Gladiatrix (25 page)

‘But not believe it?'

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Would you?'

I immediately shot back, ‘No.'

‘I didn't think so,' he replied. ‘But I think I should take your deal anyway.'

He offered me his hand and forearm, just like Felix had this morning. I changed the Glock from my right to left hand, and we shook on it.

I started to carefully pack the Glock back in my bag.

‘No. No,' he said. ‘You don't just show me the kun and put it away.'

‘Gun,' I said clearly.

‘Gun,' he tested the word. ‘First, you have to explain how the gun works.'

He wanted to be able to use it. Just like the phactor. I stared at him for a moment. ‘Give me your word you won't touch it without my permission.'

‘I give you my word,' he spoke in earnest.

Was I creating a monster here? One that could come back to bite me?

I guess I would have to chance it. I pulled out the spiral notebook and pen, and we sat back down. I started drawing a diagram of the firing mechanism.

When he touched the smooth, fine notepaper, I stopped writing, then gave him the pen to use. Somehow these simple materials, closer to the things of his own time, had touched him in a way the phactor and gun had not. He drew a line on the paper. He wasn't afraid. Fascinated was more the word.

He gave me back the pen and tapped the page. ‘Go on — explain the gun.'

I went through the basics, then insisted on putting the gun away. No-one had come to investigate the noise yet, but I didn't want to spend all day talking to Alexander about the future either.

He picked up the phactor. ‘Tell me about this metal box? What can it do?'

‘It's a memory machine that can store sound, pictures, words. Actually, it belongs to Victoria.'

‘So she's from the future too?' It wasn't a sarcastic question, he was just trying to find a way to work with me now. ‘How many of you are here?'

That sounded a little more sceptical.

‘Just me and Victoria. For the moment. Others may come — but later — to rescue us both.'

He dived on that. ‘So you're in trouble too?'

I didn't answer. I wasn't sure what to tell him. I wasn't really sure I knew what was going on myself.

‘Why are you here?'

Where to start? So I started at the beginning. Being found. Yuki and Des. The lead that took me to Victoria and the NTA. The bodies at the abandoned homestead and the Isiac terrorists. I wasn't sure he'd understand any of it, let alone remember anything. But it just poured out. I was half saying it for myself. I needed someone to talk to, to try and make sense of this mess.

For all his previous aggressive posturing, Alexander was an expert listener. And patient.

He'd stop me and ask perceptive questions. I'd answer, then go on. I told him my plan, such as it was. But as we spoke he became increasingly thoughtful, almost subdued.

At the end there was an awkward pause, so I took out the photo of Victoria and Celeste I had in my shoulder bag.

He looked down at it for a moment, tracing his finger across the paper. ‘Two thousand years, all those powerful machines, and this still happens.' He tapped the little girl. ‘She has your eyes.' Weighing his next sentence for a moment, he said, ‘So, you don't know for certain that Victoria's your mother?'

‘No.' My answer was reluctant. I was trying to focus on finding Victoria, rather than going over that question one more time. ‘My mother could be the poor woman found in the park.'

He nodded once. With his childhood, he had to understand something of my feelings. ‘What about Victoria's phactor? There's nothing on there to help?'

‘I've been through it all.' I shrugged. ‘There's a locked section, but I need a password to open it.'

He frowned at that. ‘A secret word that Victoria would've chosen?'

‘Sort of. But it could just be a nonsense word. Or even a random set of numbers. I've tried everything I could think of. But no luck.'

Alexander studied my face.

It was as though he could picture my life. As though of all the people that knew my story, he alone understood what had happened in that cave.

The feeling unsettled me in a way I couldn't identify.

‘The person that tried to kill me did this.' I pulled at the neck of my tunic, moving the material down until my fingers found the ridge. There was a triangle cut into the skin over my heart. An old scar.

When I was nine years old and found the files on my case, I realised what the scar was. What it meant. For the next five years I covered it with tape, Elastoplast, anything I could find to obliterate it. As a result the skin around the scar had become infected from the constant contact with adhesives. Each time I had ripped off the tape, another layer of skin had been removed.

I'd been hoping the scar would go too. I didn't want to stay marked as a victim in this way.

‘I've never known my real name. All I have is this mark.' For once I ran my fingers over the ridges. I didn't like touching it. ‘One day it'll lead me to the person that put it there. And when I find them I'll cut the same one into their body. But I won't stop at the skin.'

‘Kannon,' Alexander's voice was softer than I'd ever heard it. ‘You may have to start planning another way to find Victoria.'

‘Why?' God knows my plan was flawed.

He shrugged. ‘You're relying on help from a Crassus. They can't be relied on.'

‘But she's signed a contract. If Plautius accepts me, then I get the initiation. Roman law is pretty strict.'

He just sat there, watching me. He didn't speak.

‘Make your point.' His pity worried me more than anything else he'd done so far.

‘You don't know anything about this family, do you?'

‘Valerius mentioned something, but he didn't go into details.' Impatience surged up. ‘But if you're going to give me a warning, then spit it out fast.'

He ignored my impatience. ‘Everything about this family, about Domitia, started with her great-uncle Marcus Crassus.'

I shook my head at the name. It sounded familiar. ‘Is he still alive?'

‘No. But he built this family into what it is today. The money, the power, everything. And he's the one they all model themselves on, Domitia most of all.'

‘So how did he build his empire?'

‘Extortion rackets, mainly. The last one, before he finally turned legitimate, was a private fire brigade.'

‘A fire brigade. That doesn't sound very profitable.'

‘Except for the fact that until Augustus, most of this city, and particularly the slums, was built of ramshackle wooden dwellings. It was like a heavily populated bonfire. They had fires all the time.'

‘So a fire brigade was a good thing, wasn't it?'

‘Not if you set the fire first. And then demand payment before you put it out.'

‘Okay. I'm getting your drift.'

‘It gets much worse than that. When he decided to turn respectable he invested all his money in something
more socially acceptable — slaves. And he made millions too. The Empire was expanding, so the demand for labour grew at the same rate. Problem was — no-one likes becoming property. Many would rather die fighting,' he emphasised the last word. ‘Many did.'

He waited to see if I understood.

The Slave Wars. ‘You're talking about Spartacus. Hell! He's that Marcus Crassus? Of course.' I hadn't put it all together.

In 73BC Spartacus and seventy others escaped from a gladiators school in Capua. Others joined and in the end they were an army, seventy thousand strong. ‘Spartacus defeated every legion sent against them.'

‘That's right,' Alexander said. ‘Until the last one, when Marcus Crassus took charge. To give his own army incentive he gathered the defeated legions outside the city, and split them into groups of ten. They used a lottery to select who'd be punished. Do you know what decimation means?'

‘Oh God.' I hadn't known this part.

‘One out of every group was stoned to death — by the other nine.'

My insides curled at the thought. Stoning. What a terrible way to die.

Slowly, with broken bones and torn flesh, at the hands of your brothers and comrades. And everyone throwing the stones knowing that it could have been them instead.

‘But you see, Marcus Crassus still couldn't defeat Spartacus in the field,' said Alexander. ‘He got him through treachery instead, bribing the pirates who'd been paid to ferry the slave army to freedom. And to remind all Rome of his triumph, Crassus ordered the surviving slaves be crucified on posts lining the Appian Way. Six thousand of them, lining the road
into Rome. That night they were doused in oil. so they could serve as candles for the passing traffic.'

‘And you're saying Domitia is as ruthless as her great-uncle? But I don't trust her, Alexander. I know what she is.'

‘No, you don't! Or you wouldn't be here. You have to listen to me, Kannon. You can't trust Domitia Crassus. She's her uncle's bloodline through and through.'

‘But …'

He cut in. ‘She's tolerating your behaviour now, but it won't last. You can't rely on her help, or promises, to find your mother.'

‘I don't trust her, Alexander! But you know my situation, what else can I do?'

Then it struck me. ‘Spartacus was Thracian.' Some words from a first-year textbook came tumbling back to me, colliding with the talk I'd had with Horace.

‘Yes?'

‘You're from Thrace too, aren't you? That's what Horace said.'

Alexander's face folded back into a mask.

Thracians were considered the best fighters in the empire, but flawed as gladiators. They were gutsy and held to a fierce code of honour, but were almost untameable as slaves for those very same reasons. Like Spartacus, they didn't take slavedom well and they didn't go quietly.

‘What were you going to do, Alexander? If I hadn't made this deal with you?'

He didn't reply.

Horace interrupted us, and without any explanation ordered me to follow him on the quick smart. It was almost rehearsal time and, as he was leading me up to the top floor, I presumed Domitia had further demands to fire off about my acting ability … or that now it all had to be done in mime …

But I was wrong.

Horace led me right past his mistress' private quarters and on to a corner room at the quiet, far end of the house. He just unlocked the door and motioned me through.

It was dark inside. Windowless, lit only by candles. And Andromache was sitting next to a bright cluster, reading.

I stopped in my tracks. ‘What …?'

She looked up, ‘Ah … Traveller.' She nodded at the seat opposite.

I sat.

It was luxurious for slave quarters, with richly upholstered furniture, and carpets, but a prison nevertheless. So Domitia kept her here?

‘Domitia had the windows closed in, the day she purchased me.' Andromache watched me out of her blue, blue eyes. ‘She's worried that I will be stolen … before I tell her exactly what she wants to know.'

Disgust rolled through me. That explained Andromache's chalk-white pallor. I couldn't stand seeing birds in a cage, let alone a human being.

‘And what would that be?' Hints for world domination? I could just imagine.

Andromache shook her red-gold head, its sheen creating a nimbus in the candlelight. ‘Don't waste time wondering about that one's secrets, girl. She's just the trapdoor into this haunted house. Her grudges are old ones, generations old, and knowing about them now won't help you find your way. She'll be back soon, and I have something more useful to tell you.'

She watched me react to her words. Very carefully. As though she was waiting for a sign.

Andromache had made it sound as though she could see the streams of all our lives mix and swirl below her own steady boat. And that she'd decided to dip a big oar in and stir it all around.

Despite last night. Or maybe because of last night, I was deeply suspicious. ‘Why, Andromache? Why do you need to tell me anything? What am I to you?'

‘You are a stone, girl, dropping into a pool.' She paused, choosing her words, ‘And the ripples will cause others to drown. Or to reach the shore.'

Water? Why had she used images of water to answer my question?

She shook her head again. ‘Don't question, Traveller … just listen.'

What followed was completely unexpected.

‘My sister and I were born to royalty,' her voice was like velvet, soft but rich, ‘a decade after the Romans
had colonised our homeland. Our father had managed to broker a kind of peaceful independence under their occupation. Cooperation with integrity.'

You could tell that she'd loved him, been proud of him. They'd been happy, despite the invasion.

‘That was until a new general arrived.' Her voice was cold, bleak. ‘One who believed the only reliable subjects were broken ones. He decided to eliminate my father and all his supporters. To cut off the head of the snake, as he put it.'

‘So he sent in the troops?'

‘No. Much worse.' The pain in her eyes glittered like broken glass. ‘He didn't want the rest of our people to see that his word could not be trusted. So as an offer of goodwill he flooded our city with grain. And, after a starvation winter, everyone gorged on it …'

‘But the grain was poisoned?'

‘In a way, yes.' She stared through me, remembering. ‘My father and mother burned with the pain of it. They cried that their limbs were on fire.' She swallowed. ‘Then their arms and legs turned black. Then rotted …'

Not gangrene? I didn't want to hear what was coming next.

‘The surgeon started cutting, trying to save them. But nothing worked.'

I groaned, softly. What could I say?

‘Others went mad instead, running through the streets howling. They saw terrible monsters everywhere …'

Hallucinations as well?

‘Around us, the whole city screamed in agony and terror. It was like the end of the world.'

Then it clicked. The grain …

She was talking about ergot poisoning. A poisonous fungus that grows on badly stored grain. And causes both gangrene and psychosis.

My God. The Romans had given them grain saturated with the equivalent of a lethal dose of LSD. What a way to die!

She read my face. ‘You know about it, of course.'

I nodded.

‘My sister and I had the mind fever. We were eight. And between what we'd seen happen around us and what we'd experienced ourselves, we were never the same again.'

‘Was that when your abilities first showed?'

‘Yes. Andromeda recovered first. She crawled through our house, searching through the dead. But she only found one alive. Our elder brother. She stayed with him until he healed. Then with his help, she went through the city. Out of the thousands, only the few hundred she touched survived.'

‘And you?'

‘I woke up in a different world. There were new colours, new patterns, new dimensions … And I saw that every choice we make shapes us, and it is that shape that conjures up our destiny. I could see people's true forms. So I could read the past they carried with them, and see their future stretch out ahead, like a road.

‘When the Romans heard about us, their general had us brought to his headquarters. He tested Andromeda first.' Her voice was bitter, ‘One of our people was brought in. He slashed her with his sword. My sister stopped the bleeding, and that made the general very happy. I could see he was going to keep us. And just exactly what that would mean. For all of us. With Andromache and me by his side he would rule the world. I had to do something …'

‘So I told him the truth, but not the part he wanted. I became his mirror, instead of his sword. I told him about the great suffering he would cause, how his name would be remembered with shame and loathing. And how even his own men would try to kill him in the end. He hated me for it.'

Andromache shrugged. ‘I had to do it. But he sent my poor brother to serve in the galleys, and my sister and I were given as gifts to one of Rome's allies.'

‘Cleopatra?' That was what Lurco had said.

‘Yes, though in reality I was intended as more of a curse than a blessing.' She waited. ‘Aren't you wondering why I called you here?'

‘Yes.' I was sorry for her, but had no idea why she was telling me her sad story.

‘Before my brother was dragged away, he vowed on our family's honour that he would escape and find us. He never gave up. And now you've become enmeshed in his attempt to free me.'

‘Your brother?' I tried to think. Who?

‘This is not a warning, Traveller. I told you our story so you would understand us. So you would not harm him. You can trust my brother, just as you can trust me. He will never betray you. But soon you will need something from him. Something he will refuse to give …'

She handed me a sealed letter. ‘When the time comes, Traveller, you will not need to use force. All you have to do is give him this.'

Then Andromache cocked her head, as though listening. But there was no sound to hear. ‘You must go, now. Quickly! Domitia has returned.'

I rose.

I hated to think what she would do to Andromache and Horace if she caught me here. ‘But who …?'

Her blue eyes burned into mine. ‘Valerius.'

My God. The missing fingers.

My mind raced as I pelted back down the stairs. I could hear Domitia questioning Horace at the front door. I sprinted down the hall and towards the back door. Alexander was waiting in the villa.

So Valerius was using the deal with Victoria to find a way to free his sister?

I was betting it was by finding proof that Domitia's friend, the Hierophant, performed human sacrifice. And then using that to somehow blackmail Domitia into handing Andromache over.

Hmm. Could his plans to free Andromache harm mine to find Victoria?

No, probably not.

In fact it could help. I needed a highly motivated Valerius and now I knew I had one …

Smash!

Dishes crashed to the floor in the food-storage room just off the rear entrance. I jerked around at the noise … and froze in place.

Lurco had his back to the doorway. He was gripping Alexander by one forearm and leaning into him. Whispering in his ear.

Fuck!

Alexander might've seemed compliant to Lurco, but then Lurco couldn't see his eyes.

I could. He was about to detonate and take Lurco with him.

I lunged into the room, yelling, ‘Get off him!'

I ripped Lurco away and spun him thudding into the far wall.

Lurco bounced, caught his feet again, and came up ready to blast whoever …

Then he saw me. The naked twins of rage and fear,
swimming through my eyes. Rage at Lurco. Fear that I'd almost missed preventing Alexander from being executed for defending himself. After hearing his history, after sharing mine, attacking Alexander was the same as attacking me.

‘Bellona?' He tried to bluff it out. ‘Why don't we share him? I could teach you some tricks I learnt on my last trip to Athens …'

Alexander had turned away from us.

If he looked at Lurco he'd probably go for him. Then we'd both be on the run.

I moved between them. Back to Alexander, fists to Lurco.

‘Get out! And don't ever come near him again, Lurco.' I had to make sure Alexander understood that he didn't have to fight this beast himself. That I'd do it for him.

Spite creased Lurco's little piggy eyes into slits. ‘Don't you tell me what to do,' spittle flying as he spoke, ‘you dirty foreign whore.' But he didn't come any closer. ‘You're just a slave for hire. Here because your mistress wants to keep an eye on you.'

‘Get out!' If he didn't leave soon, I was going to hurt him myself.

He went red with rage. ‘You stupid slut! If I ask Domitia, she'll send him to me naked. With a bow around his neck.'

I leant into his face. ‘You're too late, Lurco. Domitia gave him to me this morning. I own him now.'

He went two shades into puce. ‘You think that'll stop me? I'll get him, one way or another. And there's nothing you can do!' Lurco spat out viciously. ‘Even if I have to have him dragged off the street.'

A surge of hate, razor sharp, rose up through my body cutting all restraints.

He meant it. Lurco would keep trying until he got what he wanted. And Domitia couldn't be trusted to protect Alexander while he was in this house.

Without a thought I hooked Lurco under the armpits, and lifted him up. He gaped down at me in surprise then horror.

I threw him backwards and down. He landed hard. Head jarring, breath knocked out of him, limbs sprawled limply across the tiles.

The desire to end him then and there was so strong my hands were shaking with it. Not trusting them I put my foot on his throat, and pushed down into him. ‘If you ever. Ever. Touch him again. I will find you, Lurco.'

He clawed at my sandal, trying to relieve the pressure, but it didn't make any difference.

I pressed down hard enough to make him feel his larynx start to give. ‘And nothing, Lurco. And no-one. Will stop me from dealing with you.'

His eyes were starting to pop from the pressure. I eased my foot back. Forced myself to stand away from him while he sucked in air. ‘Now get out of my sight!'

Eyes fixed in terror and frustrated fury, Lurco watched me the whole time he scrambled backwards out of the room.

I knew once he couldn't see me the fury would win. He didn't have to yell threats on the way out. I already knew I'd just made a very bad enemy. A very bad one.

Alexander was staring at the doorway, his fists tightly clenched. He didn't meet my eye.

I stared down at his hands for a second. I didn't know what to say. How to comfort him. But I tried: ‘Alexander. I promise you this. I will protect you. From that man, and anyone else.'

I was making the vow to myself as much as him. ‘I will protect you.'

 

Philemon was lolling contentedly in the same chair as last time, scroll in one hand, and wine cup in the other. Domitia must have decided to leave him with the onerous task of battering us into shape because he was alone.

He smiled up at us in a friendly fashion until he saw our expressions, then sat up. ‘Oh, my darlings, what's happened? You both look like you've had a visit from a clawed and vengeful Harpy.'

I didn't have the energy to respond.

It was an unfortunate image he'd just chosen. Lurco was certainly going to be vengeful. Alexander and I both knew that, without having exchanged a word.

‘Hades,' he said. ‘What happened to the thunder and lightning of yesterday? Come and sit down.' He patted a chair set on either side of him.

We sat. Mute.

Philemon decided to ignore our lack of enthusiasm. Instead he handed us each a cup of his favourite solution to life's problems, strong wine. ‘Well my dears, yesterday convinced me that you both have dramatic talents. We just have to tap into them more creatively. So today we're going to have some acting lessons.'

When neither of us reacted, he said brightly, but with an undertone of anxiety, ‘Don't forget that Domitia will have all our skins if it doesn't go well tomorrow night.' He paused to search our faces for some understanding of that at least.

I tried to give him a reassuring smile. Alexander had shut down completely.

Philemon was disheartened, but revived himself enough to say, ‘Domitia is right when she said if you
can face the arena, you can do this.' He paused for dramatic effect, and said with arms swung wide, ‘So we will treat it like the arena! You're both used to training for fighting, so we will do the same thing here.'

As if on cue Alexander and I both drained our wine.

Philemon's eyebrows shot up, but he continued on valiantly. ‘You've already memorised the words, so now we will train for the delivery. Yes, this is the way to go,' he congratulated himself on that piece of insight. ‘You're athletes, so we'll break down the emotions you need to show into individual exercises you can practise.'