In two days hence, the gladiators of the House of Bucco would once again travel to Rusellae for the games, and Atlas and I would set our escape into motion. I had but one task left to accomplish to make that happen, but first I needed solid assurance from Atlas that he wasn't using me to implement a solo escape. As much as I wanted to trust him, how could I? He wasn't even human, or at least not entirely so.
No. Before I could go through with such a risky proposition, I required a show of good faith from him. For that conversation to happen, Atlas had to adopt his human form. After pondering on how to effect time alone with him, I came up with a solution that would kill two birds with a single stone.
My brothers were in the communal dining area of the barrack, enjoying their evening meal. I was too preoccupied with my mission to bother with food. Upon my arrival at his table, Doctore offered me a cup of honeyed wine.
I declined by waving a hand. A clear head was necessary for me to perform the tasks ahead of me, and thus I had not touched wine in many days. "Doctore, I must speak with Messalla immediately and in private. Tell him I have an urgent request regarding my upcoming match with the lion."
Doctore went to the locked door separating the barrack from the rest of the subterranean level of the villa. He thumped the door twice with a fist.
A Roman guard's face appeared on the other side of the viewing grate. "What do you want?"
Doctore shot a glance at me before addressing the guard. "Send word to Dominus that Noctua Audax has requested a private audience on an urgent matter concerning the upcoming games."
"Very well," the guard said. He turned and struck out his right arm in salute to the other guard, who remained out of view, before again addressing Doctore. "I will return soon with a reply."
*~*~*
I had not been inside the villa since the last time Messalla had entertained out-of-town dignitaries requiring the intimate services of men. A sour taste flooded my mouth at the sight of the marble table upon which I'd been offered up on that night and on too many others like it.
Messalla came sweeping into the room in a swirl of ill-fitting toga fabric. "What is it you want, Noctua Audax? I am in the midst of interviewing wool merchants and weavers in anticipation of the windfall my house will surely receive after the next games. My wife has brought me news of possible patronage from her father, the esteemed senator."
"Luck fall upon you, Dominus." I peered over my shoulder at the Roman guard whose presence persisted, then returned my attention to Messalla. "What I have to say is meant for your ears only."
Messalla looked past me in the direction of the guard and gave a curt nod. "Leave us, but unchain him first. Shackles are unbecoming the champion of my house. Alert the company of guards that restraints are not to be used on this man again unless I so order. It will further elevate me amongst my peerage that I have indoctrinated so loyal a slave."
The guard made quick work of removing the manacles from my wrists and ankles, and he took them with him upon leaving.
I rubbed my wrists. "Gratitude, Dominus. I will be brief so you may resume your busy schedule. I understand the importance of the upcoming games against the House of Bucco. In light of your news regarding possible patronage from Senator Marcus Galerius Regillus, the stakes are even higher for you now. Suppose, for a moment, that I know of a way to increase your prestige at these games in a manner no other lanista would ever dare attempt. Would you be interested in such a proposal?"
Messalla fairly drooled at the vague notion. "What would you require in exchange?"
Raising my shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, I said, "Simply a measure of trust during preparations, Dominus. My reward will be the satisfaction of pride earned in bringing honor and glory to this house, as always."
"Tell me, Noctua Audax," Messalla said. "I long to hear. If your request is within my power to grant, it will be yours for the asking."
I smiled. "Never before has a bestiarius faced an unchained lion in any arena."
Messalla's beady eyes nearly popped out of his sallow head. "You are mad."
Again, I shrugged. "I will not argue the obvious with you, Dominus. Take a moment to reflect before you decide. Think of how cowardly Bucco's bestiarius will seem to the crowd by comparison, and how cunning you will be perceived by all men who matter. After I slay the unchained lion, no one will doubt that Decimus Fabius Messalla is highly skilled in matters of risk versus reward. Such men are valued by Roman businessmen—and by Roman politicians."
"Your keen mind is wasted on the bloody sands of the arena, Noctua Audax," Messalla said without hesitation. "Consider it done. Tell me what you need from me."
15 September, 117
The usual ten-hour trek overland from the ludus to the Amphitheater at Rusellae took less than nine. With only two wagons in our convoy—one transporting Atlas, the other transporting me—we maintained a constant speed without having to stop multiple times for nature calls. Atlas behaved himself during unloading into his cell in our residents' barrack, further expediting the trip. The eight guards assigned to the journey were presently ensconced in the military barrack a quarter of the way around the arena, under strict orders from Messalla not to disturb my alleged observation time with my leonine opponent.
"It's safe for you to transform now," I said to Atlas, now that we were alone. "We have much to discuss."
Atlas's metamorphosis appeared more fluid this time, flawless and magnificent. His full lips curved up into a sly smile. "I am impressed with your resourcefulness, Mouse, but it begs a question. Our plan is already in place, so why the sudden need for privacy?"
I held a clean subligaria out to him at arm's length for covering his privates. "It seems more civilized to discuss matters of human importance while clothed, at least partially. I brought this for you."
He smacked my hand away. "Answer my question, Mouse. If you have something to say to me, say it now."
"Apologies, Atlas." I tossed the extra subligaria onto the nearest mattress in the dormitory-style barrack. "I find myself having reservations regarding our arrangement, and for me to state that I trust you implicitly would be disingenuous. I need you to offer me tangible assurance that you aren't planning to sacrifice me to enable your lone escape."
Atlas laughed softly. "It is the reliance of humans on words above deeds that makes it so difficult for your kind to determine if a person is good or evil. My race relies solely on deeds, and perhaps that's why we tend to adopt our human guises so infrequently. May I ask you a personal question, Mouse?"
"Yes," I said. "I swear to answer truthfully."
"I believe you." Atlas came closer, keeping his eyes fixed on mine. "Surreptitious as you may have thought your actions, the attention you paid to my body when I first shifted to my human form did not go unnoticed. I suspect your offering of an undergarment to me moments ago was more for your own comfort than for mine. Am I correct in assuming your preference of men as sexual companions?"
Blood surged toward my groin at the mention of my attraction to him. I swallowed hard past the nervous lump forming in my throat. "Yes, I prefer to bed men, and I do find your present visage most appealing."
"Then your issue of trust is all but solved." Atlas came closer still, near enough to place the palm of one hand against the stubble of beard on my cheek. "I feel drawn to you also. Amongst my kind, mating forms a bond of trust so resilient that only death can sever it. If we are mated, I am bound to protect you even at the expense of my own life."
Atlas then kissed my lips so sweetly that the finest honeyed wine would forever taste bitter by comparison.
My heart felt near to bursting. "Naevius once asked me why I had never chosen to couple with any of the fine men at the ludus whose persuasion ran compatible with mine. I told him I felt it pointless, even cruel, to give my heart away to another with the certainty that one or both of us could perish at any moment." I ran a hand around the back of Atlas's neck and gripped him tight. "Now, I'm not so sure."
"
Become my mate," Atlas said. "Then you will watch me die before I allow any harm to befall you. There is no greater love than laying down one's life for another, Mouse, nor is there any greater reason than love to continue in this earthly existence. Without love, we are not living—we are merely breathing."
I believed him with all my heart, and I gave my body to him then and there, with Atlas as the dominant aggressor and me the willing supplicant. It was rough, loud, and messy, as sex between warriors should be, and over with so quickly that any future bragging would require embellishment to avoid others mocking us for our mutual lack of stamina.
Sore from penetration and contentedly sated, I lay beside him and stared up at the wooden beams of the barrack ceiling. "I think your proof of trust lies not in the regaling of your people's bonding dogma, but in the sheer fact that you could have killed me just now. With only eight guards present in this vast facility, all of whom are under orders to leave us alone, you could have effortlessly stolen away to freedom on your own. Why didn't you seize the opportunity?"
Atlas turned onto his side to face me, perspiration forming an otherworldly shimmer on his brown skin. "That which is dogma to one is truth to another. We are bonded mates now—that is my truth. I could easily steal us both away from here, right now, without much effort. But I am not so selfish a being, and neither are you. Messalla must die to atone for his manifold and wicked sins, and you must free your brothers. Anything less would despoil the taste of your own freedom, and I don't relish spending the rest of my days with a morose, guilt-ridden Mouse." His serious demeanor gave way to an impish smile. "There is also the matter of Messalla's wife. She is counting on you to free her from a different sort of enslavement, made clear in the conversation between the two of you to which I was privy on my first night at the ludus. As your romantic leanings don't favor the fairer sex, I am curious in regard to the context of your relationship with her."
I propped up on my elbows on the lumpy, straw-filled mattress. "Galeria Regilla demonstrated kindness toward me from the first day of her marriage to Messalla three years ago. She was but a girl, sweet and untried, and she ran out onto the balcony overlooking the training yard on the night of her wedding. Sleep had eluded me that evening, as is typical, so I went outside to exercise in hopes of physically exhausting myself into slumber. I had already made nine circuits of the yard carrying a heavy log across my shoulders when she emerged, crying. I looked up at her and we made eye contact, which resulted in her sobbing harder. She seemed so scared, so fragile and broken. Despite my better judgment, I threw down my weighty burden and climbed up the trellis to comfort her. Gods, the things Messalla made that poor child do."
"The inhumanity of man never fails to sadden me, but it never surprises." Atlas ran a hand down my chest to my hip and pulled me closer to him for another sweet kiss. "I will make certain that Messalla pays for his crimes, and I promise to protect Galeria Regilla as I protect you. Now, I must shift back to my leonine form, and we both must rest. Tomorrow will be difficult, but not impossible. If all goes well, I will meet you in the appointed place. Sleep now, Mouse, and dream of a happier future."
16 September, 117
A standing-room-only throng filling the stands inside the Amphitheater at Rusellae was on its feet, cheering appreciation for the upcoming spectacle. Support stones in the stadium visibly trembled from the commotion, and the ground shook hard enough to shift the sands upon which I stood in the grand arena.
The opening cavalcade and the gladiatorial matches of the primus had concluded. By virtue of protocol, my bout against our vicious Barbary lion was to take place prior to the meeting of the House of Bucco's bestiarius, Volcacius the Lion-Slayer, and his lion quarry.
Messalla went to the edge of the pulvinus box and spread his arms out over the wall to acknowledge the adulating crowd. "Today, the noble citizens of Rusellae will bear witness to true greatness, bravery of a magnitude that has never before been exhibited in the arenas of the Roman Empire. Behold your proud champion, Noctua Audax, in mortal combat with Atlas the Unchained!"
Sweat poured off my body in the heat of the late-summer sun. The platform rose up from the center of the arena with Atlas sitting back on his haunches, surveying the landscape. In accordance with our script, I raised my sword high overhead and charged him with a blood-curdling battle cry.
Atlas pivoted and leapt down onto the sand, his posterior raised with his chest low to the ground, menacing. I circled to his left and he followed, and then I swung around to his right. He attacked by pouncing upon me, and I sliced his left flank with the edge of my sword, the cut intentionally shallow and superficial amidst all that thick fur.
After Atlas retreated, I kicked up from my back onto my feet in a cloud of dust, drawing a raucous uproar from the crowd. Dramatically slicing the air from side to side with my blade, I forced Atlas closer and closer to the base of the wall below the pulvinus box, where Messalla was leaning over the edge of the balcony with his fists raised in glee.
Atlas leapt up to the box in a single, graceful bound, and the rest transpired in a dreamlike blur. My noble lion first tore out Messalla's throat with those powerful fangs, and then he attacked Messalla's guests. Unspeakable carnage wrought by claw and teeth on the unquestionably deserving ended with the innards of Senator Marcus Galerius Regillus tumbling over the wall and onto the sand.
The people of Rusellae scattered out of the amphitheater like rats fleeing a sinking ship, leaving me unnoticed to free my brothers.
17 September, 117
The sun rising on the eastern edge of the Tyrrhenian Sea the next morning was indeed a welcome sight, but our plans had only progressed us through our escape from Rusellae to a waiting ship docked in the harbor. There were twenty-seven souls aboard the boat: fifteen gladiators and ten house slaves from Messalla's villa, the senator's daughter, and Atlas.
While the men rowed and the women kept lookout, I joined Atlas as he stared toward the horizon on the prow of our southbound ship.
I lightly bumped my shoulder against his. "Where do we go now?"
"A proper question." Atlas crossed his strong arms over his broad chest. "Africa, perhaps, but well south of the Proconsularis boundaries. The less hospitable the terrain and weather, the less likely the Romans are to follow. What of your Sarmatia?"
"My homeland is to the northeast of Rome and lies too far inland for discreet travel," I said. "The land is beautiful and the forests lush, but winters are cold and harsh. There is also the issue that men lying with men is not as acceptable a practice in Sarmatia as it is within the borders of the Roman Empire or, apparently, amongst your kind. We must consider that factor in determining our destination requirements."
"Indeed." Atlas exhaled a weary breath. "Had I known it would cause such difficulty, I would have resigned myself to the fate of consorting with women despite the demands of my heart and cock to the contrary." He cast a sideways glance at me and smiled. "Only you, Mouse, have proven worthy of the trouble."
"Pardon the intrusion," said a soft female voice coming from behind us.
I turned, along with Atlas, to see Galeria Regillus standing on the deck. Blood spattered from the men slaughtered by Atlas in the pulvinus box had dried into ruddy brown spots on her clothes.
"Head west after we pass the southern tip of Sardiniam," Galeria said. "I've made arrangements in my father's name for this ship to pass unhindered through the Strait of Gibraltar, on the pretext of a diplomatic mission to the west coast of Lusitania. Once through the Strait, we will instead venture south along the western coastline of the vast African continent. By the time the Lusitanian proconsul receives word of my father's death, we will be so far out of reach it will be imprudent and impractical for him to give chase."
Galeria closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath of the briny air. "The small islands off the Saharan coast are quite pleasant this time of year, and free of Roman influence. My contacts in the region assure me that the native peoples there will ext
end us sanctuary until we can make permanent arrangements elsewhere. We carry ample spoils of the Empire—gold, grain, and silk from the East—for purchase of lodging and transportation."
Atlas laughed, a vocalization of his to which I could become pleasantly accustomed. "You are indeed wise beyond your years, Domina. Noctua Audax was correct in saying so."
She shook her head, and a spill of naturally blond hair fell about her shoulders instead of the garish red wig of woven braids that Messalla had insisted she wear. "Do not refer to me by that title henceforth. My name is Galeria and, like you, I am now free of my Roman masters."
"To Gibraltar we go, then." Atlas went to the top of the stairs and gazed down at the rowers in the belly of the ship. "Take heart, brothers of Noctua Audax. Your freedom is at hand. On my next command, you will turn this vessel due west."
With everyone onboard set to task, I rejoined Atlas on the prow of the ship.
"Êrakas," I said to him quietly.
Atlas's brow creased in question. "Apologies?"
"Êrakas," I said again. "My Sarmatian name is Êrakas."
Atlas's deep laugh resonated in my ears, touching my heart in ways no other man ever had. He faced me and pushed sweaty locks of hair away from my eyes with the gentle touch of his fingers. "I know you by your scent, your gait, your sounds, and your deeds. I will call you by your given name, if that is your wish, but you will always be my Mouse."
I smiled. "And you will always be my Lion."
The Fox Bride
Lotus Oakes
In a small village at the foot of a mountain, there lived a pair of siblings.
The elder brother was named Xiao Dan, and the younger sister was named Qiu Yue, and five years separated them. They had lived alone together for many years: their father had passed away of illness when Qiu Yue had been a child, and their mother had followed of the same when Xiao Dan became an adult. It was whispered that she had only held on that long so she could be assured of the safety of her children: the body that had been prepared and wrapped for burial had been little more than thin skin stretched over brittle bones.
Fairytales Slashed: Volume 8 Page 6
