Gladiatrix (23 page)

While Lucius wiped the blood off his sword, I beckoned to Alexander. He moved forward with my leather and metal breastplate and sword. I just gave him my cloak and shoulder bag and waved him away. He was stunned.

I was depending on the others feeling that way too.

Then he whispered, ‘His left knee is weak. Kick that out and he won't get up again.'

‘Thanks.' I had other ideas in mind.

Alexander stood there, uneasy, but uncertain what else to say.

Bending to recheck the laces on my boots I considered my strategy.

The barehanded techniques specifically designed to counter a samurai sword attack would be appropriate. Lucius' slash and bash style was different, but I'd seen enough to take the chance.

The key was to focus on his hands, and see the sword as merely their extension. As long as I kept my head I had the advantage. If I was unarmed Lucius would be even more reckless in his attack. Just lunge in and hack for all he was worth.

And that's just what I wanted. With that heavy armour he'd be slower and easier to get off-balance. As long as I was mobile I had the advantage, but if he backed me into a corner, or got me on the ground, I'd be gone. He'd just stand there and cut me to pieces.

Cerebus called out, ‘Fighters, ready.' The trainers stepped away from Lucius.

When he saw I was unarmed, Lucius snorted and threw his shield on the ground. Great. His over-confidence was already making my job easier.

Time to get him mad. I called out, ‘I don't need any armour. But this tub of lard needs every inch of metal he can carry.'

The crowd was silent for a moment, exchanging dire glances. They didn't know what to make of me. A madwoman had walked into their arena, and challenged their local bully to a fight. Unarmed.

And now I was taunting him?

‘Yes. I'm talking to you,' I shouted as I circled him. ‘You bloated baboon. No! I take that back. It's an insult to the monkeys!'

Lucius flushed, mouth open. When they all saw his reaction they started calling out their own insults.

Lucius stood there, confused. He wasn't used to being treated this way. Not by a woman. And definitely not in front of the other men. He was a bully. And I'd called his bluff.

He turned a deeper violet-red, raising his sword to swipe me down where I stood.

I had to grin. A wiser fighter would've at least waited. Let me show my fighting pattern, and hence my weaknesses. He thought I was easy pickings, and just wanted to shut me up quickly.

Good.

I dodged out of the way, calling out insults as I went. He charged after me with his sword still raised. The crowd shouted encouragement, and added some more inventive insults of their own.

I let him chase me around the sand, dodging and weaving just inches in front of the point of his blade. Close enough, so every time he thought he finally had me. But each time I whirled away, allowing his heavy sword to flash past and contribute to his growing exhaustion.

I'd last practised this dance against a samurai sword that sounded like a razor blade cutting through the air. I knew it very well.

It wasn't that long before he was stumbling in the
dirt and panting. The derisive howls of laughter from the crowd each time he missed, drove him out of his mind. And after me yet again.

Then finally he was tired enough. And I was ready.

I slowed down to elicit one last major thrust.

He plunged his sword straight towards my mid torso. Trying to skewer me like a satay stick.

I moved slightly to my left and turned side-on, to allow his blade to slide past. As it did, I caught his wrist with my left hand bringing us shoulder to shoulder.

While he was plunging forward and off-balance, I twisted his wrist and sword back towards his body, and using my grip as a fulcrum swung him up off his feet and over backwards. I pulled the sword out of his grip with my right hand, just as his head hit the ground with the whole weight of his body and armour behind it.

Instant karma.

His own energy and weight returned to him in full. No blow I could have landed would've had the same impact as that kind of drop.

Rolling him onto his stomach, I kept a tight hold on the wristlock.

When he tried to lash out at me with his metal-tipped sandals, I allowed his own momentum to pop his arm completely out of its socket.

As he started screaming I broke it across my knee.

He'd never use that arm for crippling his opponents again. Or fighting.

Just like Dimitri.

Everyone had frozen around me, unsure of what'd just happened. The ending had been too fast, and they all now seemed to be groping for the action replay button.

Good. Hopefully, that should do it.

Cerebus watched Lucius rolling on the ground with grim satisfaction, then reluctantly called for another stretcher. They bundled Lucius off.

The crowd had mixed feelings, I could hear the whispers. Yes, Lucius had been punished. But a stranger had beaten one of their own. And a woman at that.

Felix had no doubts. He walked up to me, and clasped my right forearm to his. ‘Gladiatrix, you have my friendship. Whatever favour you may need from me, I will give. Thank you.'

The crowd watched us clasp arms, wavered, then started chanting, ‘Gladiatrix! Gladiatrix! Gladiatrix!'

Gaius looked around at the men, speechless. These were Augustus' own fighters.

Time was precious. I pressed him. ‘Gaius. Do I take the oath?'

Cerebus looked over the crowd to Gaius, his face was creased in an unholy grin, ‘You're lucky to get 'er, Master. Give 'er to me instead!'

I took the gladiator's oath, then and there. With the whole Ludi as witnesses. Cerebus said the words and I repeated them.

‘I vow to serve as a true and faithful fighter under the laws of this land …'

After the first sentence Felix walked over and stood next to me. I glanced at his face. He nodded to me curtly, and then turned to Cerebus and began reciting the words with me.

Then all the retiarii moved behind us, and began shouting the oath.

Cerebus shouted the words back, and then the whole Ludi took up the chant. Together we roared the last lines, and I became Domitia's sworn gladiatrix.

Temporarily, anyway.

Alexander watched us, face immobile. I moved back to him to take my bag.

He snapped, ‘Who are you?'

I didn't reply.

 

‘So you did it?' Valerius had Domitia's contract spread out on his desk, busy checking the modifications she'd made.

‘As I told you, I still have to impress Plautius Sulla to get the initiation. But, when I left the amphitheatre, Gaius was heading back to the Crassus mansion for celebratory drinks with the boss.' I'd sent Alexander home with him as I wanted to talk to Valerius in private. ‘So I'd take that as a good sign. Now. What news have you got for me?'

He hadn't said anything about finding Victoria yet.

Valerius stopped gloating over the contract, and sat back to give me a serious answer. ‘As soon as you left yesterday I sent two of my best men over to the Iseum to check our contacts there.' He shouted for his secretary to send in Rufus.

A chunky, middle-aged man, with sandy hair and faded brown eyes, trotted in. He stood at attention, shoulders back and hands clasped behind him. From that, and the number of old scars across his legs and forearms, I was betting he'd spent his early adult life in the legions.

Taking his cue from Valerius, Rufus recited his mission brief and then the results, ‘The two Iseum watchers we'd left posted there had no news to report, Sir. No-one of Mrs Bellona's description had been seen in, or near the grounds of the Iseum, yesterday or today.'

He paused to check with Valerius, then said, ‘However. I was given to understand that there's a
good chance the lady in question may have gone in disguise. If that is the case, we have no sure way of knowing if she did, in fact, go there at all. That said,' he coughed. ‘There have been no recent fights, or disturbances in, or near the Iseum. And given that Mrs Bellona is a gladiatrix and very able to defend herself, it would seem unlikely she'd have been abducted from there without a major disturbance.' Rufus concluded his report by clicking his sandalled heels, and a curt, ‘Sir.'

Valerius dismissed him. I watched him leave. So, no news? But if she wasn't at the Iseum where could she possibly be?

‘How good are your Iseum contacts?' I needed to know if I could trust this information.

Valerius, miffed at my line of questioning, said, ‘We've had our own people there watching for any news about the Hierophant since Bellona hired me. In other words, the very best!'

I was starting to wonder about Valerius. Whether I'd made the right decision about following his advice. ‘You said to leave it all to your men, Valerius.' Anger peppered my voice. ‘That if she could be found your people would do it. But you don't have anything for me. Do you?'

‘No.' He refused to be ruffled. ‘But she only went missing yesterday, and there are over a million people living in the city limits,' he said, pointedly. ‘Don't worry, Rufus is on top of it. He's advertising a substantial reward for any information, and we have a team of professional man-hunters scouring the city for her. Don't worry, we'll find her.'

I stared at him. What other options did I have? I didn't know this city at all. If she wasn't at the Iseum, where else could I look?

I tried to refocus on the business at hand. ‘What about the craftsman that made the dagger? Anything on that?'

‘Actually, I have some very good news. We'd already shown the dagger to a number of expert craftsmen here in Rome, and none could tell us who made it. But …' Valerius pulled the Isis dagger out of his desk drawer. ‘Yesterday, a man we hadn't interviewed before showed us this.'

He turned the handle up to the light to show a tiny catch underneath the woman's crown. When he flipped the catch, the crown dropped back. In the hollow inside was a small piece of thin material rolled into a tube. He pulled out the paper and carefully spread it on the desk.

‘It's Egyptian papyrus.' A border of the same repeated symbol framed the central text. It was a woman with wings spread, wearing a horned crown. The text was hieroglyphs. Valerius pointed to the winged woman. ‘It is one of the main images of Isis.'

I shivered. It was the exact same image that Andromache had shown me last night. Winged Isis. Unfortunately my transponder only dealt with Latin Latin. ‘You have to find someone to translate this. It could identify the owner of the dagger,' I said. I knew a little about Egypt, but nothing much about its writing system.

‘Yes, I know.' He patted the handle of the dagger. ‘It could be just the proof of a human sacrifice ritual that your mother was searching for. But we will have to be very careful. Most of the Egyptians in Rome are connected to the Isiacs in one way or another. I do know of someone who can help us, but it will take some time to get her to Rome.' He started to put the papyrus back in the dagger.

‘No. Don't put it away yet. I want to make a copy of the text. I'm going to visit the Iseum myself this afternoon, and it might come in handy.' I couldn't read the text myself, but I was betting someone at the Iseum could.

He shook his head. ‘Trust me, you won't find anything there.'

‘Maybe not, but what else can I do? Tell me and I'll do it.' My patience, never my strong point, was on empty. ‘I can't just sit around waiting.'

He pursed his lips, and said, ‘Nothing. There's nothing else.'

‘I thought so.' I pulled a spiral notebook and pen out of my shoulder bag, and started copying the hidden text.

Valerius said nothing, but when I glanced up he was staring at my pen. Now I'd really freaked him out. As long as he did his job he could just wonder, I couldn't give him a reasonable explanation.

Before I'd even reached the front door Horace had swung it open and was waiting with a dignified, but warm look of welcome. Freckle was dancing around at his side, like an overexcited puppy. Horace bowed slightly, saying, ‘Congratulations, my lady. We've heard the excellent news.'

‘Thanks, Horace.' I must've sounded strange, because his face wrinkled into a concerned, but silent question.

I didn't answer.

After talking to Valerius I was tired and desperate. Victoria was out there somewhere, in trouble, and I just couldn't get to her fast enough.

Freckle piped up instead, ‘Did you really kill all those gladiators, my lady?'

I blinked. In only one hour the story had changed completely. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but there was only one opponent, and no-one died.'

His pointed little face fell. ‘But you did fight barehanded?' he insisted.

I nodded, and he clapped his hands.

Horace shushed Freckle to say, ‘Permit me, my lady, to tell you that the mistress is very pleased.'

‘I hope so.' Well, at least some part of the plan to find Victoria was working.

‘May I also remind you that Master Philemon will be holding another rehearsal today. After lunch. I hope that gives you enough time to rest?'

I had other things than a rest in mind, but said, ‘Yes. Thank you, Horace. But do you know where Alexander is? I need to talk to him.'

‘No, my lady. But I will find him for you.' Horace sent Freckle sprinting off.

Waiting beside him in the atrium, it became clear that news about the fight had spread throughout the household. Above us, clusters of servants gathered on the upper floors began to whisper.

Horace, following my gaze, clapped his hands once, and they all scattered like leaves. He was a slave, but he was still powerful.

And hopefully knowledgeable as well.

‘Er, Horace. Can we go somewhere for a short, confidential talk?'

‘Yes, of course, my lady.' He covered his surprise to say in his normal precise and polite tones, ‘Please follow me.'

He led me down a corridor off to the left, and into a part of the house I hadn't yet seen. We ended up in a corner room with a view of a rockery filled with flowering succulents and a statue of a man, naked of course, and well endowed beyond any normal expectations. Horace paid no attention to the statue, so I didn't either. Domitia's choice no doubt.

There were detailed maps strung around the walls. Italy, the Mediterranean … And a large rectangular
wooden table, also covered in maps, took centre place. It was the Crassus map room. Where they kept track of their possessions.

Horace indicated a comfortable chair next to the table, but politely refused to take the one opposite, waiting for me to speak instead.

I hesitated. This wasn't going to be easy. I had several key decisions to make, and I had to make them now, with almost no information to draw on.

I wasn't even sure what I exactly needed to know.

‘Horace, what can you tell me about Alexander? I know he hasn't been here long, but I'm sure you know about everyone in your household.'

I was also betting he knew I now owned Alexander.

He restrained a pleased smile at the compliment. ‘Of course, my lady. Mistress Crassus bought him from Quintus Saturninus, a Roman nobleman who was forced to sell his stable of fighters to buy his way out of …' He broke off, searching for a slave-appropriate word. ‘… trouble.' His raised eyebrows, rather than his tone, added an exclamation mark. ‘Alexander was his most important gladiator, and he was expensive, very expensive.'

‘If he's so expensive, why did she give him to me?' I was trying to feel out what Domitia's purpose was here. I wasn't going to have a spy hanging over my shoulder while I looked for Victoria.

‘Alexander was expensive for most. But not for a Crassus.' Seeing my doubt he continued. ‘You must realise that money has never meant anything to the mistress. She'll never know what it's like to not have exactly what she wants, when she wants it.' He seemed to be saying that it was her loss.

Suddenly, I realised I liked Horace. He was a slave in this intrigue-ridden household, and God knows what
it must be like having Domitia as your owner, but he'd somehow still managed to keep his soul.

‘Alexander is young, my lady. He'd only been working in the big arenas for the past two years, but it was public knowledge that he was set to become one of the great stars. You know he's Thracian of course?' implying that anyone would've picked that up immediately.

I shook my head. I wasn't going to pretend knowledge I didn't have. Not when I needed all the information I could get.

‘Oh?' Surprised. Then he recouped his role as obliging informant, ‘Well, like the rest of his countrymen he's intense. A serious fighter. One with great courage.'

‘Thracian? But, then why is he a retiarius? Don't they use always the sword and the shield?'

‘Oh, he can use those as well.' That was said with certainty. ‘Alexander has been trained in many of the fighting arts. But he excels at the net like no-one else.'

I could believe that. Alexander felt like a fighter to the soul.

Way too reckless, but a fighter indeed.

‘I accompanied the mistress to watch his last public combat, and it was quite something,' mulled Horace. ‘He's a curious young man. I don't feel that he enjoys killing. But he does do it so very well. And of course this being Rome, he is made to do it.'

Checking my expression with a little too much understanding, he explained, ‘But of course that is not why the mistress bought him and gave him to you. As anyone with eyes can see, he's one of the most beautiful young men in Rome.'

Horace seemed to be waiting for me to ask a question, but I couldn't tell what it was.

He prompted me. ‘Surely you must wonder why a slave like Alexander was being used in the arena?'

I had the horrible feeling I knew where he was headed. ‘Go on.'

‘Well, he'd be worth just as much to his owner, selling his sexual services to private clients. And of course there would be little risk of death or injury.'

I knew the answer to that one. ‘Nothing would make Alexander accept being anyone's toy.'

From Horace's expression I was being naive. ‘But that is exactly what happened.'

I didn't want to hear this. ‘What are you getting at? He was a gladiator.'

‘The story I've heard told is that when he was a child his first owner used him in that way.'

‘No!' That was too much. But somehow I already knew it. It'd explain his suicidally aggressive mood with Lurco last night.

‘When Alexander was eight years old his owner was found at the bottom of a set of stairs, with a broken neck.'

I shot Horace a quick, searching look. Anyone who'd spent any time at all with Alexander knew he wouldn't submit quietly.

Horace nodded. ‘Yes. That's what I think happened too. But Alexander was lucky. His owner's relatives were too busy rejoicing in their new inheritance to question the accident.' He shrugged. ‘But the rest of the house slaves knew what had really happened. And so eventually the rumours started. Fortunately, none of the Romans would believe it. How could a small boy kill an adult male? A cowed foreign slave child kill a Roman master? Unthinkable!'

He permitted himself the smallest of smiles. ‘So, in the end, it was the Romans' arrogance that saved him.
But it was the possibility that it was true, that earned him an early ticket to gladiator school.'

‘So he's been training to fight since then? Since he was eight?' I knew what that meant, but I'd had Yuki as my mother and teacher. He'd been a child slave in a brutal master's world.

What a story. My heart ached for him.

‘I believe,' Horace said, with great gentleness, ‘that the only way Alexander has survived is by holding onto the thought that he could win his freedom through fighting in the arena.'

‘And now?'

He didn't reply. At that question his face had changed back into polite neutrality. He'd reached the limit of his confidences. I was free, after all.

‘And now?' I insisted.

‘When Domitia bought him last week, and made him into a house slave again, she destroyed that dream. Now he will never be free.'

 

Alexander was in the gymnasium, pretending to polish my leather gear. It certainly didn't need it, so he was probably up to something. The gym was all open archways, no good for a frank conversation, so I said, ‘Alexander, leave that for now and come back to the villa. We need to have a talk.'

He just ignored me and continued buffing.

It was hard to be mad with him after hearing his sorry history, but I was running on empty too.

I tried to say as gently as possible, ‘Alexander. I know you're angry with everything. And everyone. But if you come with me now, maybe we can change that.'

He gave me a hard disbelieving face, but stood up anyway.

Back in my room I sat on one chair and nodded towards the one opposite. He ignored it to move over to the window and lean against it. Once again he had his back to the light, so I couldn't see his expression.

This was going to take time, and I was still wondering if it was going to be worth it. The problem was that when Gaius signed Alexander's papers over to me this morning, he'd said that Domitia expected me to keep my new slave by my side. That they were going to use him in setting up my slutty public image as the new Cleopatra.

He'd made it clear it wasn't open to negotiation.

So now I was stuck with Alexander following me around. If he wanted to, he could help me. Because he knew Rome and the Romans. Otherwise he'd just hold me up.

Or worse, sabotage me.

Well it was worth one try. ‘Alexander, I want to make you a proposition.'

‘Why bother?' Icicles dangled from each word. ‘Horace told me you own me now, so you know I have to do whatever you say.' There was a curl of the lip on the last word.

‘Oh really? Was that what you were just doing in the gymnasium?'

A random beam of light bouncing off the fountain outside illuminated those iceberg eyes for just a second. He was furious, but then what was new about that?

He said nothing.

‘We both know you're not going to cooperate with me. Or anyone else. So I'm going to make you an offer.' Hopefully one he couldn't refuse. ‘If you do exactly what I say — without question — for the next four days, you'll get your freedom.'

He cut right through my attempt at open and friendly negotiation, to snarl, ‘And what exactly will you be asking me to do?'

Alexander was no fool. He knew if I was bothering to make this kind of deal he was about to be asked to do something above and beyond the call of duty.

I gave up the friendly bit. ‘You help me find someone, keep your mouth shut while you do it, and you go free when I leave Rome.'

That got him moving.

He pushed off the side of the window to stand over me. Threateningly. I wasn't surprised, but still, as his owner I could have him executed for that.

‘If you're caught committing a crime and they can prove I …' He jabbed a finger into his chest, ‘… was involved. Then no matter what happens to you, they'll torture me to death as part of the court's sentence.'

As he stood over me, intimidation personified, it crossed my mind that it'd be a lot easier to just take him out of the equation altogether.

I stroked my chin. I wouldn't have to worry about him then. Perhaps I should just dispose of him?

Contemplation of the advantages of such a move held me still for one long minute.

In that time, Alexander's expression changed from open aggression to fold into something hard and edged with intent. It must be the way he looked when he was about to fight.

Yes. I definitely didn't want him around if he wasn't on my side. Disposal could be easiest. Decision made.

‘Okay, if you're too scared to help me, Alexander, then what if I arrange your escape today?' He hadn't seen that coming. ‘Give you enough money to leave. I don't want you around if you're going to get in my
way. And Domitia won't allow me to free you until her plans are complete.'

By now his hard-edged intimidation had defrosted into sheer disbelief. He stared down at me as though I was from another planet. In some ways I was.

‘I'm serious,' I insisted. ‘I will give you enough money to get out of Rome. Make your escape. Go as far as you want. So why don't you run for it? Let's face it, everyone kind of expects you to anyway.'

He just stared at me.

‘Look. I either get your help and then you get your freedom. Or I'm going to find a way to get rid of you.'

I stood up, so I could go eye to eye with him. So I could stir some response. ‘Where's your backbone, Alexander? This is your big chance, one way or another. Don't you want your freedom?' I half shouted the last sentence.

Alexander blinked. Then his whole body language changed. ‘You're mad,' he snapped.

‘No,' I spat out. ‘I'm very, very desperate!' I had to convince him I was serious. Even if it meant making myself vulnerable.

‘Desperate?' That got him in. He'd either finally accepted that I was making him a serious offer. Or realised it was to his advantage to at least listen to me. He sat in the chair opposite.

Finally! I sat down again.

‘I want two things. And I want them now,' he demanded.

Oh, that was good. From intimidation to disbelief to demands in under a minute. He was quick on his feet.

‘Firstly, I want proof that if I help you, I'll go free by a certain date. No matter what. I want it in writing and notarised.' Every word emphasised as though I was
hearing impaired. ‘Second — you tell me everything. I want to know exactly what I'm getting into.' Hackles fully raised, he said, ‘And don't leave out any little details that you think I don't need to know.'