A Gladiator's Oath

by Tanya Bird

  ‘That explains a lot about you.’

  ‘It does? Like what?’

  He checked their surroundings, worried someone would recognise them. ‘Your snobbery, for one.’

  ‘My snobbery?’

  ‘I’m not finished. Your rebellious nature. The fancy way you talk. Your detachment from the real world.’

  ‘I am still stuck on snobbery.’

  He grinned. ‘You think you’re better than other slaves, that you deserve more.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, no, no. The only difference between me and other slaves is that I have figured a way out of this life.’

  They fell silent for a moment.

  ‘I have always wanted to see an elephant,’ she said, ‘but not watch it die in the arena.’

  He studied her serious face. ‘Maybe I’ll take you to India one day.’

  ‘You could go right now. What are you waiting for?’

  He did not have a good answer. ‘Felix isn’t a fan of spicy foods.’

  Mila glanced behind her to where Albaus and Nero stood waiting for her to catch up. He did not want to her go.

  ‘Until tomorrow,’ he said, turning away again.

  She raised a hand. ‘Good day, Remus Latinius.’

  Chapter 19

  Judging by the way Aquila had prepared the house, one might have thought Nerva had just become emperor rather than a mere senator.

  Mila stood against the wall, still as the artwork framing her, going to great efforts not to look at Nerva for fear she would burst out laughing at the ridiculous fuss being made.

  The guests gathered in the triclinium, lounging in comfort while admiring the food laid out before them. The furnishings had been reupholstered and were covered with colourful cushions made from the finest materials. The food was typical fare, but more of it than necessary for such a small party. Unsurprisingly, Aquila had skipped the inclusion of sow’s udder, opting instead for a pheasant dish that also happened to be Germana’s specialty.

  ‘Let us drink to Nerva, and all that he will do for Rome,’ Jovian said, raising his polished cup.

  ‘My cup seems to be empty,’ Aquila complained. A servant rushed forwards to fill it.

  Mila’s former domina had made a point of not looking at Mila the entire evening. Though slaves were generally invisible, Aquila had always ensured she felt it. This was her opportunity to remind Mila of her lowly status, in case she had somehow forgotten.

  ‘We are a few slaves down at the moment,’ Aquila explained. ‘Many caught the fever that seems to have swept through the city.’

  Prisca nodded. ‘We were not unscathed. However, my sons remain well, thank heaven.’

  ‘It is usually slaves who bring these diseases with them,’ Aquila said, ‘infecting the rest of the household.’

  Mila risked a glance at Nerva, who was staring into his drink. By the looks of him, he had not even heard. He seemed positively miserable.

  ‘Who made your cushions?’ Prisca asked, running a hand over the luxurious fabric. ‘The detail in them is to die for.’

  Now it was Aquila’s turn to stare into her cup.

  ‘Our seamstress,’ Rufus said, answering on behalf of his wife.

  Prisca’s eyes widened in feigned surprise. ‘Really? Let us bring her out so I might ask her about them.’

  Aquila looked up at that. ‘Really, Prisca, they are just cushions. Any competent seamstress could whip them up for you.’

  ‘We do not need more pillows about the place,’ Jovian said, casting a knowing look at Rufus.

  ‘If I am to endure a house stuffed with pillows, then so shall you,’ Rufus replied. He turned to one of the servants. ‘Ask Tertia to come here.’

  Mila stiffened and Nerva sat a little straighter, glancing at his mother, then at Mila. The guests filled their cups and picked at the tray of cured meats.

  Finally Tertia entered the room, stopping a safe distance from everyone. She glanced at Mila before addressing Rufus. ‘You asked to see me, Erus?’

  ‘Actually, I did,’ Prisca said, propped up on one elbow. ‘I have been admiring your work.’ She ran a hand over one of the cushions. ‘Your dominus tells me you created these yourself.’

  The women chatted back and forth for a few moments while the men spoke among themselves. Aquila picked at the food on offer, eventually waving the servant holding the tray away.

  ‘All right,’ she said, losing patience. ‘Let the woman return to her work. That is what she is here for.’

  Tertia looked to Rufus, who nodded. She bowed her head and turned to leave.

  ‘Mila,’ Prisca said, looking over her shoulder. ‘Would you like a few moments with your mother before we depart?’

  Tertia slowly turned back around, her hopeful gaze returning to Rufus.

  ‘Only if it is not an inconvenience to the household,’ Mila said, ensuring she said all the right things.

  ‘I am afraid it is,’ Aquila said. ‘Tertia has much work to do. The social gathering is for us, not those who serve us.’

  Prisca’s expression did not change, always smiling despite contrary thoughts.

  ‘Mother,’ Nerva said, leaning forwards. ‘Surely they can have a moment together.’

  Aquila pretended to look confused. ‘The work will not do itself. Is that not right, Rufus?’ She was practically holding her breath as she waited for his reply.

  Rufus exhaled and took a long drink from his cup. All eyes were on him. He signalled for more wine. ‘Perhaps the girl can speak with her mother while she is doing her work.’ He kept his eyes on the servant pouring the wine.

  The girl. Mila replayed the words in her head.

  Aquila’s face tightened, her mouth pinched in a way that made her look ten years past her forty years. She seemed to be waiting for Rufus to look at her, to heed her warning, but he would not raise his eyes from his cup. ‘Be quick about it,’ she said, turning to glare at Mila.

  Prisca seemed to be enjoying the tension, winking at Mila as she followed her mother from the room.

  The moment they were out of sight, Tertia hugged Mila to her. Neither of them spoke, simply enjoying the closeness they had missed over the past weeks. Eventually her mother pulled away and led Mila to the back of the house, to the familiar room she had shared with them her entire life. She found Dulcia lying on the bed, drawing with charcoal.

  ‘Dulcia,’ her mother said. ‘Look who is here.’

  Her sister turned, face lighting up. She scampered across the bed, leaping into Mila’s arms. ‘How long do you have?’

  ‘Just a few moments,’ Mila breathed. ‘Aquila was not pleased.’

  ‘Understandable,’ Tertia said, enjoying the sight of her daughters together.

  Mila looked at her. ‘Why is that understandable?’

  ‘Because she put a lot of work into the evening. It was supposed to be about her.’

  ‘It was supposed to be about Nerva, and he hates these gatherings.’

  Tertia smiled. ‘She is a proud mother.’

  Mila shook her head. ‘She is a lot of things.’

  Tertia tutted.

  ‘I do not want you to go,’ Dulcia said as Mila lowered her to the ground.

  ‘I know, but Nerva might bring you to see me again soon.’

  Tertia shook her head. ‘I shall pretend I did not hear that.’ The girls smiled at one another. ‘How is Lady Prisca treating you?’

  ‘Fine.’

  Tertia studied her. ‘Nerva told me about Ludus Magnus, that you are to fight at the Flavian Amphitheatre.’

  Hopefully that was all Nerva had told her. ‘It is one fight. If I win, Prisca has promised me freedom.’

  Tertia appeared sceptical. ‘Usually if it sounds too good to be true, it is.’ She watched as Dulcia settled herself on the bed. ‘What I would like to know is what does she get out of all this?’

  ‘The thrill of my victory.’ Seeing her mother’s face, she added, ‘She is not allowed to fight. I suppose this is the next best thing.
A nobody becoming somebody, as she would have done had her father let her.’

  ‘She is hardly a nobody. Her father is Celcus Heius.’

  Mila rolled her eyes. ‘Am I the only person who does not know who that man is?’

  Tertia reached up to tidy Mila’s hair. ‘You have as much interest in politics as I do in gladiators.’

  Dodging her mother’s hand, Mila said, ‘Well, Celcus Heius is a fool. I fought Prisca briefly, and she is excellent.’

  ‘You fought against your domina?’ Dulcia asked, eyes wide.

  Tertia shook her head again. ‘May the gods show mercy on you.’

  Mila kissed her sister and mother. ‘I should get back.’

  Tertia hugged her. ‘Tell me I have nothing to worry about.’

  Mila let the familiar scent warm her. ‘You have nothing to worry about.’ She was glad her mother could not see her face or she might have recognised the lie as quickly as Nerva had. It occurred to her that it might be the last time she was in her mother’s arms, and the thought made her tighten her grip for a moment.

  ‘You are getting so strong,’ Tertia said.

  Mila released her and stepped back. ‘I have a long way to go.’

  ‘But you will win?’ Dulcia said. ‘Then come for us?’

  Tertia stroked Dulcia’s hair. ‘Let Mila go. We do not want to get her into trouble.’

  Mila heard the disapproval in her mother’s voice. ‘Of course I will come back for you.’

  Dulcia looked relieved and her mother gave a tight smile.

  ‘Go,’ Tertia said, squeezing Mila’s hand. ‘And be careful.’

  As Mila followed the smell of pastry and spices, she tried to shake the feeling that she was implementing a plan her mother wanted no part of.

  Chapter 20

  Each day, Titus trained her near to death, and Remus tried to stay away. The few times he paused to watch, he ended up losing his temper, one time punching Titus in the face when he caught him poking Mila with the training pole while she was vomiting. The following day, Titus got his own by pairing Mila with a slave twice her size, and Mila asked Remus on their walk home to never help her again.

  It became their ritual. After training, they would meet near the tavern, he would spend a few moments examining her, cursing under his breath at every bruise and welt, and then he would walk her home. They would stop at the baker, and Remus would buy two lemon tarts. They would sit against the cool wall, sharing one pastry while watching Nero eat the other as though it were his last meal. Remus even offered to buy one for Albaus, but the bodyguard just grunted and looked away.

  It was two weeks out from the fight when Mila entered the Fadius house and found Prisca waiting for her, a smile frozen on her face.

  ‘You look very happy,’ she said. ‘Do I need to have a word with Titus?’

  Mila glanced at Sabina, who was standing against the wall, not looking at her. Never a good sign.

  ‘We must be doing something wrong if you are finishing the afternoon looking so… refreshed.’

  There was something in Prisca’s tone that warned Mila to consider her response carefully. Prisca kept going.

  ‘Was it a pleasant afternoon at Ludus Magnus?’

  Another glance at Sabina, hoping for a clue, but the body slave kept her gaze down. ‘No, Era. Every day is harder than the last.’

  Prisca moved closer, coming to a stop right in front of her. It was too close.

  ‘Goodness.’ She sniffed the air. ‘What is that smell?’

  Mila fought the urge to step back. ‘I was on my way to bathe—’

  Prisca held up a hand to silence her. ‘It is not a bad odour, but rather divine—like lemons.’

  Mila swallowed. Albaus shifted. Nero fidgeted. They all knew the explanation would not sit well with their domina. Prisca turned to the boy and clicked her fingers, signalling for him to step closer. He did as he was told. She bent to him, inhaling.

  ‘Nero,’ she said, remaining at his height. ‘What have you been eating?’

  ‘Nothing,’ replied the boy, unflinching in his lie.

  Mila closed her eyes. He was trying to protect her, but his lie would not end well for anyone.

  ‘Nothing?’ Prisca asked.

  That time Nero looked up at Mila, unsure. She gave the slightest nod.

  ‘Do not look at her, look at me,’ Prisca said, the song leaving her voice. ‘Why do you smell like pastries?’

  Nero cleared his throat. ‘Remus bought me one from the baker. After training, Mila’s legs shake. The food helps her.’

  Satisfied, Prisca straightened and looked at Mila. ‘There is no end to that man’s chivalry. Does he think I do not feed you?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  Her eyes moved over Mila, as though looking for answers. ‘Is there a reason Remus Latinius is accompanying you home every afternoon, walking all the way from Ludus Magnus, and spending his hard-earned coin buying you pastries?’

  When Mila glanced at Sabina that time, the girl finally met her gaze. There was an apology in her eyes. She realised then that Prisca already had the answers, she simply wanted Mila to confess.

  ‘He is a very generous man, and despite my objections, he seems to feel a sense of responsibility for my welfare.’ All those things were true.

  Prisca’s smile returned. ‘What a hero our Remus is, keeping Rome’s slaves safe on the streets. I must remember to thank him.’ She fixed the neckline of her garment, and then her gaze returned to Nero. ‘Now is as good a time as any to let you know that you will be leaving us.’

  Nero’s eyes widened, and Sabina took a step towards them.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Mila asked, her hand going to Nero’s shoulder.

  ‘The boy is to be sold,’ Prisca said, as though speaking of a horse.

  ‘Please,’ Sabina said, closing the distance between them. ‘Do not punish him.’

  Mila stared at her domina. ‘Punish him for what? He has done nothing wrong.’

  Nero stared at his hands.

  ‘You know as well as I that I cannot keep a slave who lies to my face.’

  Mila shook her head, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation. ‘He did not want me to get in trouble, that is all.’

  ‘That is all? Clearly you have lived a rather sheltered existence if you think you can finish that sentence with “that is all”. The boy must go.’

  ‘Over a pastry?’ Sabina cried.

  ‘Goodness, not you too. Do not upset yourself,’ Prisca said, feigning surprise at her reaction. She turned to Albaus. ‘And you are lucky you are mute. You are responsible for getting Mila safely to and from Ludus Magnus. If she cannot walk, you damn well carry her.’

  Sabina pulled Nero to her. ‘We don’t even know if he’s a slave. Turning him out is one thing, but to sell him?’

  ‘That orphan became my property the moment I took him in.’ She clicked her fingers and two men stepped into the room. ‘Take the boy.’

  Sabina stepped in front of him. ‘No!’

  Mila’s chest hurt at the sight before her.

  ‘Albaus, take Sabina out back,’ Prisca said, remaining calm. ‘She is to receive ten lashes for her insubordination. If she continues to carry on, double it.’

  Mila felt her insides fall to the floor. ‘She… she’s in pain enough.’

  Prisca turned to Mila. ‘This is not the arena. You cannot win this fight.’

  The boy was led away, knowing better than to struggle but unable to stop the tears falling down his young cheeks, a reminder that he was only a child. Albaus placed a giant hand on Sabina’s shoulder. She left with him, resigned and too heartbroken to care about ten lashes. Mila’s eyes met with the bodyguard’s. His expression mirrored her own.

  ‘Take her far enough so she does not disturb the household.’

  Mila blinked. ‘I will take the lashings on her behalf. The wrongdoing was mine.’

  Prisca stared at her. ‘I am well aware of your wrongdoings. While that is very
noble of you, I need you able to fight. But be assured of this, Titus will work you extra hard tomorrow.’

  Albaus led Sabina away and the room fell quiet for a moment. Mila felt as though she did not recognise the woman in front of her.

  ‘Do not look at me like that,’ Prisca said, smile long gone.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like I am one of them. I saw you look at Aquila that way.’

  Mila swallowed. She should have stayed quiet, said nothing. ‘You act like one of them.’

  Prisca flinched.

  Mila braced. Surely she would be sent off for a good lashing now. Perhaps she would be starved or sold. Something. Instead, Prisca said, ‘I should like to take a bath before dinner.’

  She walked away then, leaving Mila no choice but to follow after her.

  Chapter 21

  Sabina had come to Mila after her lashings and collapsed in a heap of tears. Mila had soothed her and washed her back, surprised to find only superficial wounds. Albaus had done the task half-heartedly. He was not the violent man many assumed him to be. Sabina’s tears were from the pain of losing Nero, not the beating. They learned he had been sold at the Graecostadium, likely stripped down on arrival, inspected, a placard placed around his neck detailing his origin and abilities. The idea made Mila sick to her stomach.

  The following day, she returned to Ludus Magnus and searched for Remus. She caught sight of him across the sand, signalling to him. He took in her expression, then turned to the men in charge, giving them instructions before making his way over to her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, eyes moving over her, checking for something visible.

  Titus watched them from the other side of the arena, so Mila wasted no time getting to the point. ‘Prisca sent Nero to the Graecostadium yesterday to be sold.’ She glanced at Albaus, who pretended he was not listening. ‘I do not know how to help him.’

  Remus closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Did something happen?’

  ‘Prisca knows that you have been walking us home. She got angry about the tarts, practically sniffing the boy’s breath. He lied at first, trying to protect me.’