Gladiatrix (34 page)

I shut my mouth with a click.

Cupid was supposed to be blond, so Alex's hair had been dusted with gold powder, but the black still showed through at the roots. With his dark lashes and brows, and long muscular body, he looked more like a gilded devil than an angelic teenage cupid. He wore a gold loincloth, and small gold wings were fixed to his back with matching leather straps that crossed his chest and shoulders. The gold powder in his hair made his blue eyes stand out. They glittered.

Alex took in my costume, wicked thoughts flashing across his face. Part of me said ‘he's just getting into character'. Another part of me said ‘no — this is his character'.

Philemon was also startled by his expression. Over the past twenty-four hours Alex had pretty much abandoned acting like my slave in private. Now he seemed to have abandoned it in public as well.

Philemon surveyed us both. ‘Oh yes. Tonight's going to be very interesting. Indeed. Now, for a little final advice.'

He handed us another pair of full wine goblets. ‘My lady Crassus wants a sensation. So whatever you do, don't be boring! And if you make a mistake, just keep on going.'

I hiccupped. It was so hot in here. I hiccuped again.

Footsteps sounded outside, and Domitia stormed in through the door, trailing a perplexed Horace. She'd arrived in time for a final inspection, but she didn't look happy about it. In fact her face had to be a violent purple under all that white paste. A tinge of lilac was showing through round the edges.

Philemon, initially put off by her forceful arrival and strangely coloured face, managed to stutter politely, ‘A, a, ah, my lady?'

Then he went into full-volume soothing mode, possibly thinking Domitia had stage fright by proxy.

‘They look quite special, don't they? How is the audience shaping up?' As a playwright he had to be used to calming nervous patrons.

‘Shut up, you idiot!' Domitia cracked. ‘You've got a big problem. Everything has to change!' Behind her, Horace rolled his eyes to the ceiling, as though imploring for help from the only dimension with enough power to make a difference.

‘Wh—what do you mean, my lady?' Philemon pointed to us. ‘They're ready to go on …'

‘Plautius!' screamed Domitia, in full drama queen frenzy. ‘Has changed his mind!'

‘Changed his …?' Philemon was not coping with the onslaught.

‘Stop repeating my words, idiot! That fatuous toad just told me Augustus doesn't like the Cleopatra-as-whore image any more!' She put her hands on hips to spit out, ‘Now he's decided he's looking for a more serious style of gladiatrix.'

Philemon whitened. ‘But why …'

‘Because now he's decided there's no honour in defeating a slut! Even if she is a queen!' Domitia was frothing with rage. ‘And Plautius is out there in the audience, impatient to report back to his master on the latest candidate. Who's about to show herself as the biggest slut in Rome.'

Philemon, offended at the slur on his gentle Psyche, started to protest. Over the top rode the sound, ‘Boo. Boo. Boo …'

Domitia pricked up her ears. ‘What's that, Horace?' We all knew what it was, she just wanted someone to make it go away.

‘It's the audience, my lady. The acrobats have finished. And I told you before, the wine was too …'

She flipped her hand at him, dismissing the rest. ‘They'll just have to go on. I'll lose too much face to cancel now. Half the guests are here just to see this performance.'

Then she dumped it all on Philemon, saying, ‘You're the playwright. Fix this!' She stalked out, Horace at her heels.

Philemon clutched his head. ‘Fix this? What does she think …' Then he remembered himself. ‘We have to get up there. Now!'

He hustled us up the path to the main house. ‘Keeping a drunken audience waiting is the smile of Medusa to a play.'

‘But what are we going to …?' I was completely confused.

‘If Augustus wants a serious gladiatrix,' replied Philemon. ‘Then give him serious drama!'

 

The painted backdrop for the first scene showed a grassy field with a stream backed by olive trees. Centre stage was a bed covered in a mantle of fabric flowers.

Scene One: An invisible Cupid falls in love with Psyche. I lay on the fake flowerbed with my arms resting loosely above my head, crossed at the wrists. My shoulders flat on the bed, the rest of my body was curved side-on towards the audience, with one knee dropped forward. Philemon hovered above me tweaking my gown into nicer folds.

‘What do you mean by serious drama, Philemon? How's that going to …'

Horace stuck his head around the curtain and gave the signal. Philemon bolted off the stage without answering.

I shut my eyes. All going well — this would be over in twenty minutes. I started mentally rehearsing my lines again. Twenty minutes, that's all it should take.

The curtains rolled back to applause, and catcalls. The audience liked my costume and pose. And yes, they were certainly drunk. Gibbering monkey noises came from the front row. Which was a lot closer than I'd expected.

I squinted one eye open. The front row was right next to the low stage? Domitia must have crammed in extra chairs. Great, a drunken audience within touching distance. It was going to get interesting if they didn't like the show.

A burst of whistles and equally explicit comments told me Alex had appeared, and they were impressed with his acting ability as well. As he crossed the stage he got helpful advice on what to do with his quiver of golden arrows. This audience wasn't warmed up, they were bubbling over.

I peered at Alex as he sat on the flowerbed and drew out an arrow ready to use. I shut my eyes again and waited for his opening lines, the really boring ones proclaiming the mission Venus had sent him on. Instead there was silence and then a tickling sensation.

I opened one eye again. Alex was carefully running the arrow point around my face.

‘Pouty lips. Honeyed skin.' As he touched the tip of his arrow to my cheek, Alex drawled, ‘Mother, you didn't tell me the half of it.'

That got a shout of laughter. And more detailed dating advice.

Then Alex ran the arrow down the side of my neck to the top of my breasts.

What the …?

He was drunk. And he'd forgotten his lines. That had to be it.

The point of the arrow was starting to really tickle. I shivered, which made my breasts jiggle.

The arrow stopped moving for a moment. And the front row went crazy cheering. Someone was making deep, breathy groans from somewhere not that far from my ear.

Alex raised the arrow and gently touched it to the skin above my heart, at last remembering one of his real lines. ‘Oh fair Psyche, receive your fate.'

Finally, my cue. I opened my eyes and sat up, stretching and yawning. This evoked a round of applause, and detailed speculations about my bra size measured in handfuls.

In character I pretended to look straight through Alex. He was supposed to be invisible after all. But that wasn't easy considering that he too was busy appreciating the front of my dress.

Hmm? Time to cut this all short with the arrow.

But Alex was ready for me. As I pushed it towards him he grabbed me, and twisted me sideways over his arm.

Now my head was resting on the lap of someone sitting in the front row. I looked to the side of Alex's dark head to see Gaius staring down at us both in total fury! Alex lowered his head for a kiss, with the crowd giving him raucous encouragement.

What the …?

The curtains started to close before he could finish, and Alex swung us both back in time.

Outside, the audience hooted and howled.

Before I could react the stage exploded into a frenzy. Creon lunged out of the wings to grab Alex for the next costume change. Three slaves scrambled in,
carrying sheets and pillows, ready to transform the flowerbed. And Philemon dashed in to drag me backstage for my next costume.

What was going on here? I tried to ask Philemon for advice, but he ignored my confusion to strip me faster than a bed on washing day. He threw the red filmy sleeping gown over my head, brushed the long black wig over one shoulder, and gave me another squirt of perfume.

We paused in the wings while the curtains opened. Most of the lights had been doused, so now the stage was in shadow. Except for one lamp sitting on a table next to Alex.

He was lounging across the newly made bed. Lying back against the pillows. Provocatively.

I tried again, ‘Philemon, what should …'

He shushed me, then pushed me forward, saying, ‘Go!'

Grrr. I needed the contract from Plautius. Alex was drunk. And I had no idea how to make this work.

When I stepped out from behind the curtains there was another bout of cheering and low wolf whistles. Now I could see that the boys from the Ludi had secured the middle of the front row. Cerebus was sitting next to Gaius, and they were both staring at me intently.

‘I am afraid my husband is a monster,' I said, following the script. Cerebus burst into a deep belly laugh. The rest joined him.

Damn! Now that Alex had muffed the first scene, they were going to take every word as a double entendre.

I soldiered on, keeping to the script. ‘What am I to do? I am all alone. Defenceless.' Sure enough, several more lewd suggestions were shouted.

Grabbing the lamp and holding it high, I said, ‘I must find out what he looks like!'

The lamplight showed Alex. One big, semi-naked hunk of fetchingly sprawled male, pretending to sleep. All the women and some of the men sighed heavily.

Then I noticed a glint of deep blue. He was watching me watch him.

Kneeling next to him I raised the lamp again, as though for a better look. But before I could say my lines Alex rolled towards me.

Using a husky, mocking tone, he said, ‘Honey, I told you not to peek. Now I must punish you.' He didn't seem to be talking about leaving me alone to my fate, as scripted.

The crowd screamed at that, knowing what was being promised.

I shot backwards on my knees, Alex had gone completely mad!

But the clingy dress wrapped around my thighs, pulling me to a stop. The crowd roared as he followed with a determined grin. He sent my lamp flying into the wings, eliciting a shocked scream from someone standing there, and wrestled me over his lap. ‘This is going to hurt me, honey, more than it's going to hurt you.'

I growled a threat, ‘Alex, don't you …' But he still slapped my butt hard anyway.

Someone off-stage suggestively extinguished the rest of the lights.

The audience laughed itself sick, and the curtains slammed shut again.

I bit Alex hard in the leg.

He yelped and started pushing me off his lap.

Alex wasn't drunk! I'd seen his face, as he grabbed me. He was out to sabotage my chance with Plautius! Bastard.

Silently Philemon and Creon peeled us apart like two quarrelling cats, and Horace stood between us before I could start swinging.

Philemon and Horace dragged me around the corner for the next change, a purple burial tunic.

Whispering, Philemon implored me to just get on with it.

Scene three and I was on my back again. Seething.

Fuck Alex! He was being so clever. making sure Plautius rejected me. Well there was going to be a real surprise ending. For him, as well as everyone else!

The curtains opened to hushed silence. The audience seemed to be wondering what was going to happen next, too.

Alex walked in, and sat next to me on my pseudo-stone pillar. He was supposed to awaken me from death with a kiss.

His hands softly brushed my hair away from my face, then lifted my wrist to smell the perfume. Kissed it gently and clasped my hand over his heart. The beat was strong, but rapid.

The crowd sighed.

I opened my eyes. Just a slit was enough.

Alex's face was inches from mine when he started speaking. And again it was not the set lines. ‘Wake up, love. Death has given you back to me. Nothing will keep me away from you now. Not the gods. Not time itself.'

More sighs from the audience.

Death. I was supposed to be dead. Just as I feared Victoria might be.

The thought pierced me. Then a wet tongue softly licked my wrist, cutting into my train of thought. A hot, moist mouth enclosed my index finger, gently sucking it.

More sighs, but of a different kind.

A tongue swirled in my palm. It was worse with my eyes half shut. I shivered again, and the whole front row grunted its approval.

A weird assortment of emotions shifted through me. The last time anyone had touched me with tenderness had been the weekend I spent with Yuki before she died. I'd been sitting on the deck, playing with Spud. She was still a puppy then. Out of the blue Yuki had enfolded us both in a hug. As though …

Suddenly it was all I could do not to push him off me. I didn't want to feel any of this.

But oh, the wet softness felt so good.

The audience must've been just as enthralled. They were silent now.

Alex softly kissed either side of my mouth, then gently pushed apart my lips with his. The kiss. Cupid had given Psyche back her life.

My eyes snapped open. Time for Psyche to wake up from the dead.

I sat bolt upright. Stretching. ‘I feel much better, Cupid. But, I think I want a divorce!'

The front row saw the fire in my eyes as I lunged for Alex. The Ludi men whooped a battle cry, while Alex had just enough time to dive sideways off the pillar.

I stood.

Plautius wanted a serious gladiatrix? Well, he was going to see one here tonight, if I had to take Domitia's little theatre apart to do it!

Alex knew exactly what was on my mind, and didn't want to be the vehicle for making a good impression on Plautius. He sprinted across the stage, then sprang cat-like off the end over the heads of three particularly well-dressed members of the audience, his leap turned into a somersault, and he landed running.