Heart of the Gladiator (Affairs of the Arena Book 1) (11 page)

Within moments, the brawl was reduced to little more than a din. Guards began to guide Caius away and push Flamma back to his table.

But in the dispersal, Cammedius rose and smashed a bowl against a table, giving himself a makeshift blade. Caius felt him attack more than he saw it. The pottery shard slid deep into the meat of Caius’s thigh and he roared in pain.

He gave Cammedius a kick to his head for his trouble, knocking the man cold. The din in the mess hall only increased. More guards were called in, and the smarter gladiators hit the floor. The less smart ones were put on the floor by the guards, who had the advantage in weapons and armor.

After that, the meal was over, and everyone was locked into their cells.

––––––––

N
o matter the occasion or time of day, it always surprised Aeliana when Porcia decided to drop in to her office. Aeliana had just finished a small dinner of cabbage and pears. Drifting sunlight peeked over the walls of the ludus and into her dim office, where she only had one brazier lit.  Her appetite had never been very large—another reason her father supposed her so very weak.

“Domina,” she said, standing and bowing her head. “How can I assist you?”

Porcia did not answer at first, drifting through her office. She glided around the table in the center of the room, examining the many boxes and jars of tinctures, herbs, and powders. Taking a moment, she bent deeply at the hips, sniffing at the table.

“It smells like blood in here, Medicae.”

“Yes, Domina. That is standard for an office such as in a place such as this.”

“Do you like the smell of blood? It’s so...metallic. Coppery. You can tell with just one whiff why sacrifices were thought to bring riches, long ago. The ancient peoples had many such notions I am told.”

“I would not know of such things, Domina.”

She actually had some extensive knowledge of ancient peoples, and would have gleefully expounded on them with someone who actually shared an interest with her. Claudius's histories of the Etruscan people fascinated her thoroughly. But she suspected that, as in most things, Porcia was divulging her information just to assert her superiority.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“About the smell of blood, Domina? I do not like it very much.”

“And yet you are here.”

“A slave works where she must.”

“And
as
she must, yes? As you have. For me. Which I do appreciate.” She smiled. Most likely she thought the expression a gift to Aeliana. It was a mask of warmth and pleasantness. Aeliana expected it worked beautifully on men. Perhaps looks like that were the reason Rufus was so very much in love with her. “You have done much for me as of late.”

“Thank you, Domina. It is my pleasure to serve.”

It wasn’t, but words had a habit of taking on several shades of duplicity when Porcia was concerned. It was a pleasure not to be beaten for disobeying an order, at the least.

“Your contract of service expires in about a year. Is that right?”

“Yes, Domina. A little less than that.”

Nervousness struck Aeliana. Where was this going? Had Porcia heard of her father’s offer already?

“And when this is over, do you expect you will stay behind? Will you continue to serve this House?”

“I...”

“You can tell me if you don’t like it here, dear. I’m no big fan of it myself.”

“Yes. Well.” Aeliana smiled. People, no matter their background, tended to respond well to honesty. Or at least, this was what she was raised to believe. So, she tried some now. “Were I to leave, I would seek out a loan of some sort on top of my own wages. With that, I would like to rent—or even purchase—a taberna. A small one at first.”

“You hope to open a shop? As an apothecary?”

“As a medicae. There are not many offices that serve the freedmen or the slaves in the city. Or rather, if there are any, I don’t know of them. I would like to change that.”

“Why, that’s wonderful!” A flutter of laughter escaped Porcia’s mouth. “That is a tall task for a woman, I expect. And a freed slave. But as you wouldn’t be seeking above your station, I don’t see you encountering
that
much trouble. You’d want to keep a guard, of course. Perhaps two. Night and day. People tend to steal the supplies of a medicae and sell them for their own purposes. A nasty business.”

Aeliana’s mouth shifted slightly. Was Porcia being self-aware or not? “Of course, Domina.”

“That is a nice dream. I should like to help you with it.”

“D-Domina?”

That winning smile returned again. “Don’t act so surprised. We may be separated by class and distinction. And beauty.” She paused. “And just, general poise and the like. But we are still women. I do not believe a woman should be in this sort of place unless she absolutely has to. So.” she grabbed Aeliana’s hands. Porcia’s were soft and perfumed. Never a hard day’s work in her life. “Here is what we shall do. You are going to do me a favor. And in return, I shall make sure that you don’t get sold off somewhere else at the end of your term. And I shall make sure that the loan you require shall be arranged. How about that?”

“That sounds...amazing, Domina. Thank you!” She swallowed. “What do you ask in return? How can I help?”

Porcia drew away. For all the world, Aeliana felt like a fly sliding deeper into a spider’s trap. “Ah, that. It’s a
nasty
bit of business, I suppose. In short order, someone will come in here telling you that one of the new gladiators, Caius, has been stabbed. Not lethally, don’t worry. In the leg, I’m told. I’m not asking you to let him
die
. I just want him not to
heal
. Not properly, anyway. Is that all right?”

The notion stabbed deep into her, a feeling that she couldn’t help but find ironic.

“Bu-but
why
, Domina? I don’t understand.”

“Nevermind the why.” Porcia’s face became a threatening cloud. “That is beyond your station. Suffice it to say I do not require him to be well.”

“But the Dominus, forgive me—but the Dominus has tasked me with looking after
all
his fighters. Were I to do this—”

Porcia waved a hand. “Do not trouble yourself with the Dominus. I shall make sure you are beyond blame. If anyone asks, tell them that Caius refused treatment.”

“And if Caius asks?”

“Tell him whatever you like. Tell him you don’t like the look of his face. Just don’t tell him the truth. He doesn’t deserve such things.”

Aeliana struggled not to yell. That very much wasn’t true.

“Domina, I cannot do this. If a man is hurt, it is my duty not just as a medicae, but as a
person
to help him. I cannot—”

Porcia held up a long, slender finger. “Ah. I see. No, I see very well. You want to stay here. You were lying before about your dreams. I see entirely. You want to help Caius, and you want to stay here for double your current term. Perhaps even triple? Perhaps call it an even twenty years. Yes. I like that. Why, given that length of time, you might even die here. But your family will receive a
tidy
sum for your efforts, don’t worry.” She paused, clearly enjoying the growing horror on Aeliana’s face. “Or, perhaps I’m mistaking your tone. Perhaps this is all a gentle misunderstanding.” She took Aeliana’s hands once again. “Do we understand one another, slave?”

Aeliana looked down. The ground was covered with dirt. It was all dirt in this place. All so dirty.

“Yes, Domina.”

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T
he wound in his leg burned like the fires of Tartarus. The cut was deep and jagged, but the shard had been lodged firmly in the meat of his thigh. One bit of luck there—it had not cut through any major arteries or veins.

There was blood, but now, hours after the wound, it no longer poured as quickly as it had before. Instead, the wound seeped quietly. He had tied a spare rag around it to stem its tide, but now the rag was covered in wet redness. It needed proper treatment.

What on earth kept Aeliana? It wasn’t like her to wait this long before treating him. Murus had told him he’d sent a man to fetch her hours ago.

Light in the cell block dimmed, soon to go out entirely. Torches were lit late in the afternoon, and once they were out, they would not be lit again until the following afternoon. Any man caught awake by the guards after that time was due for a beating.

Shadows and light footsteps caught his attention. He sat up on his cot, grimacing. Moving caused shoots of pain down his leg and up his back.

“Aeliana? Is that you?” The shadows stopped. “Aeliana, please. You must not have heard. My leg is hurt. I require your expertise.”

The shadow still did not move.

“Medicae? Is that you?”

She approached past the portal to his cell now, her head hooded and her face cast in shadow.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Can you help me? I’m in agony.”

The words seemed to strike her somehow, made her crunch in on herself.

“I’m sorry, Caius. I’m here to see other patients.”

“Then, after them?” he hoped.

“No, Caius.”

“No?” He scoffed. “What do you mean, no? What does that mean? What are you...” She stepped backward, and a great anger rose up in him. “By Pluto’s great burning ass, woman, I’m in pain. You’re the medicae. Treat me!”

She swallowed, her voice gathering steel. “No, Caius.”

“Then tell me why. Did I offend you? Did I wrong you, somehow? Did I—”

His voice was approached a roar. He took a breath, calming himself. He did not want that anger. It had taken years of his life to master it. There was no reason to call it back now just because of a gash in his leg.

No, no, that all made sense now. She did not want to treat him. Of course not.

She had seen what he was—a savage among savages. The one with the nicest smile, perhaps. Maybe she had decided she wanted to hurt him to teach him a lesson, to keep him away. It didn’t matter.

Fortune once again had thrown him a bone, only to keep it on a wire, ready to pull back at a moment’s notice.

This was his life, and for all the wrongdoing he had committed, he knew he deserved it.

“Go on, then.”

She stepped forward, her hood dropping behind her head. “Caius, I truly am—”

“Didn’t you hear me? I said go on. I’ll make it easy for you. I don’t
want
you to treat me. I don’t want you here. I don’t want to
see
you. Get out.”

At that, he knew he had stepped too far. But the words were already thrown, and he could not retrieve them. Her face contorted with a heavy mix of emotion, and she drew her hood back up. Following his instructions, she left.

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T
hree years ago, Caius stepped through the gates from the arena back into the underbelly, soaking in the last few roars of the crowd as he exited. The crowd in Puteoli—and probably across the Empire—was always hungry for spectacle. Already today they had seen chariot races and an extended lion hunt, as well as a bestiarius fighting a wolf and boar chained to one another.

His own fight was not for several more hours, but part of the arena tradition was to show gladiators before they fought. First, their bodies would be presented—row after row of rugged, ripped exemplars of masculinity, every man doing his best to be more impressive than the last. Even an ugly man stood a chance to be a crowd favorite if he worked hard enough on his body and skill.

Caius was never the most handsome of men, but his face had a certain nobility to it, and that—combined with his martial ability and density of his muscle and bone—earned him many admirers from the crowd. Though of course the only admirer he ever cared about was Fabiana.

The halls beneath the arena were emptier now. The beasts for the day had been used up and chopped apart, and all the prisoners condemned to death had been put to the sword. Now, beneath, all who remained were the various arena attendants and the gladiators.

“Ursus,” came a voice. “Might I have a word?”

Caius turned. Calling after him was a young man, bald and pale. He looked to be Vox’s brother. “Yes?”

“I am Felix. A gladiator, like you. My brother is the man you face tonight.”

“I see.”

“You’re lucky you don’t face me. I’ve studied you. I know your tricks.”

Such boisterous posturing was a necessary element of talk between gladiators of rival schools.

“And I’m sure you’ve told him everything you know. It will be a good fight.”

Felix’s voice hushed down low. “I ask you a favor, gladiator.”

“I’m listening.”

“With the winnings from today’s fight, my brother hopes to purchase his freedom, and perhaps my own as well.”

Freedom was the talk of the day, it seemed. Caius had finagled with Rufus for months to have his freedom put on the line for the fight. The only way he'd do it is if he made a fortune in the process—and with a fight between Ursus and Vox, two of the continent's top fighters, that fortune was all but assured.

“If you think I’m going to throw the fight, you’re mad. We’re all trying to win our freedom here.”

That, and glory, and honor, and fame. But the shine of those had left Caius for some time now.

“No. That’s not what I meant. What I meant to express was...he and I are close. We prefer one another alive.”

“Does he know you make this plea?”

“No. He wouldn't stomach it. He would have tied me up.”

As would have Caius if someone did the same for him. There was dishonor in asking for mercy before a fight.

“All brothers want each other to live. A pity you arrived in a ludus.”

Felix twisted his hands. “If it is possible, I’d like for him to live. If it is possible,” he said again, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you have anyone you care about?”

Caius did. He wondered if Fabiana, somehow caught under the arena in this pen—and didn’t
that
make his stomach turn over—would try to make the same deal.

“I can promise very little,” said Caius.

“I understand that.”