by Nadia Aidan
“By whom?”
Artemisia’s wide-eyed look slammed into her at the same time Petricles unlocked their door. Before she could reply, Artemisia scurried out, and with Petricles hovering as he escorted them through the vestibules, Aurora never found the opportunity to question the girl further.
And that evening, when they were alone, Aurora never found the ideal moment to broach the matter again, not without appearing obvious.
Aurora would later search for the piece of jewelry, but she would not find it, not in their quarters and not on Artemisia’s person when she looked at her, which convinced Aurora she must have surely been mistaken about the talisman hanging from Artemisia’s neck.
Chapter Five
Upon entering the training arena, Aurora noted that Primus did not join them this day. She doubted he would again if the words of Claudius were to be believed, and she did not get the impression Claudius made idle statements.
Aurora also noticed that Primus’ little gang of followers gave her a wide berth, although they remained brave enough to treat her to hateful stares—that was, until she met their gazes, and they cowered. Such spinelessness had no place in the gladiatorial arena. Aurora would be surprised if any one of them passed the final test.
The last thing that struck her, which surprised her greatly, was the gladiators of the ludus did not treat her with further coldness, as she’d expected. Her ferocity in dealing with Primus had earned their respect. She had proven she belonged there, like all the others. She had proven she was one of them.
Training for that day passed without incident.
With the exception of the furtive glances that she could not seem to stop herself from casting in Cyrus’ direction, she managed to pretend as if nothing untoward had transpired between them. Cyrus did the same, but ever so often she would catch his eyes upon her, lingering for longer than was necessary.
When dusk settled over the arena, and Cyrus called an end to their training, Aurora prepared to take her leave, trailing behind the other gladiators and the recruits, but Cyrus stopped her. Her gaze darted about, but if any of the men took notice of her filing off, they did not acknowledge it.
Aurora relaxed.
She was still sensitive to Cyrus showing her any favor because she was a woman, but even more so because of what had happened between them.
As the guards led the men back to their quarters, Aurora joined Cyrus in the center of the arena.
With a puzzled frown, she took in Cyrus’ lone body within the wide, empty space.
“Do the guards often leave you alone?” she asked, noting this was not the first time such a thing had happened.
“Not often, but I am allowed more freedom than most. My position comes with such privileges.”
“And which one is that? Your position as doctoris, champion of Capena, or as Claudius’ personal guard?”
Cyrus’ eyebrows reached skyward until his astonishment waned, and he grinned good-naturedly.
“You are quite astute,” he replied, but she noticed he did not answer her question.
“I noticed he gave his back to you yestereve, something a dominus only does with a slave, a gladiator slave at that, when he trusts him implicitly. That you stood to his right, told me you held the honored position of one of his personal guards.” Aurora probed, determined this would be the last time. She did not wish for Cyrus to grow suspicious if she asked too many questions, but she did want to know how loyal Cyrus was to Claudius.
“It is a recent position,” Cyrus confided. “One that I am told shall be temporary.”
His eyes became hooded, something she recognized he did when a matter for discussion had come to an end.
She nodded. From what he’d revealed, she understood Cyrus had recently been appointed to the position of personal guard because Claudius believed himself in danger. She did not quite glean what he’d meant by temporary, however. Because of the measure of trust involved between a guardian and his charge, a personal guard was rarely a temporary position, so she wondered why Cyrus would cease to serve his dominus as his guard.
Aurora focused on Cyrus, still curious, but she could not probe further without earning his suspicion, so she asked instead, “Why did you request for me to remain behind?”
She glowered at the wooden gladius he thrust toward her then back up at him, but she did not lift a finger to grasp it.
“What is that for?” she demanded.
“You know what this is for,” he said impatiently. “We should practice for our match on the morrow.”
“Practice?” One eyebrow lifted. “To what end? The guests wish to see us writhing and naked like the gladiators we are. What is there to practice?” Her lips furled into a smile. “Unless you are afraid that you might lose.”
“Lose?” He snorted. “To you? Never.”
“You had to cheat to win before.”
“I did not cheat.” His nostrils flared in what Aurora decided was a puffed up sense of importance. “You would have lost eventually.”
“Eventually?” She was incredulous. “You are arrogant. You do not wish to believe a woman can best you—”
“I said no such thing.”
“You did not have to.” She snatched the short sword from his hand and tossed it aside. “I shall not practice with you,” she fumed. “Because on the morrow I shall beat you soundly.”
She stomped away from him then, though not in the direction of Claudius’ home, but toward the bluffs.
Aurora knew a body of water lay on the other side because she’d heard the steady sound of waves crashing upon rocks as she’d trained. She gathered it was either a small lake that went nowhere, or one of the minor tributaries flowing through the town that eventually joined the Tiber.
Either way, she wanted a closer look, and this was as good a moment as any to take one. She was alone with Cyrus, without any of the guards present. When the time came to complete her mission, she would need a means of escape. If this river flowed into the Tiber, it could provide such a route.
Cyrus caught up to her by the time she made it to the edge of the cliffs overlooking the waterway. To her delight, she discovered the currents flowed westward, moving with the wind. It was not a lake, it flowed somewhere, into something, but to get to it would be difficult. The bluff was several body lengths high—springing from such a height to the tributary below would only end in her death upon the jagged rocks jutting forth.
“Do not tell me I have you so upset that you would hurl yourself to your death?”
Aurora met Cyrus’ gaze, which twinkled with laughter. “That would please you I’m sure, knowing you would be spared the humiliation of defeat.”
She smiled when he feigned indignation before she returned her attention to the flowing waves beneath her. “I kept hearing water as I trained. I simply wanted a closer look. This is a river, is it not? Do you know where it leads?”
Cyrus’ expression became guarded, and with his hand against her elbow, gentle yet firm, he led her away.
“Many others have thought the same as you, and they have all met with their deaths.
“I was not—”
“Trying to plot your escape?” Cyrus grunted. “That is good because if the rocks did not claim you, the two guards posted at either end of the beach below would see to it. It is a foolish plan. You would be wiser to simply ride out on horseback through the main gates.”
Aurora considered that, but Cyrus, as shrewd as he was, easily guessed the direction of her thoughts.
“I was not serious, Aurora.”
“I know, but I cannot help but think—”
Cyrus stopped abruptly, his fingers digging into her arm. “Aurora,” he warned.
She ignored him. “Answer me truthfully. Has anyone ever successfully escaped from Claudius?”
In his eyes, she glimpsed the loyalty he wished to maintain toward his master, for Cyrus was a man of honor. And yet, she did not mistake the longing to have his freedom.
“
I have only known of one,” he said finally. “It was before I came here.”
“How did he escape?”
Cyrus’ lips twisted into a wry smile. “The rumors suggest in the same manner that you now plot, but the details have escaped my notice. I believe there is a reason for that. Claudius would never allow such knowledge to spread among his slaves, or he would find himself without any.”
Aurora noticed the guards had returned from escorting the gladiators to their quarters and now took up their positions along the outskirts of the arena.
Cyrus marched her in their direction.
“If you will not practice then you should return to your quarters.”
Aurora dug in her heels, forcing Cyrus to stop. “And what will you do?”
Cyrus, who’d been displeased with her just moments before, seemed to relax once again, and the small smile that spread across his face was lighthearted and easygoing.
“I shall practice, of course. It is your decision that you wish to lose.”
“Lose?” She tugged her arm from his grasp, as her eyes flashed with a mixture of defiance and laughter. “Have you ever fought a nude woman?”
His gaze narrowed, but he answered her with the shake of his head.
“Well, practice all you must, but it will make little difference when I am naked and pressed against your body.” Her lips curved into a seductive smile and his nostrils flared in response, his eyes darkening until they were a rich indigo. “I doubt you will even remember how to hold your sword, let alone wield it.”
She did not think it possible, but the color of his eyes deepened further, with desire, with arousal.
A smirk of triumph crossed her face, and she turned to leave, but she was forced to stop, when Cyrus’ hand seized her hip.
To the guards, to anyone gazing upon them, he stood at her back, looking over her shoulder. Only she knew that his touch scalded her skin, his breath ruffled her hair, the heat of his body crossed the small space between them to inflame every part of her.
“Taunt me all you wish, Aurora. But I know well how to hold my sword. I know better still how to wield it.”
Her eyes snapped to his face as he released her hip, and gently nudged her forward. She could do nothing else but leave the arena. As she did, she felt her cheeks burning hot and no longer could she ignore the rush of feminine awareness filling the space between her thighs, reminding her of long denied passions and unfulfilled desires with every step she took.
* * * *
Aurora was led into Senator Balbus Vibius’ villa with Claudius and Cornelia before her and Cyrus by her side. It was unsightly to enter the home of a guest with one’s slaves in chains because it suggested such a master had no control over his property, that he commanded no respect, so two guards trailed behind them, which was something Aurora could not understand. If they were to forego the chains, should they not do the same with the guards? Wasn’t the message the same? That instead of lacking control over his slaves, a master who needed guards must fear them?
A young slave woman greeted their party at the entrance to the senator’s home and ushered them into the triclinieum where drummers entertained the guests. Draped in the finest garments, Capena’s nobility crowded inside the dining hall, enjoying Senator Vibius’ hospitality.
Aurora had never met Balbus Vibius, so she did not recognize him among the throng of people, but when she spotted an elegantly attired older man weaving a path through the crowd in their direction, she concluded he was their host.
He was taller than most, his shoulders broad, his frame solid. His head remained full of hair that had long since faded white. The senator was a handsome man, with classic, noble features, who possessed the distinguished air of men blessed with fit bodies that aged gracefully.
“Welcome, Governor Norbanus,” Balbus said as he halted before them. “Cornelia,” he greeted.
For once Cornelia appeared restrained as she returned the greeting, while Claudius replied, “Thank you, Senator Vibius for welcoming us into your home. I am pleased that you have returned to Capena.”
No sooner had they exchanged greetings did Balbus Vibius’ gaze flutter over the top of Claudius’ head to land upon Aurora.
“And this must be the gladiatrix I have heard so much about.” He appraised her slowly as one would horseflesh they were soon to acquire. Aurora remained rigid beneath the weight of his scrutiny, revealing neither her annoyance nor her discomfort.
“When shall we see her within the arena?” Balbus demanded, his perusal at an end.
“Soon, my friend.” Claudius’ weathered face crinkled with a smile. “Soon I will unveil her, but for such a dear and respected friend, I have arranged for a special display this eve.”
Balbus nodded appreciatively, his eyes twinkling as a grin curled his lips. “I am honored by such a tribute. I wait in anticipation of what you have planned.”
The two men continued to exchange what Aurora decided was perfunctory flattery until Balbus was called away. Soon after, Claudius and Cornelia joined the other guests, the guards remaining with them, while she and Cyrus were joined by a slave girl who led them out of the dining hall and through an arched vestibule. The young slave gestured for Cyrus to enter a room off to the left, while Aurora was ushered into the room across from his.
Two female servants with kind eyes greeted her as soon as she entered the chambers.
“We have been instructed to prepare you,” said one of them, to whom Aurora nodded.
She did not relish the notion of battling Cyrus naked before seemingly hundreds of lascivious gazes, but it was not within her power to refuse. So when the other women instructed her to remove her clothing, Aurora peeled off her tunica to stand nude before them.
Although, she’d bathed before leaving Claudius’ home, she was bathed again, and when she was dry, her body was coated in scented oil that smelled of lavender and myrrh. She was prepared as if she was not about to be covered in sweat soon, as if she was not about to fight. Her hair was neatly bound into a single braid, her skin powdered with perfume and gold dust. They tried to put gold adornments upon her, but she refused by saying, “I cannot fight with such things.”
They protested vehemently, but she was adamant, and the girls both left with a frown upon their faces when they were finished.
Such foolishness. Gold and perfume. She snorted. And oil upon her body? She would be fortunate if she did not slip upon the tiles and injure herself.
Such frivolities for what was not even a real match was ludicrous. Claudius had informed them that this was to be solely for exhibition purposes. They could draw blood if they wished, but only the most shallow of wounds upon the shoulder or the arm. They’d been warned accordingly—if either of them were seriously injured, the offending party would be punished harshly. She and Cyrus were expensive property, Claudius could not afford for them to sustain any undue damage.
Aurora looked up when the young woman who’d led her into the chambers returned.
“It is time.”
A curious fluttering started within her belly, until every part of her trembled with mostly anticipation, but also a measure of trepidation. She’d fought nude once before in a spectacle such as this, but her opponent had been another gladiatrix.
She’d taunted Cyrus yestereve, but she wondered if she would manage to keep her head about her throughout their match. She worried she would not be able to focus with him before her, his body as oiled as hers, the corded display of his muscles flexing and bunching beneath burnished golden skin. A shudder raced through her, one part anticipation, other parts desire as she imagined the perfection of his chiseled form pressed against hers, locked in battle.
She stepped into the hall, expecting to find Cyrus waiting there as well, but the hall was empty. She could not see into the room where he’d disappeared earlier, but the absence of sound told her it was vacant as well.
The girl led her through another corridor, but not the one she’d passed through before.
“Wait here,” the young woman said when they came to a stop within the atrium. “I will see if they are now ready for you.”
Aurora did not say a word as the girl vanished. It seemed like forever before she returned, and Aurora glanced up, already moving forward, ready for this entire gratuitous display to be over. However, Aurora did not manage a step when a shadow passed over her, and she realized it was not that of the young slave.
Aurora was hidden within one corner of the atrium, obscured from plain view, the light from the lamps dancing all around her but never touching her. She could see into the space, but none could see her, just as none could hear her for she kept her breathing faint. Thus, Cornelia easily passed by without taking notice of the figure within the corner.
Aurora thought it odd that Cornelia would miss the grand spectacle her husband had planned and wondered what could possibly be of such importance to take her away from the festivities.
Acting on instinct, she followed after Cornelia. It was relatively easy. On bare feet, her footsteps were silent. The complexion of her skin, darkened by the oil, allowed her to cloak herself within the shadows. And whatever made Cornelia take every corner with purpose, her steps hurried, kept Claudius’ wife so enthralled she did not seem to notice she was being followed.
It was as if the woman were searching for something. When she came to an abrupt halt before a large fountain within the arched colonnade, Aurora realized Cornelia had found it.
Balbus towered over Cornelia before he leaned in to embrace her, his lips finding those of Claudius’ wife.
Affairs were common among the nobility, so that Cornelia had found herself in another’s bed neither shocked nor surprised Aurora. What did, however, was that Cornelia would exhibit such intense jealousies regarding her husband, when it was obvious—if the passionate kiss she’d shared with Balbus was any evidence—that her attentions were otherwise occupied.
When the couple finally pulled apart and began quietly speaking amongst themselves, Aurora prepared to leave. She did not wish the slave girl to go in search of her.
