Justina: Daughter of Spartacus (Justina Saga Book 1)

by Ryan Lew

  “Apologies Caesar,” Braccius said and bowed his head.

  Caesar seemed to return to his thoughts. “Yet, there does seem to be some crossing of destiny between this family and your soon-to-be emperor. Something that may be worth querying.”

  “What would you have me do, Caesar?”

  Caesar returned his attention directly to Braccius. “Arrange an audience with this butcher, and I will determine where his true allegiance lies.”

  “As you command. I will arrange a meeting this coming week.” Braccius saluted and exited the room, leaving Caesar to his thoughts.

  Caesar rubbed his chin, looked down at the parchment in front of him, then took his seat. Though he was first a warrior, his time with the senate had taught him the ways of a politician, and the one thing he had learned was to take advantage of opportunities that were laid before him. He couldn’t help but feel that one such opportunity had just occurred.

  Chapter 12

  Justina swiped the wooden gladius hard through the air, pulling it down in a cutting motion across her body. She raised it again and duplicated the motion in the opposite direction, then repeated the action again and again, pushing out a large breath of air with each swipe.

  The maroon dress lay draped unceremoniously over the end of her bed, the jewels scattered on her dressing table. It had not been a good day. Though it started out well, it had gone downhill quickly. Dinner had been ruined, and now she faced a full day of chores on the morrow. Even Fabricius was mad at her. She couldn’t blame him, though; she had promised to hold her tongue. Atilius makes it so hard. Now Justina was ending the day as it had begun, with practice sword in hand, only this time, she was in her undergarments.

  The lightest of knocks came on the door. It was so light, she almost didn’t hear it. She put down the sword, slipped on a cover, and went to the door. Antonia was on the other side.

  “Come in,” Justina said with a smile. Antonia was always a welcome sight, but more so after the day she had.

  “I will have to suffer Cato’s scolding if I’m discovered,” Antonia whispered. She looked over her shoulder as she entered the room.

  “Put your mind at ease.” Justina closed the door behind her. “I will make it quite clear to Cato that your company is always welcome regardless of what mother says, or time of hour.”

  Antonia stepped inside and stood next to the bed. She rubbed her hand up and down her arm, looking more at the floor than at Justina.

  “What occupies your mind so?” Justina asked.

  “I lay awake with many questions and thoughts,” Antonia started, but then paused. Her gaze remained on the floor. Antonia’s trepidation was evident, but it was certainly understandable. If her day was anything like Justina’s, Antonia would need to get it out. Justina decided to remain quiet and give her all the time she needed. After a few moments, Antonia looked up. “I know this is imposing, but I had to act upon my impulse.”

  “Come,” Justina said. “Sit. Tell me what vexes you at this hour.” She led Antonia to the bed. With everything going on in the house this day, a talk would do them both good.

  “I know I serve this house, but my thoughts continually turn to having your company,” Antonia explained. She looked down at her lap before continuing, “Cato is forever cautioning me to keep my place, my station, but something inside me speaks louder.”

  “Cato has good intentions for your safety. The death of Lucilius’ parents is ever present in every mind. Many people are on edge, and the situation is made even more unbearable by that brute living under our roof.” She took both of Antonia’s hands in hers. “You needn’t worry, Antonia, I never think of you as slave. You are sister to me.”

  Antonia looked up and smiled. “I feel the same way about you, Justina. I dream of a time when I can travel this country with you, not as your slave, but as your equal.”

  Justina went to hug her friend but Antonia’s embrace was hesitant. Justina pulled back. “I fear this is not all you have on your mind.”

  Antonia dropped her gaze.

  “Go on,” Justina said and moved a strand of Antonia’s hair behind her ear. “You can speak freely here.”

  Antonia smiled and nodded. “I wonder, did it bring you sorrow to hear of Fabricius killing a slave?”

  Justina knew what her friend wanted to hear. It was understandable. If Justina had been a slave, she would be worried as well. It was one thing to hear about the death of a slave, quite another to have the man responsible for that death living under the same roof.

  “I worry for my brother,” Justina said and squeezed Antonia’s hands. “I cannot explain the disparity between one person being born a Roman and another a slave. I only wish I knew how Lucilius’ family treated their slaves. If that treatment drove them to such desperation.” Justina placed a hand on Antonia’s chin and raised it until they were eye to eye. “Fabricius has always strived to treat you fairly, and he seems to truly care for your wellbeing. Yet, he is a Roman soldier, and as such is honor-bound by duty. As far as Roman law is concerned, his response was just, in light of the crime that was committed.”

  Antonia returned her gaze to her lap. It probably wasn’t the response she had hoped to hear, but it was the only one Justina was able to give her.

  “Your brother is strong and noble,” Antonia said. “He is most adept at caring for himself, and we all feel better with his presence.” Despite herself, Antonia blushed.

  Justina noticed.

  “Antonia, your cheeks turned red.”

  “It is very hot in here,” she replied and brought her hands to her face.

  “Hot with desire, I’d wager,” Justina joked with a smile. “I can’t blame you, though. He is something to look at.”

  “Much better than Atilius.” The two girls laughed.

  The reverie was suddenly broken when the door burst open. There stood Atilius with Lucilius by his side. Startled, Antonia screamed out. Justina was more angry than surprised.

  “What are you doing, Atilius?” she yelled at her brother. “How dare you enter my bedchamber without announcement or invitation!”

  Atilius strode into the room and picked up the wooden gladius Justina had left on the bed. He took a couple of wild practice swings, then eyed the blade before swinging the sword once again. His movements were disjointed, as if he was not in complete control of his limbs.

  Justina stood and faced her intruders. A familiar odor assaulted her senses. “You reek of wine,” she said and pointed to the door. “Get out!”

  Atilius ignored his sister’s command. “Although we have no blood between us, Justina,” he bent forward and pointed the gladius at her face, “and if not for my father, you might just be a common slave.” Atilius had trouble keeping the sword steady as he spoke. But he managed to get himself to stand erect, at least for a moment, as he continued, “I still must demand that as a member of this household, you act as a lady and divorce yourself from the notion that befriending slaves is the Roman way.”

  “What I do is my concern, and my concern alone, brother. And my birth father, a Legatus in the Roman Army, would have me far removed from being a slave. Me being your sister can only serve to promote your own station with the ladies.”

  Antonia chuckled but quickly covered her mouth.

  Atilius turned to Antonia and almost fell forward. “You find this funny, slave?”

  “Apologies Dominus,” Antonia said with bravado. “But it would seem you are wasting time playing with a wooden sword. Would it not be more satisfying playing with each other’s swords?”

  Justina turned quickly to Antonia, eyes wide. Antonia was sitting erect on the bed, smiling broadly. This was not good. Having two drunken men in the room was not the time to hurl insults delivered by a slave, and Justina knew it. She tried to snatch the sword from Atilius’ grasp, but he pulled it away before she could get a good grip. As Atilius turned to face her, Lucilius crossed the room toward Antonia.

  “Tomorrow at dawn, we will watch your
kind take their last breath as they hang on the cross,” Lucilius said through slurred speech. “Of course, you, slave, will be cleaning up my shit, but your girlfriend will behave as a proper Roman and join us.”

  Justina made a move toward Antonia, but Atilius, suddenly clear of action, cut off her only path to the bed. She glanced at Antonia, trying to get her attention, but Antonia wasn’t looking at her. She was focused on Lucilius, defiantly facing their intruders. She was not understanding the situation. Not understanding the danger that was present. With her only path cut off, Justina tried another tactic. “While you may be living under this roof, Lucilius, you are not in position to dictate my actions. My mother has already reserved my morning with chores. Apologies, but I will be unable to join you in the task of hurling rocks at helpless slaves.”

  Atilius suddenly dropped the sword and lunged at his sister. Before she could react, he got himself behind her and took her in a chokehold, twisting her arm behind her back.

  Antonia gasped and pulled her legs up onto the bed, binding them with her arms. The danger had just turned real. While Atilius and Justina had matched swords in the sparring room, this was the first time he had attacked her physically. Caught off guard, Justina struggled to call out to Antonia, to tell her to run, but Atilius was holding her far too tight and when she tried to speak, he tightened his hold on her neck.

  Lucilius bent down and picked up the fallen sword. “I will not challenge your mother’s wishes for your morning plans,” he said and flipped the weapon to hold it by the blade. “However, the afternoon will see the three of us to the town square.”

  Justina fought to free herself but couldn’t break Atilius’ grasp. The blood was rushing from her face, and she could feel herself growing faint when Atilius suddenly loosened his hold on her neck.

  “You better agree to go, Justina,” he said. “If you know what’s good for you.”

  Justina sucked in a great breath, then called out to Antonia, but before she could form the words, Atilius reapplied his hold, again cutting off her air.

  “Agree!” he repeated and slightly released the pressure on her neck.

  Justina barely got a breath in. “No!” she spat out. “Antonia run!”

  Her breath was stolen once again.

  “Oh, you will go,” Lucilius said, then jumped to the bed. Before Antonia could react, Lucilius had her by the wrist and pulled her to the ground. Unable to catch herself, she fell to her knees. Lucilius slammed the hilt of the wooden sword across her back. Antonia screamed out in pain.

  Atilius laughed.

  Justina could feel his grip loosen. She slid a hand under his arm, creating a buffer to her neck. The act allowed her to regain her breath. While both Lucilius and Atilius concentrated on Antonia, Justina lifted her leg high and slammed her heel down on top of her brother’s foot. He yelled out. Justina took advantage of his distraction and pushed him hard against the wall. His grip slipped, but before she could get herself turned around, Atilius regained his grip on her arm and cranked it hard behind her back. Pain shot up through her shoulders.

  “She almost bested you,” Lucilius said.

  Atilius tightened his grip. Justina’s arm began to tingle.

  With Antonia still kneeling, Lucilius raised his arm high in the air and prepared to strike another blow. “If you want this to stop, you need just agree to join us tomorrow,” he said to Justina, then hit Antonia a second time. She cried out.

  “Leave her alone, you son of a jackal!” Justina screamed as she fought in vain to get free. “You will pay for this! Both of you! I swear!”

  Lucilius laughed and hit Antonia a third time. The blow broke her skin, and the wound began to bleed. Antonia sobbed heavily.

  “Stop! Stop!” Justina cried. The fight fell from her, and she started to sob. With little choice left, she gave in. “I’ll go,” she agreed. “Just leave her alone.”

  Atilius pushed Justina away. She rushed to Antonia and threw her arms around her back.

  “A full week has not yet passed since I lost my parents to these slaves, and I will not let a similar fate befall this house,” Lucilius said, still holding the sword. Justina looked up at him with tears flowing. “They will learn we are their masters,” he continued, “with the sting of a beating for their insolence. Perhaps such an action may do you some good as well, Justina.”

  He raised the sword, and Justina put her arm up to block the impending blow. But it never came. Instead, Lucilius threw the sword on the bed and joined Atilius at the door. It bounced and landed hard on the floor. “Don’t stay up too late,” Lucilius said. “You have your chores to complete so we may get to the square. And not a word of what just transpired or I will have little choice but to let your mother know it was the slave who attacked us.”

  The two assailants slapped each other on the back as they left the room.

  Justina turned her attention to Antonia. She was on her knees sobbing. The wound on her back bled, through her tunic, and Justina dared not touch it. She would have to get Antonia to the Medicus, but had no idea what to say to him. She bent over and kissed Antonia on the shoulder.

  Antonia looked up, and Justina could see the disappointment in her eyes. “Apologies,” Justina said. “I truly never thought they would hurt either of us.” Without a word, Antonia rose and ran from the room. Justina called after her, but Antonia did not turn back.

  Justina sat motionless on the floor, the wooden sword only inches away. After a while, she rose and took it in her hand, eyeing the blood still gleaming in the candlelight. She began swinging it with wild abandon, trying to free the head of some unseen opponent from its body. As the swings grew stronger and more forceful, she finally cried out and flung the weapon across the room. For a moment, she simply stood there. Then she threw herself on the bed and sobbed until she found sleep.

  Chapter 13

  MARCH 7, 55 BC

  It was hot. Miserably hot. Justina would rather have been anywhere else in the world than here. Atilius and Lucilius were light of step, teasing each other as they made their way through the forum. While Atilius took in the sights, his friend was of sole purpose—find the crosses on which the murderers hung. Justina stayed several steps behind, just ahead of Cato and the Medicus. She found no joy in the day’s events.

  While Lucilius continued forward, Atilius slowed his pace until he was even with his sister. “Are you not excited to see the just punishment that awaits slaves who turn against their masters?”

  Justina’s gaze remained straight ahead. “I am here solely because you forced my hand. It is not something I look forward to or want to see.”

  “It will do you good to witness the results of treachery,” Atilius said forcefully. “Perhaps it will help you understand the line between Romans and those destined to serve Romans.”

  Justina shot her brother a stern look. She understood well the purpose of this public display of torture. Caesar wanted to ensure the citizens of Rome knew he had captured these slaves and dispatched their punishment quickly. He also wanted to send a message to anyone who might be contemplating a similar crime. But in Justina’s eyes, watching people suffer and die on an instrument of torture was cruel, and anyone who would display such brutality in public was nothing but a monster.

  Atilius pressed. “You should honor Lucilius by casting a rock. It will do much to show your support for the people who raised you and call you family.”

  “I will throw no rock at a helpless person. It is bad enough I am forced to watch you gain some kind of perverse enjoyment from this. It is not something you can make me do.”

  “You need not worry, Justina. Your protector Cato will deliver you from evil. Apparently, father does not trust you in our company alone.”

  “Your father charged me to keep Justina close,” Cato said. He looked past Atilius toward the market, “lest your exuberance causes the situation to sour.” He turned his attention to Atilius. “He was worried you may run off instead of protecting her.”

&n
bsp; Before Atilius could offer a response, Lucilius yelled out. “There! Those who have defiled my house and killed my parents!”

  As Atilius ran after his friend, Justina slowed her pace even more, allowing the sounds and scents of the forum to fill her senses. Justina had been to the forum on many occasions. Alba typically sent her with Cato and a long list. At times, the Medicus would join them. This was one such occasion.

  The Medicus had a name, but Justina didn’t know it. He was responsible for the health of the family and had always gone by the name of his profession, which was tradition. Though he wore the tunic of a slave, the Medicus was treated with much more reverence and was typically allowed to come and go as he pleased. He was an elderly man whose age showed both in his face and in the flowing grey of his hair. He moved with a slight limp and always seemed to be looking for something. He was a master of herbs, happy to reveal the secrets locked inside each one. Justina would sit for hours and listen.

  Today, the Medicus was looking for a specific herb, the calendula flower. “It calms skin irritations and helps with bug bites,” he had told her. He showed her how the bright yellow petals were heated in water, wrapped in a light cloth, and then applied to the skin. He would even ground up the versatile flower, mix it with olive oil, and add it to Alba’s nightly skin treatment. She was amazed at how one little flower could do so much.

  Justina enjoyed the forum. There was a certain excitement in hearing the merchants call out their wares. Almost anything could be found at Rome’s forum: bread, meat, fruit, fish, spices, wine, even clothing. Other things too, if you knew where to look. The market was filled with the most amazing odors. Cooked meats flavored with exotic spices all meant to whet the pallet and tempt the nose. Scents that could only be experienced in Rome.

  The market was filled with people, mostly the middle and lower class, and, of course, slaves. Everyone wanted the best price, but bartering was a delicate dance. Buyers offered prices. Merchants first feigned offense, then countered with a price of their own. The volley would continue back and forth until a price agreeable to both was found. Smart buyers knew when to press forward and when to take the price offered. Patience was the key.