is a part of our economy. It is essential—”

  “It is wrong.”

  “Wait,” I said, bristling. “Your people make slaves of those they capture.”

  “True, but that still does not make it right.”

  “So, you disapprove of it?”

  “Yes, and I will never agree to compromise with someone who keeps me, and my fellow man, under the yoke. All men should be free, Lucius. Free to follow their own destiny—free to love whom they choose.”

  He had moved closer to me as he spoke, and so enthralled was I by him, I did not move away. His big hands reached for me, one encircling my throat, the other grasping the hair on the back of my head, and for a moment I thought he meant to break my neck. I closed my eyes, unable to utter a sound, then I felt his lips on mine, warm, soft, and sweet, just as I knew they would be. My knees gave way, but he caught me in his arms, crushing me to him, holding me in a powerful embrace from which I never wanted to escape.

  My lips parted under the pressure of his kiss, my body burned with desire as his tongue slid between my teeth, filling my mouth with its moist warmth. I clung to him, my arms about his neck, losing myself in his kiss, returning it with a hunger that until then, I did not know was a part of me. It seemed as if time stood still, that he and I were the only two people in existence, and that in the sweet intensity of his kiss there was held a promise of so much more. I pressed my body against the hard wall of his torso, reveling in the feel of the solid, warm flesh beneath the thin fabric of his tunic. His skin smelled of the soap he had recently used, but underneath I could detect his scent, his maleness, and my head reeled from the intoxication he imbued me with.

  This was my dream become reality, I exulted, hardly able to believe that the man I had longed to be alone with for so long was here, holding me in his embrace, kissing me with a fervor that matched my own. My cock had hardened to an almost painful degree, and as his tongue swept deeper inside my mouth, I pressed my erection against the hard bulge I could feel beneath his tu
nic.

  Then, all too soon, it was over. His hands slipped to my waist and he released me from his embrace. I staggered back, breathing heavily, weak now without his arms to support me.

  His smile was enigmatic. “You see, Lucius,” he said quietly, “what might have been, were I not a slave?” He turned to go, then paused by the door. “I will speak with Spartacus.”

  The guards flanked him on either side as he opened the door, and was marched away from my sight. I leaned against the table in the middle of that small room, my head spinning from what had just taken place. But before I could think more on it, Lentullus was in the doorway.

  “Well?” he barked.

  I took a deep breath to steady my trembling. “He will speak with Spartacus. That is all he said.”

  “It may be enough. Are you all right?” He peered across the room at me. “You look pale. Did he threaten you?”

  “No, no.” I gave myself a shake. “I think I was just nervous being alone with him.”

  “Well, you may have at least begun a dialogue. My thanks, young Lucius. May I call on you again, should they wish you to be their liaison?”

  “Yes, of course. Lentullus, about the boy, Quintillus, who was beaten—”

  “What of him?”

  “Make sure he is tended to, and the guards warned off any other form of brutish behavior. If punishment is to be meted out, it should be done fairly, and in the open, not in a darkened cell by cowards.”

  “You dare—?”

  “You asked me to come here, Lentullus. If you cannot see the diplomacy in what I say, then I can be of no further use to you.”

  He scowled at me, and was about to turn on his heel, when he must have had second thoughts. “Very well,” he growled. “I will speak to the guards—but I will not have discipline compromised by softness.”

  Somehow, I did not think that his words would have much impact on the loutish guards that watched me leave, their expressions surly and defiant. I could only pray they had enough sense to leave Callistus alone, not vent their spiteful natures on the man for whom I now held the deepest admiration.

  Despite telling Gracus Filio that I would be gone from the school but two hours or so, I could not return to my classes right away. To take on the mundane, after what had passed between Callistus and myself, seemed impossible. I wandered into the forum to sit awhile on a marble bench, watching some children at play. I swear I could still taste the sweetness of the Gaul’s lips on mine, the strength of his arms about me, and my body trembled with desire at the memory of it.

  “Do you approve of slavery?” he had asked me, and I’d had no satisfactory answer. For the second time in recent days, I had been made to think of a man’s right to make his own way in life. Not to be fettered by another’s whims and dictates.

  “You see, Lucius,” he had said. “What might have been, if I were not a slave…” His words played over and over in my head, and I felt hot tears spring to my eyes as I understood only too well what he had meant. His letting me experience something I never could have again, had left me bereft and desolate. He had become the master—and I the slave.

  × × × × ×

  CALLISTUS

  What, I wondered, as I was escorted back to my cell after my meeting with Lucius, had possessed me to kiss him at that moment. To prove a point, perhaps? To open his eyes to the possibilities that remained out of his reach because of my present situation? I could see that behind that sweet, beguiling exterior, lay a hunger that craved love and affection. Or was it because I had simply wanted to?

  Were I honest with myself, I would admit to the latter first; the other reasons were unimportant. Truth to tell, I knew nothing of him, and he nothing of me, beyond the fact that he thought me a gladiator worthy of his support. I could see in him a young man of compassion, of principle—and considerable charm and beauty.

  He had felt good in my arms, as though he belonged there. That stolen kiss had touched my heart and soul in a way I had not before considered possible. My words, though bitter sounding, had been spoken in truth. For between us, lay a near unbridgeable chasm created by a society that cared little for the welfare of men and women. As long as slavery existed, as long as all men were not viewed as equal beings, friendship such as the one I would have forged with Lucius was impossible.

  I spoke with Spartacus as I had promised, and he agreed that the time for our escape was not yet here. We would settle our differences with Lentullus Batiatus, and return to the arena. Let him think that we had been cowed by our ‘punishment’ and that his emissary had opened our eyes to the futility of dissension. In the meantime, our plans would proceed, and when the time came to make our move, the men would be well prepared to overwhelm the guards, and any other force they might send against us.

  Still, my thoughts would return again and again to those moments when I had held Lucius in my arms. He became my fantasy, played out in my head, time and time again. Each night, as I lay in my narrow bed, listening to the sighs and snores of my fellow slaves, I would escape, using the memory of Lucius and the sweetly eager way he had returned my embrace. I would grow hard remembering his body; so warm and pliant within my arms, and his lips; soft yet demanding, upon mine. I would imagine him lying with me, his naked body pressed to mine; his urgent, silent entreaty that I take dominion over him.

  And I would think, Lucius, do you also hunger for me?

  × × × × ×

  LUCIUS

  During the days that followed, I determined that all thoughts of Callistus must be banished from my mind. My only goals should be that I become a dedicated teacher, and ensure my mother and sisters were well taken care of.

  Having all our debts removed was a huge load off my mind, and my mother’s obvious joy almost helped salve my sadder moments. Trying to forget someone as vibrant and beautiful as Callistus proved to be my ultimate failure. I might endeavor to resist the vision of his face that swam before my eyes day and night, but I could not, and the realization that my love for him did not decrease as time went by, filled me with a kind of gnawing despair.

  Through friends, I heard that peace had been restored at the ludo, and that the gladiator spectacles at the arena had once more resumed.

  I dared not go near the arena.

  The thought of seeing him there, having him perhaps see me, filled me with dread. After what had passed between us, when I had shown how much I wanted him, when I had so readily given in to the desire that had flooded my being, how could I now expect him to smile at me as he had before? Surely, he would be filled with disdain for the young patrician who would so easily have given himself to a slave. The memory of it made my face burn with embarrassment, while my body ached with desire.

  And so life continued, uncertainty and misery clouding each day, though I daresay I put on a brave face for the sake of my family and friends. I could not even tell Petronius of what had happened between Callistus and myself in that tiny room at the ludo. He would have been appalled, and called me a fool for letting it happen, instead of summoning the guards to put an end to it. How could I ever tell him that such a notion had not, for one moment, crossed my mind? What I had longed for, had dreamed of, had been manifested in that single moment in time when Callistus had held me captive in his arms. I could tell Petronius none of that. He would have thought me mad.

  And perhaps I was.

  × × × × ×

  One balmy evening as I sat in the garden room reading, my mother and sisters having retired for the night, I had unannounced visitors. Cassius and, of all people, Lentullus Batiatus, looking much the worse for wear.

  “Lucius…” He seemed quite out of breath. “I need your help—now.”

  “What has happened?”

  “One of my foolhardy guards killed a slave, just an hour hence—an accident, he said, but Spartacus is demanding his death as payment. I need you to make him see sense.”

  “Me?” I gaped at him. “I am not an arbitrator, Lentullus. I have no experience in these
matters. Why on earth would he listen to me?”

  “Because he asked for you by name! Callistus spoke of you to him.”

  My expression must have shown my amazement, for Cassius felt the need to affirm what Lentullus had just said.

  “It is so, dear Lucius,” he said, taking my arm. “The slave will speak to no one else.”

  “By the gods, I cannot believe this,” I sputtered. “What cause did the guard give for the killing?”

  Lentullus looked away, his expression grim. “I chastised him and two others for the beating of young Quintillus, just as you demanded.”

  “Just as I asked,” I retorted quickly. “I made no demands, Lentullus.” I could see where this was going, and I did not like his implication. “And yet he still claims it was an accident?”

  “He beat him too hard. He did not mean for the boy to die.”

  “Boy? You mean it was Quintillus who died?”

  “Yes.” Lentullus had the grace to look somewhat ashamed.

  “Jupiter,” I muttered. “Your guards may have cost you more than you know, Lentullus.”

  “Will you speak with Spartacus?” Cassius asked, pressing my arm.

  “I will. But I can promise nothing.”

  The ludo was in an uproar when we got there. Some of the gladiators had broken out of their cells, and were now being held at bay by a very nervous looking group of guards. I saw Callistus immediately, for there was no mistaking his height and bearing. At his side, Spartacus stood, arms folded, his face grim and hard.

  Lentullus pushed me forward, past the guards. “Here is Lucius, Spartacus,” he yelled. “Keep your word, and talk with him.”

  At a signal from Spartacus the hubbub died. Everyone’s eyes were on me. I had never felt quite so scared in my life. Yes, I’d had military training, but had seen little action, and this press of barbarians was, by anyone’s standards, wholly intimidating.

  Trying to keep the tremor from my voice, I called out, “May I approach?”

  “Approach!” This curt command came from Spartacus, looking fiercer than ever I had seen him in the arena. He looked me up and down, then murmured something to Callistus that I could not hear. Callistus nodded, and beckoned me forward. I could not help but stare at his sweat soaked chest, as it heaved from the exertions of keeping order among the angry gladiators.