by Ryan Lew
“I will speak with my son and see if he chooses to assist you,” Livius said. “I would hope that Fabricius’ skill and loyalty would not come into question. If that is all, I must take leave and attend to my meats for the day. I would hate for Romans to go hungry.”
Servilia stood and hugged Livius. The hug was awkward. Livius bowed his head at Caesar then left the room. Servilia remained standing.
“Will he make this happen?” Caesar asked.
Servilia turned on her heels. “Livius is an honorable man,” she snapped. “Trust me, your subtleness was not lost on him. But then it’s seldom lost on anyone.”
“I need you to make this happen,” Caesar said and stood. He walked closer to Servilia and whispered near her ear, “It will only serve to strengthen our relationship knowing you have my best interests in mind.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Now, I have work to do.” He left her standing.
Chapter 20
There were noises coming from the training room. Loud grunts and groans. When Antonia peeked in, she found Justina clothed in full battle gear, breastplate and shin guards in place. Antonia entered the room and sat quietly in the corner, watching Justina as she thrusted her wooden gladius, over and over again, at an unseen opponent. She was strong and quick, but not quite as smooth as Fabricius. Antonia had watched him many times from the shadows as he trained. His movements with sword in hand were elegant, more like a dance, than combat. His muscles rippled as his arm thrusted. His strong legs swept across the floor as he moved forward, then back, slashing and jabbing as he moved. She liked watching him.
Justina kept at it for quite some time before she finally paused. She was breathing heavily when she turned and saw Antonia. She removed her helmet and rushed to her side.
“Apologies,” she said.
“For what?” Antonia asked.
“That I did not do more to protect you.”
Antonia looked down and rubbed her hands together. “It is I who should be apologizing. Cato has told me for years that slaves and masters cannot be friends. I was disillusioned.”
Justina dropped her sword and took Antonia’s hands in hers. “We are friends, Antonia. I’ve never once looked at you as a slave.”
Antonia looked up at Justina. Tears were forming in her eyes. “It cannot be true,” she said. “It is but an illusion.”
“Cato has no right to speak for anyone but himself. Besides, he has little room to talk. Father treats him more as a confidant than a slave. I am a Roman woman and as such, am fully capable of choosing my own friends.”
“But I am not a Roman woman,” Antonia said.
“Not yet.”
“Not ever!” The male voice came from across the room. Both Antonia and Justina turned to find Atilius in the doorway. Justina stood, picked up her sword, and stepped in front of Antonia.
“So,” he said as he entered the room. “You really want to do this?”
“My gladius is ready.”
“I am but weeks away from joining the Roman army and you want to test me? And to add to my disdain, you bring the cause of our grievance?”
“There seems but one way that you will accept me as your sister. My sword, your defeat, and the embarrassment that will truly follow. You best clothe yourself and prepare for battle.”
Atilius chuckled. “I need only a gladius against you,” he said as he walked over to the wooden swords resting on a rail. He picked up one and smiled. “This punishment will be quick.”
Justina donned her helmet.
Antonia’s first instinct was to run from the room, but she was frozen in place. How she wanted Justina to win, wanted it all to be true. Maybe a slave could find a life among Romans. Maybe a friendship could last. But she knew deep down inside it wasn’t true. Still, she wanted nothing more than for Justina to make her brother pay.
“After I defeat you, your girlfriend will wash the blood from my sword, naked in front of me.”
“I will take great pleasure in shutting that foul mouth of yours,” Justina said and readied herself.
Atilius laughed and took a sudden jab at Justina. She easily blocked the shot and quickly parried, hitting Atilius hard on the back, causing him to fall. He got up, the anger evident.
“So you do want to do this for real?” He walked over to the clothing closet, pulled out a chest plate and helmet. “I was intending on simply embarrassing you,” he said as he donned the equipment. “Now I’ll make you pay with blood.”
“All I hear are your lips flapping,” Justina retorted.
Atilius raged a furious attack at Justina, coming at her without warning. It didn’t surprise Antonia. A fair fight wasn’t in his nature. All he ever seemed to care about was taking the advantage whenever and wherever he could. Yet Justina didn’t seem caught off guard. She managed to block every thrust, easily countering his attack, at first. But then it began to change.
Atilius’ attacks were relentless. He seemed to have an unlimited supply of energy, swinging his gladius with controlled abandon. His intent, it seemed, was not one of triumph, but of conquest. Justina was losing her footing. Though he had not yet managed to connect with a strike, Atilius had managed to back Justina up until she was almost against the wall. She was no longer returning his parries but instead, seemed to struggle just to block his blows.
Her expression had also changed. Confidence and determination had been replaced with a look of concern, almost bordering on despair. Antonia cupped her hands over her mouth as Atilius pushed Justina back even further, pressing his advantage. She was now unable to keep up with his strikes. She missed a block, and Atilius’ sword found its mark against her leg. Antonia winced. Justina missed a second block and the wooden gladius slammed against her arm. Had it been a real sword, is would have left a deep gash. When she missed a third time, Atilius swung his sword at her head, smashing it into her helmet. Antonia cringed with the sound. Justina’s helmet crashed to the ground.
Atilius smiled. Antonia started to shake. Justina appeared dazed, but she would not back down. She held her sword out with two hands to counter his next attack, but the sword was shaking. Atilius swung his own gladius hard, aiming right for Justina’s sword. Her grip failed, and the sword flew across the room. Atilius stepped in closer and pressed the tip of his gladius hard against her neck. Justina was on her toes. Had the sword been metal, it would have pierced her skin. Atilius was only inches from her face.
Antonia dared not look.
“This will be the last time I face you in combat.” Atilius spat out his words. “You are not my equal. You are not worthy of my time. You are just a stranger in my house.”
Antonia peeked through her fingers.
Tears fell from Justina’s eyes, but she dared not move. Atilius stepped back, then, without warning, swung his sword at Justina’s head. There was a dull thud. Antonia screamed. Blood began pouring from the wound. Justina stepped back, stunned, then fell to the floor.
Atilius examined the blood on the sword. He slowly looked up at Antonia. “Take my gladius and clean it,” he barked. “But first, remove your clothes.”
When Antonia refused to move, he raised the sword as if to hit Justina a second time. Antonia leapt in front of Justina and reached for the sword. Atilius pulled it back. “Oh no,” he said. “First remove your clothes. You can clean my sword when you are properly naked.”
Antonia lowered her head, then pulled the tunic from her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. Atilius violated her with his eyes. She went to cover her naked breasts, but he swiped her hand away. Then he pushed the sword into her. “Use your tunic to clean it,” he commanded.
Antonia took the sword and began to wipe off Justina’s blood. She kept her eyes on the sword. She could not bear to see the smile on his face, or the lust in his eyes. Tears were falling, and she was beginning to sob.
She fell to her knees.
“One day slave, you will learn that you leeched onto the wrong member of this household.” Antonia shuddered when Ati
lius’ helmet and breastplate dropped to the floor beside her. “It is I you should be visiting late at night,” he said and then left the room.
Antonia finished cleaning the sword, still sobbing. Afterward, she pulled her tunic back on. She looked over at Justina who was huddled in the corner of the room, the blood running down the side of her face.
“Your brother has left, Domina,” Antonia said, as she picked up Atilius’ gear and placed it in the closet.
“You call me, Domina?” Justina asked, looking up.
“I am a slave and always will be. Our fantasies of anything else are simply that,” Antonia said and walked to the door. Before she left, she turned and looked back at Justina. “You’d better go see the Medicus and attend to that wound.”
Chapter 21
“Do you have time to discuss our history, almost revealed?”
The Medicus was mixing herbs when Cato appeared in his doorway. “You may enter,” he said. “But be mindful of your words. Best use quiet tones.”
Cato entered the Medicus’ room. It was meager surroundings. Along one entire wall were shelves containing glass bottles, mainly filled with herbs, though some had strange-colored liquids and other things Cato could not, and did not want to identify. A small table contained a collection of pestles and mortars that were used to crush herbs when making medicine. The table also had cups, bowls, and several wooden spoons. The only other furniture in the small room was two cots, one for him and one for the family member being treated. Cato chose the cot set aside for patients and sat down.
He had been in the Medicus’ room many times in the past and every time felt he had entered into the world of Pliny the Elder. It was not a place he felt comfortable, but he had seen what the Medicus could do with a handful of herbs and he trusted him. Between the three boys and Justina, the Medicus’ services were well utilized.
“Had you any idea there were others like us still of the living?” Cato asked.
“Many travelled with us,” the Medicus said, looking up from his mortar and pestle. “Is it not realistic to think there may be some who yet find themselves within the borders of Rome? Still, I did not expect it to be her.”
Justina made her way toward the Medicus’ room, pressing a torn sheet against the wound to stop the bleeding. She had tried to push herself up against the wall but was unable to gain her footing. Her head was throbbing, and her legs were weak. She crawled across the floor after Antonia left. She fell twice before finally pulling herself upright. After she caught her breath, she leaned against the wall until her knees stopped shaking. The wall kept her upright as she made her way down the hallway. Drawing close to the room, she heard voices inside. One was the Medicus and the other was Cato.
“The smart ones kept going and found lands far from Rome’s reach,” said the Medicus. “I often wonder what would have become of us if we had not journeyed to Rome.”
“We have done well for ourselves here in the house Livius,” replied Cato. “We are well taken care of, know what is asked of us, and in turn, are not beaten or treated poorly. This is a good family, and we did well in our searching them out so many moons ago.”
Justina stopped just outside the room.
“Still,” Cato continued, “Our freedom, albeit brief, was wonderful to behold. Fighting alongside such a great warrior was a feeling unlike any other I have ever experienced. Nothing brings my heart warmth more so than knowing one of his last commands came down to the two of us.”
“A command we honor to this day,” the Medicus added.
Cato had never talked much about his past. Justina had always wondered how it was he came to be in their house. She had heard the rumors of Cato having once been free, but if it was in fact true, why would a man who had gained his freedom, so easily give it away? She knew it was wrong to listen, but curiosity had gotten the better of her and she couldn’t stop herself.
“Commanded,” Cato repeated with a chuckle. “He granted our freedom and never commanded us do anything but what our free will would allow.”
“I was once kept busy tending to thousands of injuries and wounds. Now, but a scrape here or there consumes my days.”
Justina was having a hard time concentrating on the words being spoken. As the hallway began to spin, she pressed herself harder against the wall, but it was no use. Once the spinning began, there was no stopping it, and it didn’t take long for her world to turn black. When it did, she fell hard to the floor.
Cato jumped from the cot at the sound and rushed to the hallway. He found Justina on the floor, the bloody cloth next to her head. Without hesitation, he scooped her up in his arms and brought her to into the room.
“The Gods!” the Medicus exclaimed. “What has happened? Bring her over and let me have a look.”
Cato laid Justina on the cot and almost tripped backward trying to move out of the Medicus’ way. She had a sharp cut on her head, and it was clear she had lost quite a bit of blood. “Go to the preparation room and get me some oranges and a lime,” the Medicus told Cato. He rushed from the room. When he returned, he found the Medicus making a salve from the herbs and oils in his jars.
The Medicus looked up when Cato entered.
“Cut those in half and squeeze the juice into this cup,” he said, handing Cato one of the vessels from the table. Cato did as he was told.
Having finished his salve, the Medicus moved over to Justina and began applying it to the wound he had cleaned while Cato was gone. The act brought Justina back to consciousness with a start.
“Ow!” she yelled and tried to sit up.
Cato turned, relieved to hear her voice. The Medicus placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pressed to stop her. “Lay down,” he said. “Sitting up is not yet wise.”
“It stings,” she said.
“It is the mint,” the Medicus explained. “Discomfort will soon turn to relief.”
Cato stepped over to the cot. “How did this happen?” he asked. “With whom were you sparring?”
“How did you know..” She stopped when she realized she was still wearing her full gear. “I owed my brother a debt, one that was not repaid this day. I overstepped. My thoughts and my skills are not of the same function.”
Cato knew the culprit, but he asked anyway. “Atilius, I would imagine?”
Justina nodded.
The Medicus finished applying the salve. “Okay, now let’s try to sit you up.” Cato took hold of her arm and the Medicus placed his hand on her back. The two men helped her to an upright position.
“How is your head?” the Medicus asked.
“It feels like I was kicked by a Cappadocia Warhorse.”
Cato laughed. The Medicus motioned for the cup and Cato handed it to Justina. “Drink this slowly.” the Medicus said. “You will begin to feel better shortly. Head wounds always bleed terribly but look far worse than they usually are.”
Seeing that Justina would be all right, Cato was able to catch his breath, but it wouldn’t last long. How long had she been outside the room, he wondered. There was one way to find out. “Justina, ever the warrior,” he said. “You take after your father.”
“I do?” Justina asked, sitting more erect. “How well did you know my father? I’ve heard only a few tales of the great Legatus.”
Cato and the Medicus exchanged a quick glance.
“Your father was a great soldier and leader,” Cato said. “He is the reason I made sure of your safety in getting you to Rome.”
Justina’s face fell. “Yes, this I know. This I have been told many times. But at what point will I finally hear more about my father and his battles? I am almost eighteen years old. All I am told is how he fought so bravely and was taken by the Slave King Spartacus. The coward Spartacus, like an eel, slithered into my father’s base camp and killed him while asleep. Some king he was.”
“You will know the truth soon enough,” vowed Cato. “The day will come when all will be revealed, but that day is not today.
“Nor is it any
day near coming,” Justina added, crossing her arms.
“Right now, I would say you need to focus on that head injury,” the Medicus said.
“And perhaps a bit more training before you pick a fight with your brother,” Cato added.
“Shall we see if you can stand?” the Medicus asked, and flashed Cato a disapproving look.
It may have been salt in the wound, but it was nonetheless true. He helped the Medicus get Justina to her feet, holding onto her arms until she felt stable. “How do you feel?” the Medicus asked. “Any dizziness?”
“No.”
“Then finish the drink and go change out of that gear. The weight is not good for you.”
Justina downed the concoction in one large gulp, then handed the cup to the Medicus. “You are right, Cato,” she said. “More training is what I need. I won’t let anyone hurt Antonia. She is too good of a friend to me.”
She had said the comment purposely trying to get Cato to bite. He didn’t. Though he hated to hear her talk that way, he knew now was not the time to correct.
“Thank you, Medicus,” Justina said and walked to the doorway.
Cato walked over to the door. “Do you need help, Domina?” he asked.
“No,” she replied. “I’ll be fine.”
Cato watched as Justina made her way down the hall, when she was out of sight, he turned back to the Medicus.
“Do you think she heard us?”
“Possibly, but with that head wound, she was probably too dazed to comprehend much of anything.” The Medicus went back to his table and put down the cup. “Did you see how her face lights up at the mention of her father? How long do you think you can hide the truth from her?”
“For all of our safety, it is best she never knows the truth.”
“Wouldn’t her father want her to know? Do you not see how Justina views slaves? It reminds me of someone quite well.”
“Do you not recall your vow?”
“Of course I do,” the Medicus said, annoyed at the accusation.