by Lydia Pax
Publius cleared his throat, and all quieted.
“Hello, gladiators.” He eyed the women for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to actually greet them. “Gladiatrices.” He turned from the women then, giving them no more mind. “I apologize for the delay in my swift arrival. Plague threatens every city in the stretch from Gaul to Puteoli, and finding safe lodging was difficult.”
The fighters all traded confused glances. The punctuality of a free citizen certainly wasn’t one of their priorities.
Publius cleared his throat and continued. “It is my understanding of these matters that you are all talented and win a great many matches for the glory and honor of this house. It is my goal to ensure that continues to happen. You will have my attention and my critical eye. All of you report to your doctores. Your doctores report to Murus. Murus reports to me. So it has worked, and so it shall ever.”
He turned then to Otho at his side.
“Senator Otho has taken a great personal interest in the affairs of this ludus. He is an honorable man from a wise and noble family. As such, I will take in his counsel over the next few days as I arrange the affairs of my sister-in-law and attend to the welfare of my surviving nephew.”
Murus leaned in to Publius for a moment, whispering something. The look Publius returned him was cold and dismissive. He clearly did not like being reminded of anything by a slave.
“The games at the end of this month approach. Senator Otho, in his upkeep of this ludus in my absence, has already forwarded our fees. With his counsel, all of you will have the matches that compliment your skills as best as possible. Until further notice, assume no alteration in the affairs of the ludus. Your training schedule, diet, supplies, and winnings will all remain as before.”
Otho stepped in front of Publius now. If Publius minded, he did not show it.
“We both are very excited to take this ludus to a place above and beyond where it was before. And some of you,” he smiled at the women, “will learn just how valuable you are.”
He walked up and down the line. His eyes were fixed on Gwenn.
Why were his eyes so fixed on Gwenn?
“And last but not least, as a Senator, I assure all of you that the murderer, or murderess, of your beloved Domina will come to justice. And no one,” he looked directly at Lucius now, “will escape the reach of justice. No matter what they have done in the past, no matter their wins or losses, no matter their position. Justice comes to us all, even the lowest of the low.”
Chapter 42
Lucius didn’t know why he was called into the estate house, but he had seven kinds of ill feeling about it.
Over the past few days, several other gladiators had been called in and questioned. Sometimes they would report talking with Publius and return none the worse for wear.
Others reported talking with legionaries from the city or Otho himself—and then there invariably would be fresh black eyes and split lips. The gladiators, used to this sort of treatment from their everyday training, did not seem very much to mind such attentions. Some seemed to respect Otho and the legionaries more.
His own agenda was to speak with Publius, who had Lucius sit down with him in the atrium. The new Dominus didn’t feel comfortable taking Porcia’s quarters and cells yet for his own until they were cleared of her possessions.
“Are you bringing items of your own, then?” Lucius asked, after hearing this explanation.
“Yes. I shall make this place mine.” Publius dragged a stool and sat down over Lucius. Propriety was important to Publius—and most important of these proprieties was to maintain the distinctions of class. “I left most of my people behind in my estate in Gaul, packing. I believe they are leaving tomorrow. It was important to arrive here quickly and put this whole mess in order. I have sent messengers warning them of the plague. I expect they will take precautions.”
A slave brought Publius some water in a plain earthen cup. Publius nodded at the slave, who then emptied out a splash of wine into the water. Just a splash, though.
Lucius fought the sudden and pressing urge to inform Publius that he was drinking wine wrong.
Instead, he said, “We appreciate your speed, Dominus.”
“Dominus.” Publius smiled and turned to one side. “Yes. I am the Dominus here, am I not? Dominus to gladiators. It was my father’s dream for me, you know. He wanted both Rufus and I to have our own ludi. It was not to be.”
“It is now, in a way.”
“I suppose so.” He sat up straight. “I am a big fan of yours, Lucius.”
“You are?”
“Of course. You were champion of this ludus for years. Why would I not be?”
Lucius shrugged. “It’s just that you always seemed rather impersonal, Dominus. I did not think you cared much for the games.”
“This ludus has many bad memories for me,” said Publius. He sniffed and gestured. “My father and I did not get along, and our relationship ended poorly before he died. We were never able to quite patch things right. I cast all my hopes toward Juno that the same might not happen with Rufus, and from her good graces, we surely did end well. But,” he shrugged. “The edge there is that it ended too soon. Rufus had a good many years ahead of him. It’s a shame he had to go as young as he did.”
“Yes, Dominus. He was a good man.”
Lucius did not think Rufus had been an especially good man, but he hadn’t been an especially bad one either, so the untruth came out easily on his tongue.
He leaned forward. “Tell me something, Lucius. And tell me truthfully—what was the state of affairs between yourself and my sister-in-law?”
“We were never quite able to patch things right, as the saying goes.”
He had hoped that being vague was enough. But Publius was not a dimwit. Lucius didn’t know if that was for his ill or gain.
“And what needed patching between a domina and her slave, I wonder?”
“She and I…” Lucius shifted slightly. “I do not wish to speak ill of the dead.”
“Then do not lie.” His face became stern and flushed. “I will not tolerate a liar in my house, Lucius. And neither will the ghosts of my family. Speak the truth.”
Lucius wiped a hand across one cheek. “All right. Porcia and I…we were lovers. It was her idea. She approached me first while your brother was alive. If I refused, she said that she would tell Rufus I tried to take advantage of her. I had little choice in the matter. But it was fun. For a time. After Rufus died…I told her I didn’t want to be party to our arrangement anymore.”
“And why didn’t she get rid of you then?”
“Rufus’s will. It stipulated that I stay on in the ludus, even if injured.”
“I see. Did she threaten you afterward? After you ended things?”
“Frequently, but there was little weight behind it. I knew her belief in the ghosts of this house. I never suspected her of trying anything except wanting me to be unhappy.”
“And did she have reason to suspect you of ill-deeds?”
In other words, did Publius?
“I don’t believe I ever gave her cause to do so, Dominus. Nor was any cause in my heart. I wanted…” Lucius thought about that. “It would have been better if she was happy. Better for me and anyone I cared about. If she was happy, she wouldn’t have cared one whit about me. So I wanted her to be happy. Barring that, I was happy with being ignored. I got neither.”
“What did you think of her relationship with Senator Otho?”
“If a woman wants to put a snake in her bed, it’s her own business.”
Publius rose. “Those are sharp words directed at someone far above your station, slave.”
“Yes, Dominus.” The words were automatic. “Forgive me, Dominus.”
He paced across the room for a moment, stopping at a column and resting his hand there. “But you do not like Otho?”
“I do not see anything to like, Dominus. But that does not make him any less a Senator.”
�
��The better you remember that, the better off you are.” Publius huffed and crossed his arms. He began to pace. “You might as well go. You are very convincing, Lucius. I think you should know that you are making my job very hard.”
“What job is that, Dominus?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” He waved his hand, dismissing Lucius. “See the medicae on your way down. She must examine you.”
Chapter 43
Head full of bad thoughts, Lucius retreated out from the house and down the stairs. That conversation was not mysterious so much as it was suspicious, and Lucius had an honest feeling that his entire world was about to screwed in two.
Nyx was quiet as she examined him. She lifted his arm this way and that, and asked him to move it on his own. Up, down, left, right.
She said, with a voice that was quite sad, that he surely must have been following her exercises to the letter.
“Of course,” he said. “Many strokes fell great oaks, isn’t that right? It took a while, but it’s getting there.”
But Nyx didn’t say anything back. She simply made a notation in her scrolls. Someone knocked at the door.
“I really must speak with you, Lucius.”
It was Iunius. The eunuch looked a bit harried, eyes shifting up and down the staircase outside.
“I told you before—I have nothing left to give you. I am saving my money now, Iunius.”
“A good move. But you really must—”
“Hold on.” He held up a finger. Something just occurred to him. “Why now?” he asked Nyx. “Did you ask to see my arm?”
“I did not.” Nyx shook her head. “It was the order of the Dominus.”
“And why did he ask it?”
“I don’t know that it’s all that much of a mystery, Lucius.” Nyx shook her head. “I always thought it a mistake, the Domina and you carrying on how you did.”
“But Publius doesn’t…” Lucius shook his head. “He doesn’t think that I…”
“Are you just now catching up on the game, Lucius?” Iunius chuckled. “I thought you stopped drinking?”
“Quiet, eunuch.”
Lucius shoved Iunius aside and fled from the medicae’s office and down to the cell blocks. He ignored Iunius’s calls to wait—to let him catch up.
It all seemed clear to Lucius now—the plan of Otho and Publius. This wasn’t right, what they wanted to do. It wasn’t right, and somehow he had to think his way out of this mess.
And if he couldn’t do that, somehow he had to tell Gwenn he loved her.
That was all. Was that too much to ask? Either get out of the impossible situation that would surely end in his death, or have the strongest-willed woman in the world impossibly change her mind and decide she could forgive him.
Shortly, he was back in his cell.
Stone walls and a wood-framed cot. A third of the years of his life in a place like this. He clapped out the nearest torch and it was all darkness. All despair.
All he had.
Chapter 44
The second day after Publius’s arrival, Senator Otho had the fighters and slaves all gathered, once again, beneath the steps at the base of the hilly estate. It was early morning, and the sun had started to hover over the horizon in a bright orange disk.
“In two weeks time,” he began, clearly using his best senatorial voice, “this ludus will participate in the games to honor the anniversary of the founding of the great city of Puteoli.”
Gwenn shook her head. Rome certainly did love its anniversaries.
“A great many of you shall fight. If the Gods favor you, then you shall have a great many victories, and be one step closer to attending the Wall of Turmedites. But at the same time, we have justice to attend to. It has been revealed, over the course of our investigation, that Porcia’s death was caused by a resident of this very house.”
He paused and straightened his chin. It was a twitch he had, one crack in the facade of perfection on his otherwise handsome face and sculpted body. The sudden violence of the twitch as he straightened and jutted his chin out belied a strong lack of self-control over the tiny gesture. It spoke to Gwenn of his volatility.
The senator had done his due diligence in the investigation. Everyone was questioned about what they had seen. Questions were rather pointed, though—referring frequently to the nature of the relationship between Lucius and Porcia. Ros and Kav told Gwenn all about it.
“This very house, yes.” Otho brought his fingers together. “And a gladiator, too.”
“Get it over with, Otho.”
Clamors of surprise came from the crowd. It was Lucius who spoke up, clearly not impressed with the senator’s display.
“You bite your tongue, slave.”
“Bite it for me!” Lucius walked forward. A nest of spears from Otho’s guards met him. He batted one away like it was an encroaching fly. “Everyone here knows the lies you’re going to spill. So go ahead and spill them.”
“Lies?” Otho smiled. “Is that your claim? That a senator—a member of the Imperial family—is a liar and yet some murderous gladiator, already well-accustomed to the ending of lives, is innocent of the murder of his lover? Yes, that will go over splendidly before the law.”
Lucius stood tall and proud. He was splendid, his body cut and perfect, and his face the picture of nobility. Gwenn forgot for a moment that she hated him.
“I don’t care about your law, Otho. If you’re going to kill me, you’re going to kill me. I just want you to hurry up with it.”
Otho grabbed a spear from one of his guards and held up it up to Lucius’s neck. “Do not be so quick to beg for your end, slave.”
The eyes of Lucius cast over the crowd until they fell on Gwenn. The sadness there disarmed her entirely. He was ready to die.
“One end is as good as another.”
Otho’s grin was complete. He withdrew the spear and tossed it back to the guard. “Then you won’t mind dying in the arena. A favor I give to you for an old champion.”
Gwenn’s soul perked just for a moment. If he were to fight in the arena, that meant a chance of living.
Why did she care? She wanted him dead for what he had done.
Didn’t she?
Then why was her heart beating so fast as she watched him, so defiant and proud?
“Yes,” Otho continued. “You’ll fight two on one. Ajax and Perseus from House Malleola—formerly of House Varinius—heard of your heinous crimes and quickly volunteered to put you in the ground. It was my understanding they were your friends. Now they will be your justice. I thought it apt, considering the…” he eyed Publius, “…close relationship you held with Porcia.”
Right away, Gwenn knew she had been mistaken. A man might have had a fighting chance in the arena under normal circumstances.
But Ajax and Perseus were the best in the known world when they fought as a team—undefeated as far as she knew. And Lucius had not had a fight in almost two years. The fight he was in last had ruined his shoulder. Even if he had been getting better, there was no way his skill would reach up to the task of fighting those two at once.
It was little mystery to Gwenn that she had already sentenced Lucius to his death. She just had imagined it might be immediate, forgetting Otho’s flair for the theatrical.
Ajax and Perseus would take their time with him and pick him apart, limb by limb. They would enjoy themselves. It would be brutal. It would be bloody.
And it would be her doing.
Chapter 45
“What do you think about it, Gwenn?”
Ros was talking to her. They were gathered in the cells, everyone in Sabiana’s quarters. She had the nicest of any of them.
All of her money from her winnings had been invested in decorations. Stitched pillows sat on her cot. A small arrangement of flowers was positioned next to the toilet in the corner. Over the door was a small wreath of leaves and twigs, bought in the market by Iunius and sold back to Sabiana at no doubt twice the price.
&n
bsp; But such things were worth the mark-up, Gwenn had to admit. The cell almost felt homey.
Gwenn’s mind had been worlds away, thinking of some alternate history where she might have ended up with Lucius. Perhaps they met as fellow craftsmen. He was a trader in spices and she worked all day building cups and jars to hold spices. Or perhaps he was a baker, and she was the daughter of his favorite client.
Her favorite such fantasy was imagining them both as warriors in the same tribe. At first, the other warriors didn’t want her to fight because she was a woman. Then, one day, she saved Lucius’s life, and he insisted that she fight next to them.
Together, they fought off the invasion of the evil empire and made love on a mountain of fur pelts in a tent reserved just for them. She would touch his body as much as she liked, and he and the furs could keep her warm even though it was deathly cold outside. In fact, they would have to make love as often as possible just to keep the frost from getting inside the tent…
“Gwenn?” Ros asked. “I was asking you about Lucius.”
She had drifted again. In the full week that had passed since Senator Otho’s pronouncement of Lucius’s guilt and execution, time had become bendy and swift. Nothing lasted as long as it seemed to. She was scheduled to fight a duel against another woman—a murmillo like herself—and last she heard from Iunius, the smart money was all on Artemis.
“What’s with you, Gwenn?” asked Sabiana. “You’ve lost your smile these last few weeks.”
“Since right around Porcia’s murder,” said Kav. “I’ve been keeping track. It’s been replaced with a glower.”
Gwenn ruffled slightly. “I don’t glower.”
“Yes you do,” said Kav. “You glower all day, and it only deepens when you look at Lucius.”
“Well,” she bristled. “He murdered a woman, didn’t he? A little glowering serves him right.”
“You and me and everyone with a brain knows he didn’t do it,” said Kav. “And you were glowering at him before his ‘guilt’ was announced.”
