Gladiatrix (16 page)

I followed Horace meekly out of the atrium and down a corridor off to the right. I refocused on the interview with Domitia and tried to put what I'd just heard aside, as interesting as it was. Right now, I had to convince her I had the right stuff to play Cleopatra in Augustus' little public relations exercise.

And God knows what that meant. Selling myself had never been one of my skills.

Horace led me into the large room at the end of the corridor, the luxurious version of an ancient home office. Two walls were lined with shelves holding scrolls and a large metal strongbox was bolted to the floor in the back corner. On the other walls paintings of the Crassus ancestors crowded every spare inch.

I knew who they were because they all had the same big hooked nose, just like the richly dressed woman holding court in the centre of the room.

Domitia Crassus sat in an ornate chair behind a gold-topped desk. She merely glanced my way when Horace announced me, and continued dictating to her
two male secretaries. She kept me standing there, so I spent the time studying her.

She was small and thin, and it was difficult to tell her age because every inch of exposed skin was thickly coated with a white paste. The extreme whiteness made her dark eyes stand out like two deep holes dug in snowy ground, and she'd further highlighted her features with black kohl and crimson paint on her lips and cheeks. The overall impression was of a very bad oil painting, maybe something by Munch. Her head was covered with an elaborately curled and plaited bright red wig, held in place with blue ribbons and a carnelian comb.

After a while I decided to ignore what she had done to her head, and look at the rest. Judging by the sheen of the fine materials and their vivid colours, her clothes must be worth a small fortune. She was wearing a royal blue, pleated tunic decorated at the hem with dark green embroidery and held in place at the shoulders with fine gold brooches. Her under-tunic, which showed through at the shoulders, sleeves and neck, was a brilliant yellow. A thin, woven belt the same colour as the under-tunic drew the material of her top tunic around her waist and into an empire line up under her breasts. Precious stones gleamed on her fingers and gold bracelets covered her wrists.

By the time I had reached her sandals Domitia had stopped dictating and was watching me look at her. Obviously she wasn't used to the scrutiny, and she now sat back in her chair wearing an offended frown.

‘Get rid of the cloak.' She fired each word like a bullet.

I dropped the hood back onto my shoulders, and then let the whole lot fall to the floor. She responded by jerking her head towards the door.

I stood still, uncertain as to whether she meant me. Had this been the world's shortest interview? Instead the two male secretaries jumped to their feet and sprinted out of the room, still carrying their pens. She didn't even watch them leave. She was used to being obeyed instantly.

‘So you're the gladiatrix?' Domitia rose, the better to inspect me. She stroked my right shoulder, then ran her fingers down the curve of my bicep. ‘Smooth and firm. Nice combination.'

The tone of her voice together with the stroking movement, made my skin crawl. She was petting me like an animal she'd just bought.

The snake bracelets seemed to fascinate her. She tapped one of the snakeheads, then looked up into my face. Her thin lips extended into what I was guessing was a smile. Whatever it was, it'd forced ugly little ridges into her white make-up. She walked back to the desk, sat down with hands clasped in front of her and prepared to deliver her judgement.

‘You're younger than I expected, but I'm certainly not disappointed. If you can manage to fight as well as you look, we will all do well out of this.' Her voice sharpened, ‘But if you can't fight at all you're of no use to me.'

‘I can fight … my lady.' I wasn't sure that was the right form of address to use, whether I was being too servile, or not enough. But she didn't seem to react, so I continued. ‘Let me demonstrate that for you tomorrow?'

She didn't bother to reply, just rang her desk bell twice. Before the echo had stopped, a blond, blue-eyed slave of medium height appeared in the doorway. He was pretty rather than handsome and wearing a very short, slave-blue tunic. Every square inch of his finely
muscled body had been stripped of hair and rubbed over with oil. He gleamed. He looked to Domitia for instruction, but not before a quick glance at me. From his expression the costume must be a success.

Domitia was displeased with his reaction, but beckoned him further into the room. He came up to the desk and stood right behind her chair, her head level with his groin. She turned slightly and stroked his lower stomach. He gave me a smugly satisfied look.

So he was that kind of slave.

She pulled his head down for a full-throated kiss. It looked more like an exercise in resuscitation than a sign of affection.

Domitia stopped pawing him and looked over at me. ‘Well, Narcissus, my pet, what do you think? Does she look like Cleopatra?'

His answer was to move from behind the desk and circle me slowly. I kept an eye on him.

Narcissus inspected my shoulders and chest with a little too much enthusiasm then moved to my back. Fortunately, that didn't take as long. It must've been something about my expression as I watched him, or perhaps was the growling noise I made.

Domitia gave a low chuckle. ‘Careful. She's bigger than you.'

Good. She either didn't care if Narcissus lost his dignity or took my attitude as a good indication of my worth to her in the arena. If she liked a hint of danger, fine — that could be arranged. I needed that contract, and if she wasn't already convinced by my costume, then maybe a little action might do the job.

Her comment had spurred Narcissus into making a mistake, because he took it as a challenge and moved back in for some touching. Behind him his mistress was furious. Here was an opportunity to impress her
so I grabbed his extended wrist and, taking a step backwards, used my weight to boost him flying across the room.

He hit the wall with a thunk.

I'd managed to avoid landing him on anything valuable, but a bust of some past Crassus relative was shaken loose from its overhead pedestal and fell over, just missing him. He sat there dazed.

Domitia sat very still, stunned that anyone would dare to do that in her office. Then she started laughing. Or screeching might be a better description.

That had to be a good sign.

The crashing noise had attracted Horace, who skidded to a halt in the doorway. Domitia gave Narcissus a hard look, which promised retribution, and dismissed them both.

‘So you can fight after all,' she said. ‘I'm impressed. You'll get the tryout tomorrow, but don't destroy any more of my furniture in the meantime.'

‘Of course, my lady.'

Steps echoed in the corridor again, and a well-groomed man strolled in unannounced. He was of medium build with thinning, short brownish hair and light brown eyes. He greeted Domitia, who merely waved her acknowledgement, then he turned to me saying, ‘Ah, she is here.'

He made no attempt to introduce himself, just treated me like a thing he had come to inspect. He gave me a good look over, back and front, then sat on Domitia's desk, which made her frown again. Big ridges were building up on her forehead from all the wrinkling.

‘Gaius Aquilla,' said Domitia, addressing me, ‘will witness your demonstration match tomorrow.' She spoke in the voice you'd use to train a dog. ‘Make sure
you do well. I will not be pleased if you've wasted our time.' Make that a particularly stupid dog.

So Gaius was the one to impress? Well, who was he? He seemed to have the run of the house and he was dressed in a white tunic with two narrow purple stripes running from shoulder to hem. On top he wore his toga, again designated with thin purple stripes. From memory, that marked him as a Roman knight, which meant his family had enough wealth to be in the power game, but not enough political connections to make it to the top. He must be trying to rectify that situation by helping Domitia with her little schemes.

Disregarding me completely, he said to Domitia, ‘The name Bellona definitely suits her, though it's not as exotic as I would have liked.'

‘But the crowds will like it, Gaius. Bellona — the Roman goddess of war. It sounds appropriate.' Domitia turned to me again, issuing instructions. ‘If you're successful tomorrow then Gaius will mark this contract on the spot.' She handed him a scroll. He checked it then slipped it into a fold in his toga. ‘You've demanded to be initiated as the price of your contract, and the initiation can only take place on a certain day of the sacred calendar.' She didn't look pleased by that thought. ‘As you know very well, it is the day before the re-enactment of Actium.'

I nodded as meekly as possible. ‘Yes, my lady.' Victoria had found the ideal way to be initiated, and yet get out of the fight she owed Domitia. She'd just leave straight after the ceremony and transpond home.

Domitia looked at me suspiciously. ‘If you are successful tomorrow you will immediately take the oath of obedience to me. Remember, if you break that oath, if you do not perform as you have promised, gladiatrix, then you will be tracked down and
crucified.' She relished making the threat. ‘Augustus takes such things very seriously, and makes sure that the rules are enforced to the final nail. Understood?'

I tried to look sincere as I bowed my head in submission. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was getting me near that arena. I'd risk the portal first.

‘Have you told her about Plautius yet?' Gaius looked pointedly at Domitia.

‘You explain,' she said in a huff. ‘It's your plan.'

Gaius assumed the stern expression of a master about to caution an unruly slave. ‘Plautius Sulla,' he said, ‘is in charge of all the games. All the public spectacles, sponsored by Augustus. So he will be making the final decision about who plays the part of Cleopatra. As other people,' he said, with disgust at their impudence, ‘are also offering Augustus their female fighters, he's keeping his options open. So,' he patted the place where he'd tucked the scroll Domitia had handed him. ‘We've modified the contract.'

What! ‘What do you mean, modified the contract?' I tacked on a belated, ‘Sir.' I had no idea at all what to call him.

They shared the kind of glance I imagine crocodiles use when exchanging hunting tips on the riverbank, prior to scrounging up breakfast.

‘You tell her,' said Domitia with a hunched shoulder, as though it was all Gaius' fault. And as if a minute earlier, she hadn't been talking about crucifying me if I didn't live up to my contractual obligations.

‘If we take up your contract tomorrow,' said Gaius, bored with having to instruct the help, ‘but Plautius doesn't choose you for the role of Cleopatra, then you will be compensated for your time in money.' He paused to make sure I understood, ‘But there will be no initiation.'

This was getting more complicated every minute. ‘Sir,' I struggled for humble assertiveness, ‘that's not what was agreed to. That's not the contract Valerius negotiated for me.' The conniving bastards! If I didn't get the initiation, then all of this was totally pointless!

‘That's what's in this contract,' he snapped, deeply offended that I wasn't thrilled to be of service to them just for the sheer joy of it. ‘Once other people found out what Domitia was planning, they started turning Rome upside down looking for a replacement gladiatrix. So Augustus is now happy to have a few potential replacements handy. If you don't fight in the spectacle, you don't get the initiation!' He'd shouted the last sentence straight into my face, master telling slave.

My attempt at any sort of polite mask melted under the wave of anger that came bubbling up. Steam was probably starting to leak out of the top of my head. I glared back at him, his nose only inches away from mine.

‘Bellona,' said Domitia, in a suspiciously conciliating voice. She could see I was on the verge of dropping the deal altogether. And that didn't suit her. ‘As long as you make the right impression tomorrow, you'll get the contract with me. Don't worry about the rest, Gaius and I have made plans to ensure that Plautius will choose you.'

Struggling to make my face neutral, and repressing the impulse to shout the question, I asked, ‘Just what kind of plans are we talking about here?' I paused. ‘My lady.' I was wrong, they weren't crocodiles. Reptiles were too open. This pair was more like a pair of funnel-web spiders.

Back to being bored with me, Gaius replied with a sneer. ‘As you know, the role you'll play in the games is
that of Cleopatra. We will make you seem like the only person who could possibly play her. You must become so famous that the Roman people themselves will demand that you play that part.'

‘Famous?' ‘In what way?'

Gaius warmed to the topic. ‘The gladiatrix chosen to play her must not only be a reasonable fighter but outrageous as well.' He leered at me, ‘Cleopatra was the greatest seductress in history.'

I had a very nasty feeling I knew where this was headed. Me — on my back. It was not going to happen.

Unconcerned at my lack of enthusiasm, he continued, ‘And that is what you must also appear to be — in order to take her place.'

I asked, ‘Once again — what exactly are you planning?'

Unlike Gaius, Domitia could see I was not taking this news as compliantly as I should. With a sharp edge to her words, she snapped, ‘My chosen gladiatrix will give a public performance in a play. Here. In two nights' time. Plautius Sulla will attend.'

A play?

‘We'll make sure that your reputation spreads throughout Rome,' said Gaius. ‘That Rome demands you play Cleopatra.'

Wonderful, now I was supposed to become part of an ancient public relations campaign. ‘But what about …'