Seduced by the Gladiator (12 page)

“Gratitude.” I accepted the cup, but I did not sit. I was full of nervous energy, and the implacable stare that my owner had fixed upon me was only exacerbating it.

“Lilia, you have already been chosen to compete in the Battle of Gaius.” The news hit me like a blow—after the reaction of the men outside, it was information that I had not been expecting.

“So soon? Did the man not announce his games just this afternoon?” I swallowed thickly, found my mouth dry, and drank deeply from the cup that the dominus had poured for me.

The man seemed troubled, and his emotion made me apprehensive.

“Lilia, when we saw Gaius in the market today—I do not think that that was an accident.” He peered into his own cup, as if hoping to find answers in its ruby depths.

“I do not understand.” I thought back to the brief flash that I had seen of the man, hidden as he was behind the curtain that decorated his litter. The only thing about what I had assumed was a chance encounter that had stuck with me was the excitement that I had seen on the man’s face. “And if you knew of this earlier, in the market, why did you not speak plainly then?”

I had dismissed the look on the strange man’s face as excitement over seeing a gladiator outside the walls of the arena—many patricians had the very same reaction. I had not thought more about it. But now I saw that that excitement could have a far more sinister meaning for me.

“I was not permitted to do so, by order of Gaius himself.” The dominus seemed to consider his words before he again spoke. “I think that his excitement at seeing you today, in the flesh, has made him move rather more quickly than he had originally intended to. I believe that Gaius first became aware of you after your win in the munera that were held to celebrate the wedding of Lucius Quintus Manius and his second wife, Miriama, daughter of Baldurus. Your show of strength that day impressed many, I think, but he is the only one who spoke to me of it after.”

I remembered that day well—I had not fought alone, but with Bavarius and one of his friends. They had tried to send me to my death at the hands of the gigantic beast of a man we had been fighting.

I had not died. I had killed the man myself, and made my two ludus brothers appear the fools.

“Do you recall that there was a party afterwards, to toast the newlyweds? The victors of the day, including yourself, were there to provide demonstrations. In fact, Christus was there, albeit briefly, due to injury. I do not think the two of you met.” It was not uncommon for a gladiator to be invited to attend the party of a patrician, especially one with a win freshly in his belt, though we were not considered guests. Often we merely stood in a line at the side of the room as decoration, something for the rich to admire, to ponder, to discuss. Other times we fought one on one, with wooden training swords for the safety of the patricians. Often the male gladiators were approached by women at the party who wanted the pleasure of their bodies, though the decision belonged not to them, but to their dominus.

That particular party had remained in my mind because, for the first time, it had not been one of my brothers who was approached, but myself. Still somewhat new to the ludus, and still raw from my treatment at the hands of Bavarius, I had not understood much of the unspoken expectations.

I had learned quickly that, as a slave, I was to follow the orders of those higher in class than myself, whether they were my dominus or not. A man called Brutus had told me to go with him, and so I went. When he had moved to lead me from the hall in which the party was being held, Darius had pulled me back. His excuse had been that the dominus would not permit me to be touched in such a way. It had been the start of my friendship with the man, for he had saved me when he did not have to.

It had made quite a scene. Brutus had not been pleased to have what he wanted taken away. My dominus did not care for the man, and would not give me to him. I had been the uncontested center of attention for the entire night, the gladiator that the rich fought over.

“Gaius was at that party.” I tilted my head, certain that I would have remembered the handsome man with the eyes of a snake, but I did not. “The scene with Brutus brought you to his attention.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as I let my memory take over. Perhaps it would have been better for me to just go with Brutus that evening. Perhaps it meant that I would not have been standing where I was now.

“Since that day, every time that I have met the man, he has spoken of you—sometimes no more than just a slip of your name, said in passing.” Frowning, the dominus swirled his wine in his cup, contemplating it for so long that I might have screamed, had my throat not been so dry.

“For weeks now, I have suspected that he has had a man in our ludus passing along details of your life, your comings and goings.” My stomach lurched.

I did not like the idea of being watched. The trapped sensation that I felt whenever anyone came too close to me—anyone save my friend Darius, and now Christus—rose, and I tried to swallow down the panic that accompanied it.

“Why?” I truly did not understand. “I am a slave.”

The dominus’ eyes narrowed a bit at my words, and I knew that he had not cared much for my description of myself. There were Romans—few of them, and far between—who had an affection for their slaves. I knew that my master had such a feeling for me. I also knew, though, that these affections were akin to one that a person might feel for an animal. We were still not quite people, no matter how well we were treated.

The dominus might have soft feelings toward me, but it was because in a group of rough, dirty men, I was different, if only because I possessed a cunt rather than a cock, and because I brought coin to the household.

Still, I was grateful for his warning, and told him so, though I did not see what I could possibly do about it.

“Lilia, I do not think that you quite understand.” The dominus raked a hand through his dark hair, and I saw for the first time that it was threaded with gray. “I think that Gaius has built his entire battle around you.”

I stared, not sure that I believed the words. “That cannot be.”

I had never actually met the man. The closest that I had ever been to him was earlier that day, in the market.

“I do know what game he is playing, Lilia, but you need to be careful. You have the strength, the skill to win this.” Days earlier, I would have felt pride at the words from my master. Now I felt only panic. “But the other participants will have been handpicked by Gaius, all to serve whatever purpose he has in mind for you. They will be perhaps not as skilled as you, but they will be bigger, they will be strong, and above all, they will not fight fairly.”

The words struck precisely where the man had intended them to—in my pride.

“I would rather die than fight without honor.” The words came automatically to my lips, but as soon as I had spoken them, I doubted their sincerity.

Something had passed between myself and Christus, something that had linked us together. No matter how I fought it, there was a part of me that insisted that I should do whatever I could to win, simply so that I could return to his arms again.

Never mind that anything between us could never work, not in the end. My desires cared nothing for my reason.

“Gratitude for your caution, Dominus. I am indebted to you.” I studied the troubled man before me. Undoubtedly he would make piles of denarii from participating in these games, and yet he still seemed troubled—troubled at the thought of me ensnared in the net of the emperor’s brother.

It spoke of his character, and told me that perhaps I was worth a hint more to him than an animal, after all. With that thought uppermost in my mind, I wanted to ease his troubles, if only a bit.

“Do not concern yourself with my well-being, Dominus. I will return home.” I nodded with much more confidence than I felt. If the game were to be a fair one, one where the smartest and strongest triumphed, then I knew, truly knew, that I could win.

I was not good at deception, was not good at games. Whatever Gaius had planned, I did not have any hope that I would be able to figure it out.

The dominus managed a small smile, but he appeared wearier than I had ever seen him.

“As your pater familias, your well-being is fully my responsibility, Lilia.” Lifting his cup to his mouth, he drained the contents in one large gulp, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “However, my power has its limits. I cannot go against the brother of the emperor. All I can do is pray to the gods to keep you safe.”

C
hristus was sitting on his bedroll, his head cradled in his hands, when I entered our private chambers. The evening meal was being served, but I yet again had no appetite.

“You have been chosen, have you not?” He stood, the muscles of his legs taut with tension as he strode over to me and wrapped me in his embrace.

For the first time, I did not protest, did not struggle. There was no point in bothering with pretense now.

“The dominus thinks that Gaius has arranged these games around me.” The words fell from lips that felt numb from both wine and shock. I blinked rapidly, thinking that perhaps one of these times my vision would clear and things would return to how they had been.

They did not.

“You cannot go. You must fake being ill.” Pushing away from me, Christus began to pace the small room. Anger was evident in his every movement, and for the first time I saw how truly oppressive he found his life as a slave.

This big, strong man would never accept a life of servitude. No, he belonged out in the open, free of chains.

A person with as pure a soul as his should never have been caged.

“I cannot. Even the dominus cannot help the decision.” Inhaling deeply, I tangled my hands in my hair and tugged, savoring the bite of pain. “All I can do is what I always have—I can fight. I have the potential to be champion, Christus, and you know it. Maybe I can win.”

Clearly frustrated, the man spun back around and, in an instant, had my upper arms in his hands, lifting me off of the ground.

“You shine in the arena, Lilia, there is no one who can doubt that. But in the arena, you fight in a group, or you fight one man at a time. Here, the mere fact that you are strong may have the others deciding to eliminate you first. They won’t fight fair, and you won’t do anything but.”

For the first moment since the games had been announced, fear became the most predominant of my emotions. It slithered, cold and sinister like a snake about to strike, down my spine, around my waist, before settling into a taut coil in my belly.

“I . . .” I opened my mouth, to say what I was not sure. Perhaps I meant to tell Christus of my feelings, or perhaps only to speak of the sense of hopelessness that I was feeling, the feeling of entrapment.

Then I was in Christus’ arms, held tight, his mouth devouring my own. I was not startled—I had been expecting it. Anticipating it.

What I felt, he felt also. A connection, stretched taut between us, one that neither had been expecting and that I was not sure I could ever break.

“Wait a moment.” My breath panted out as Christus tore himself away from me momentarily. Striding quickly to first one door, and then to the other, he fastened them with the leather thongs that ensured us a measure of privacy.

“It’s dark in here.” The heavy door thudded in its wooden frame as Christus closed it behind him. Jittery nerves warred with a dark thrill as he brushed against me in the narrow confines of the small room.

“I don’t need light.” Reaching up a trembling hand to smooth over my windblown ponytail, I swallowed, unsure of what to do, what move to make. I had never before been in a situation like this, where need was rapidly overcoming common sense.

Christus caught my hand as I tugged nervously on the hem of my subligaculum. “I like looking at you in the shadows.”

“Oh.” How inarticulate could I be? But my mind was taken up with thoughts of touching Christus, of running my hands over his skin. His naked skin.

One final time, I tried to remind myself that this—whatever this was between us—was not a good thing. We would be vilified among the nastier of our brothers, and Christus might become a target, as I was. We would seem weak—or at the very least, I alone would.

In that moment I realized that I no longer cared. I had decided what I wanted. My reservations had been burned away with Christus’ persistence. It seemed futile to deny any longer what I wanted so badly, especially with the threat of these epic games looming over my head.

Unsure of what else to do, I took a step toward the small wooden table, where I had noticed that a small clay pitcher of wine and two cups had been placed. “Would you like some wine?” I again toyed with the length of my hair, all the while feeling the almost touch of Christus’ hard body at my back.

“Why do we have wine?” One finger, just one, touched the soft skin at the nape of my neck, then trailed down the length of my spine. I gasped, stiffened, then arched into the unexpected and delicious touch.

“I . . . I do not know.” I did know—I was certain that the dominus had ordered one of the house slaves to place it in this room, a gift to ease the sting of what he had just told me.

“Do not lie.” The questing finger fell away, and after a huge breath in which I tried to compose myself, I moved the rest of the distance to the table. Before pouring the wine, I dipped my hands into the bowl of water that sat beside the pitcher. It was warm, not cool as I wished. Though it did not refresh with a chill, it was at least wet, and washed the dust and the perspiration from nerves away from my skin.

Christus waited until I had poured us each a large cupful of what taste revealed to be mulsum, strong wine mixed with honey. I was glad that I had managed to pour without spilling, for my hands were shaking with nerves from the dominus’ words, and with anticipation and desire over Christus’ touch.

I sipped at my wine after handing Christus his cup, chugged at it actually, I was so anxious. I did not know if he had touched his—I would not look at him, and I could not hear over the racing of my own heart.