Barbarian Prize

by Deanna Ashford

  His movement attracted the beast’s attention, and with a loud roar it bounded towards him. Tucking the dagger into the waistband of his loincloth, he bent and grabbed two handfuls of sand just as the lion sprang. It was as if time stopped for a moment: he saw the gaping jaws, the massive yellow teeth and smelt the foulness of its breath. Moving swiftly, he darted to one side and threw the sand in the creature’s eyes.

  The lion gave a strange wailing roar as it landed a little clumsily, shaking its head and pawing at its face trying to wipe the sand from its eyes. Taranis took the brief opportunity to sprint for the spear, still lying so tantalisingly on the ground. He flung himself down and in a smooth rolling motion grabbed the spear and sprang lightly to his feet.

  The crowd had been taken totally by surprise, nothing like this had ever happened before during an execution. They roared their approval, this time not siding with the beasts but with the slave who was ready to fight for his life.

  Taranis pulled out the dagger, holding both weapons in front of him, as the lion, now recovered, bounded furiously towards him. As the creature attacked, Taranis stepped forwards and plunged the tip of the spear in the thick yellow pelt of its chest. It veered aside, blood dripping from the wound. Taranis had been born to be a warrior – man or beast, it was all the same to him, now he felt he was on more level ground. Keeping one eye on the wolves still circling the arena, but gradually moving closer, attracted by the smell of fresh blood, he faced the lion again, as he and the king of the beasts fought each other for supremacy.

  Every time the beast lunged towards him, Taranis jabbed at it with the spear, each time driving it back. The adrenaline rush of battle gave him extra speed and strength – fear was no longer an issue here, it was a fight to the death that he had to win at all costs. The lion went for him time and time again. Taranis countered with his spear, but, on the last attack, the beast just managed to catch his left thigh with the tip of its claws, but he didn’t even feel the pain of the wound, as the blood dripped down his leg. He knew that the lion was tiring a little and this time, when it snarled furiously and pounced again, he managed to thrust his spear deep into the massive chest. It slid past the creature’s breastbone, the tip of the spear piercing its heart, whereupon its front legs gave way and it fell to the ground panting heavily.

  Taranis leapt astride its back and put an arm around the thick neck. He felt the springy hair of its ruff rub against his arm, as he swiftly slit its throat.

  He barely heard the loud roar of approval from the crowd as the creature’s life began to drain away on to the sand, because the wolves, attracted by the slaughter, suddenly attacked. Taranis didn’t know if it was him or the dying lion that was their ultimate prey but it didn’t really matter. If he wanted to get out of this arena and perhaps be allowed to live, he had to kill them all.

  With a loud snarl, one wolf sprang towards the felled lion and Taranis kicked it hard in the chest with his bare foot. It gave a yelp of pain, as it fell back. After springing away from the corpse of the lion, Taranis lunged forwards and managed to grab hold of another wolf by the scruff of its neck. Ignoring the snapping jaws, he dug his dagger deep into its side and it collapsed on the sand. Hearing a low menacing growl, he just managed to veer aside, as another of the creatures sprang. Jerking the spear from the lion’s chest, he aimed and threw it in one smooth movement. As the second wolf fell dead to the ground, the spear buried deep in its body, the crowd gave another excited roar of approval.

  The last wolf, the one he’d kicked and obviously hurt in some way, slunk nervously away from him. Blood still dripping from his wound, Taranis ran after it. Knowing it was cornered, the wolf turned to attack. Opening its jaws, it sprang for his arm. Before it could grab hold of him, Taranis punched it hard on the side of the head. Half-stunned, it fell with a yelping bark, whereupon he bent, grabbed hold of its neck and swiftly slit its throat.

  Covered with his own, and the slaughtered creatures’ blood, Taranis, now gasping for breath, straightened and turned to acknowledge the approval of the crowd. He stood there like some primeval blood-drenched hunter, as they roared their approval and stamped their feet.

  They stood up, nearly all of them, and raised their right hands in the air, thumbs turned up towards the sky, and Taranis knew that the magistrates had no choice but to spare him now. Exhausted but elated, Taranis lifted his arms in a defiant gesture of acknowledgement, then he walked towards the wide barred gate of life that had been pulled open for him.

  The gladiatorial barracks were located just behind the larger of the two theatres in Pompeii, as the original barracks, close to the arena, had been badly damaged in the catastrophic earthquake almost seventeen years earlier.

  Julia went to the games like everyone else did in Pompeii, but she had never been inside this place before. The rectangular training ground was massive and it was surrounded by a colonnaded walkway on to which the individual cells opened. Each cell could accommodate up to six gladiators and there were at least twenty-five cells on the ground floor alone, as well as a guardroom, storage chambers, a kitchen and a communal dining hall.

  ‘How many gladiators are there here?’ Julia asked the guard who accompanied her.

  ‘One hundred and eighty at present, although we can house up to two hundred at a time.’

  Julia had never realised that so many men were housed here, spending their days training just to kill each other and now Taranis was one of them. Fortunately for her, it was quite common for rich women to take gladiators as their lovers, so it was easy enough for her to slip the guards a few coins in order to be allowed in to see Taranis.

  She had covered her eyes half the time he was in the arena fighting the lion and wolves, fearing that he might be killed at any moment. However, her prayers had been answered and he had survived. She had been so proud when she had seen him standing there, drenched in blood, acknowledging the roars of approval from the crowd. The magistrates had been given no choice, as the crowd wanted them to spare Taranis. However, they’d refused to return him to Poppaea; instead, he had been sentenced to life as a gladiator.

  ‘He’s in here,’ the guard said, unbolting a door.

  Julia was nervous, not at all certain how badly hurt he might be. As she entered the room, she saw Taranis lying on a low bed covered by a thin linen sheet.

  When he saw her, he smiled and sat up and, to her relief, he looked surprisingly well. ‘Julia, I hoped you’d come.’

  Taranis swung his feet to the floor, leaving only his lower torso concealed by the sheet, and she could just see the wide bandage covering the claw marks the lion had made on his thigh, but no other visible wounds.

  ‘Taranis, you are all right?’ she said haltingly, feeling a little unsettled at just seeing him again.

  ‘Surprisingly well,’ he confirmed, patting the narrow mattress. ‘Come – sit beside me.’

  Her skin began to tingle in anticipation, just at the mere thought that he was totally naked beneath the thin sheet draped across his groin. She forced herself to keep her eyes away from his wide chest, flat belly and the fine arrow of pale golden hairs leading tantalisingly down to his sex. ‘You look so much better than I had expected.’

  ‘Cnaius kindly arranged for Galen, a doctor from the Imperial gladiatorial barracks at Capua, to treat me,’ he explained, as she sat down beside him. ‘Galen has practised there for some time and appears able to work miracles. His knowledge of the human body is amazing, so I’m recovering quickly. I have to be fit, as Cnaius wants me to fight the day after tomorrow on the last day of the games.’

  ‘So soon,’ she said anxiously.

  They were so close their legs were touching, with only the skirt of her stola between her body and his. Her skin tingled and she felt as weak as a kitten, as she thought of his delicious cock hiding under that thin linen sheet. Lust had once been unknown to Julia but now her life seemed to be controlled by it, as she stared at Taranis’s handsome face and inhaled the clean masculine scent of his b
ody.

  ‘I have no choice,’ he told her.

  On the whole, gladiators did not fight all that often, and, when a new man joined the troupe, he underwent vigorous and extensive training before he was let loose in the arena. Nevertheless, Cnaius had a right to decide because in the eyes of the law he now owned Taranis. After the magistrates had transmuted his sentence, they’d made a special arrangement with Cnaius. He had immediately sent Poppaea the three hundred and sixty thousand denarii that she had initially paid for Taranis, and she had no choice in the circumstances but to agree to the sale.

  ‘I could ask Cnaius to give you more time,’ she suggested.

  ‘Don’t be concerned,’ Taranis said confidently. ‘After all, I spent a lot of time training with Poppaea’s guards so I’m still reasonably fit. Don’t forget, Julia,’ he said with a self-assured grin, ‘I’ve taken part in enough battles in the past to fully prepare me for a moment like this.’ He tenderly kissed her cheek. ‘I’ll survive, never fear.’

  She couldn’t understand how he could appear so untroubled by all this. Most likely he would face one of the most experienced gladiators Pompeii had to offer. She just couldn’t bear to think of him dying, when yesterday morning he had fought so hard to survive. ‘I’ll go to the temple of Apollo and pray to him to protect you.’

  ‘Why waste time on talking and praying?’ he said huskily. His lips covered hers and he kissed her passionately, as he gently pulled her back down on to the bed.

  She didn’t know how he achieved it, but moments later she was naked, her bare flesh pressed to his. Julia shivered as his hands stroked and kneaded her breasts, pulling at her nipples until they stiffened and ached with pleasure. Slowly, he ran his large hands over her body, tracing the line of her hip, the soft curves of her belly. His fingers brushed her groin; she’d given up the painful plucking and he buried his fingertips in the dark springy curls that had started to flourish again.

  ‘Sweet Julia,’ he murmured, kissing her again, pushing his tongue deep into her mouth. He pulled her even closer so that she could feel the hard line of his erect penis pressing against her body. She felt moisture fill her sex and, when his hands parted her thighs, his fingers slid smoothly inside her, just where they were meant to be. He moved them gently and she moaned aloud with bliss.

  ‘I’m the one who’s wounded,’ he said teasingly, as he rolled on to his back, pulling her atop him. ‘So you’ll have to do all the hard work.’

  Julia didn’t want to wait a moment longer to feel that glorious cock inside her. Sliding her thighs astride his lean hips, she took hold of his shaft, which was already hard, and guided it slowly into her vagina. Then she sank down, sheathing herself on his body and it felt so wonderful to have this man inside her again.

  ‘You’re so big. The first time, I thought I’d never be able to accommodate your whole manhood,’ she confessed, deliberately squeezing her internal muscles, clasping his cock even tighter and he gave a soft groan.

  ‘You did and it feels so good,’ he managed to gasp, as she started to move her hips.

  She stared at his handsome face, desire etched on his features. Her legs trembled just at the sheer delight of making love to him again. Everything was so much simpler now that his blue eyes were no longer clouded by the secrets he’d hidden from her in the past. Tenderly, he held on to her hips as she lifted her body, then thrust down again, enjoying the sheer pleasure of being impaled to the hilt.

  ‘Julia, faster,’ he begged, working his body with hers, lifting his pelvis, trying to press his groin harder against her pussy.

  He reached for her breasts, kneading them gently, pulling on her nipples as she fucked him slowly and deliberately, wanting to draw out this pleasure for as long as she could.

  Taranis wasn’t having any of that – grabbing hold of her waist, he rolled her over in one smooth movement. Then somehow he was on top, pounding into her with hard decisive strokes, grinding his hips against her soft willing body. His mouth closed over one full breast, evoking a tingling sensation that shot through her, deep into her sex, as his rhythm increased. As he thrust even harder, his lips pulling on her hard teat, she twined her arms around him, digging her fingers into his muscular back, which was still criss-crossed with faint weals from the whipping. She felt the amazing strength of his body powering into her until she thought she might expire from the sweet unmitigated pleasure.

  Julia came in a sudden rush, climaxing so violently that she was barely aware of his cock pumping orgasmically deep inside her. Afterwards, he cradled her lovingly in his arms. There was no need for words and, for a short while at least, no fears for the future. Then, before she left, Taranis made love to her again.

  Sirona had never been to an amphitheatre before, let alone witnessed the games where men were forced to fight each other to death in the arena. It seemed utterly barbaric to her for men to die in the name of entertainment, yet in the Romans’ eyes she was the barbarian, not them. Sirona had not wanted to come here today, but Lucius had insisted. She had got ready, feeling very apprehensive, because she had no desire to sit there and watch slaves being forced to kill each other. Then, moments before they were due to leave, Lucius had told her in a matter-of-fact tone, as if the subject would be of little interest to her, that Taranis was fighting today.

  How would she cope with watching Taranis fight and perhaps die in the arena? she wondered anxiously, as she saw the impressive building for the very first time. Many people were milling around the place, among them were the programme sellers and food and drink vendors. She heard people talking excitedly about the main events and which gladiators they might make wagers on. Most were not stopping; they were walking swiftly towards the outer staircases which led to the upper terraces where the general populace sat.

  Lucius took hold of her arm and led her through a wide tunnel, under the outer part of the building. It was still very hot and there was a strange atmosphere in the air today. Sirona had the uneasy sensation that something momentous was about to happen, and she was certain that it wasn’t just her fear for Taranis that made her feel this way. At home, she had somehow been able to sense when a storm or bad weather was coming; it was if she knew what Mother Earth was planning. Yet there was no sign of a storm on the horizon, and she knew that rain rarely fell at this time of the year, even though the parched countryside desperately needed water. Lucius had told her that public fountains in some of the nearby towns had all but dried up. It might be blockages or damage underground to the Aqua Augusta, which served many of the towns and cities in this area, yet the fountains in Pompeii flowed as freely as ever. Even so, Admiral Pliny was supposedly despatching an engineer from Misenum to investigate the problem.

  They turned left into a corridor, which appeared to circle the inner part of the building. There were only a few richly dressed citizens walking this way now.

  ‘Up here is our box,’ Lucius said, guiding her up a flight of steep stone steps. They reached the ima cavae. Their seats, in a small private box, were close to where all the most important citizens were placed. Aulus Vettius was already here, sitting with four magistrates who ran the city and she hated them all, every single Roman citizen. Yet not Lucius, she thought, despite everything, he had been extraordinarily kind to her most of the time. Lucius led her into the privacy of their small box, a canopy covering the top so that they were shielded from the burning rays of the sun.

  Sirona sat down on the carved, cushioned chair, and Lucius sat down beside her. The arena was huge, the bright sunlight reflecting off the pale sand. A mixed array of wild beasts, including a massive spotted creature with an incredibly long neck, and an elephant – an animal she’d only seen pictures of before – were being paraded around to entertain the crowd. Sirona knew that somewhere below her, in the bowels of the building, Taranis was imprisoned, waiting to fight.

  Sirona had not known what had happened to him after they had been so cruelly torn apart at Julia’s party. Lucius had told her nothing and had kept h
er confined to the villa. She had to let herself think that it was purely to spare her feelings that he had ordered the household slaves not to repeat any of the city gossip. It was only when Julia had briefly visited her brother, late the previous afternoon, that Sirona had at last discovered what terrible things had happened to Taranis.

  She glanced at Lucius who didn’t appear to be enjoying himself at all. His features were taut and he was irritably tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. Not surprisingly, their relationship had become rather strained since the incident with Taranis, even more so when Lucius had discovered that in Brittania they had been betrothed. All their problems stemmed from the fact that Lucius was acutely jealous, despite the fact that, for the sake of their fragile relationship, she had determinedly denied that she still loved Taranis. However, she had never found it easy to hide her true feelings and he had not believed her lies. In many ways, she still cared for Lucius, but his jealousy had caused a barrier between them that she knew even Taranis’s untimely death could not destroy.

  All of a sudden there was a fanfare of trumpets and Sirona forced herself to look down into the arena. The first pair of gladiators entered, a heavily armed man called a murmillo who was pitted against a retarius, a man who fought with a net and trident.

  Lucius consulted the papyrus programme he had purchased. ‘Ten pairs of gladiators will be fighting,’ he told her. ‘Then they will be staging a recreation of the battle of Troy.’ He didn’t tell her in which part of the programme Taranis would fight and she felt it wiser not to ask him, as she would learn soon enough when she saw her beloved walking into the arena.

  Time passed slowly for Sirona, as she stared straight ahead, but her eyes were not seeing the men fighting and dying on the sand, she was reliving in her mind all the precious moments she had spent with Taranis. It was said that the very last thing a dying person saw was their life spread out before them, maybe that was true but she was also seeing it right now.