Justina: Daughter of Spartacus (Justina Saga Book 1)

by Ryan Lew

  That set Justina off. All this time, while she thought herself progressing, Fabricius had been holding back. “Then you do me no favor. I make one request of you and you taint it with half effort. I love you regardless of your choices for me. If you love me as well, you will show me what it takes to gain my freedom.”

  Fabricius locked eyes with Justina. He stood there for quite some time pondering his next move. Then, without warning, he lunged forward, attacking Justina in a barrage of swings. She did her best to block everything she could, but was not skilled enough to step to the side and allow the barrage to pass. It took little time for Fabricius to overpower her. To knock her to the ground.

  “Freedom,” he said, looking down at her, “is being prepared at every move. The moves that you see and those you do not.”

  Fabricius extended his hand, but Justina did not take it. Instead, she got up under her own power, scowling at Fabricius but cautious at the same time. She had learned from her previous mistake not to charge in anger. She waited for Fabricius to make the next move. She did not have to wait long. She had barely caught her breath when Fabricius charged her a second time, lowering his shoulder and hitting her squarely in the stomach. She stepped back and doubled over. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught the sword coming for her. It hit her hard. The force sent shockwaves through her arm and knocked her sword from her hand. She yelled out in pain.

  “Freedom is being able to accept pain and continue the fight,” Fabricius said. “If a little tap is going to leave you defenseless, then lessons are meaningless.”

  Despite the sharp pain in her stomach, Justina stood erect. She walked over and picked her sword from the ground, then lunged quickly at Fabricius. He stepped aside easily and because her body was committed to the lunge, she couldn’t stop. The pain of his sword hitting her back rippled throughout her body, sending her hard to her knees.

  “Your footwork is terrible and you rush your attack. You commit yourself too soon and announce your intentions with your entire body,” Fabricius said standing over her. “Maybe we should do our training in the bedroom. Time spent here is a waste.” He winked at Justina.

  Justina got to her feet and closed her eyes tightly. When they opened, she was calm, her breathing steady. Fabricius noticed and smiled. Justina lowered her head and charged. Fabricius waited for just the right moment and stepped aside. But this time, Justina had not committed to her charge. Anticipating Fabricius’ move, she turned and swung her gladius downward, hitting him squarely on the arm, so hard that he dropped his sword.

  He smiled. “You are a quick study. Do you see the benefit of using your intelligence and not your aggression?”

  “Yes,” Justina said, a smile coming to her face.

  “Maybe there is hope for you. Now, let us truly have combat.”

  The two opponents exchanged blows for the better part of an hour. Justina landed several good shots, but Fabricius maintained the upper hand through most of the engagements. He seemed bent on breaking her spirits, but Justina would have none of it. Every time he knocked her down, she quickly got up and engaged him again. She pushed it well past the point where many recruits would have given up.

  On one of her attacks, Fabricius swung his sword in a horizontal slash. Instead of trying to block the sword and have the force unbalance her, she ducked beneath the blow. At the same time, she swung her sword and caught Fabricius right behind the knee. His leg quickly buckled, and he fell down hard on his back. The blow, unexpected, knocked the wind from him.

  Justina was very proud of herself until she saw that Fabricius was not rising. She flung off her helmet and ran over to him. “Are you hurt?” she asked. “I take it too far.”

  The pain was evident on Fabricius’ face, but his winces quickly turned to laughter. After a moment, Justina joined him. “I thought this was a simple hobby for you,” Fabricius said. “I humor you because I love you and want you to be happy. I do you no service with previous lessons, yet today, they all take hold and you show me something I did not think possible. In true combat, you would not best me. However, you would not die as quickly as before.”

  “Who said this isn’t real combat,” Justina said and jumped on top of Fabricius, pointing her gladius at his neck. “Do you concede, centurion?”

  Fabricius raised his hands in mock surrender. “I am yours to command.”

  “Yes, you are,” Justina said and was leaning in for a kiss, when the door to the sparing room suddenly swung open.

  “Justina!” Alba yelled out. “Get off your brother!”

  Fabricius and Justina exchanged a knowing look, like children who had been caught being bad. Justina tried not to laugh as she rose and helped Fabricius up from the floor.

  “Is this what you two do in here?” Alba asked.

  Justina walked over to her mother and stared her straight in the eyes. “I shall become a centurion one day, Mother, and then you can do chores for me,” she said and walked over to the rack of swords.

  Alba was not amused. “We have one child leave this house. I am afraid you two are destined to be under this roof forever,” she said to both of them, and then turned to her son. “Fabricius it is best for you to spend extra free time with a suitable woman so I may become a grandmother. Your brother Herminius beats you out of this house. Do not let him beat you to that task as well.”

  Fabricius walked over to the rack and placed his sword in its holder. He exchanged another look with Justina, and then he turned to Alba. “Mother, I am quite happy with my dating prowess. I have found a woman that I am quite fond of, and if things progress, you will not only see me to my own place, but many children for you to brood over.”

  Fabricius glanced at Justina. She smiled. Alba did not. Justina was becoming more and more impertinent, and Alba did not like it. Though she had regained power over Livius, Justina was proving another story entirely. Antonia’s death seemed to have emboldened her. She was spending hours in the sparring room, mostly with Fabricius. Alba longed for the day when she would be rid of the usurper once and for all, and she was ready to do anything necessary to make that happen. “Justina, go see the the Medicus. He has become ill over the past few weeks. I would not see him leave this house due to lack of effort by this family.”

  “Yes, mother,” Justina said, placing an undue emphasis on both words, and left the room.

  Chapter 49

  The Medicus’ room seemed quiet, almost solemn. It was not a comfortable feeling. The Medicus himself was lying on his cot, flat on his back. Most of the color was missing from his face, and he looked very grey. His breathing was shallow and seemed labored. Justina walked over and sat down beside him. “Hello, old friend. How do you feel today?”

  The Medicus turned his head. “Justina,” he said and tried to smile.

  She touched his forehead. It was like putting hand to flame. “You are burning up. What must we do to aid you?”

  “Only the gods can aid me at this point, child. I have used all my knowledge to keep me going the past week. I fear I will soon join Antonia in loving embrace.”

  Justina took a cloth from the Medicus’ table and soaked it in the bowl of water by his bed, then draped it across his forehead. “Do not speak like that.” She tried to put on a brave face, but there was a strange presence in the room and she felt, just as he did, that he wasn’t long for this world. “This house has known your services since I was yet a baby. It was you and Cato who delivered me here upon command of loving father. You must stay until I am ready to leave.”

  “Yes, your loving father. The great warrior.”

  “Warrior?” Justina repeated. She had never heard her father referred to as a warrior by either Cato or the Medicus.

  “You have never harmed a slave in your life. You question Roman ways even living under Roman roof. We speak of Legatus as your father, your Roman father.”

  “I had visit from him, in my dreams for the first time,” Justina admitted. “He was not dressed like a Roman Legatus,
but insisted he was my father.”

  The Medicus took ahold of Justina’s wrist. His touch was cold, almost chilling. “You had vision of your father?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he speak?” His grip tightened.

  Justina looked down at her wrist, then back at the Medicus. His eyes were wide and he was staring intently at her. “You are beginning to scare me. Your fever has you maddening.”

  The Medicus leaned upward. “Did he break words with you?” he repeated with heavy breath.

  “Yes,” Justina said. She tried to pull away, but the Medicus’ grip was remarkably tight. “He said I was just a slave if I did not speak up for myself and fight for what is right.”

  “Does that sound like the words spewed from a Roman?”

  “No,” she admitted. “It does not.”

  The Medicus smiled. He released his grip and laid back down. “Your real father came to visit you.”

  “My real father? The Legatus dressed as slave?”

  “No,” the Medicus said and chuckled weakly. “Slave dressed as slave.”

  “I don’t understand,” Justina said. “What is meaning of words?

  “You are the daughter…” he said and began coughing. It started small at first, then became more violent. He grabbed the cloth from his head and placed it over his mouth.

  Justina was scared. She could see blood on the cloth and didn’t know what to do. “Do not die,” she said, as if her words would force the sickness from his body.

  “King,” the Medicus said between coughs. “You are the daughter of a king.”

  “What do you mean, king?” Justina asked.

  After a short while, the Medicus stopped coughing and was able to continue, “You do not think like a Roman. You do not act like a Roman. It is because you do not have the blood of a Roman. We made up lie to ensure safety to baby Justina. A man once granted myself and Cato freedom, and thousands of others as well. Cato and I chose to go back into servitude as respect for all the chains cut by king.”

  Justina’s eyes were wide and her mouth agape. All her life she had been told her father had been killed by the Slave King Spartacus. How she had grown to hate even the very name and now the Medicus seemed to be saying that Spartacus was actually her father. “I…I do not understand,” she said.

  The Medicus took hold of Justina’s arm, his grip this time gentle. He leaned up as best he could. “He had but one daughter. You, Justina. He did not want to see his daughter in chains or dead, so choices were made.”

  Before he could say any more, the Medicus began coughing anew. He tried holding the cloth to his mouth, but his body began seizing. He dropped the cloth to the floor. Justina took hold of his hand, tears streaming down her face. In only a few moments his body stopped shaking, and his hand fell limp. Justina laid her hand on his chest and began sobbing.

  Chapter 50

  MAY 1, 55 BC

  His body was still outside in the peristylium, lying on a pedestal surrounded by roses. This was a peaceful place. Violets, bluebells, periwinkles, jasmine, crocus, geraniums, and cornflowers decorating the open space were all in bloom. It was the perfect place to lay his body, as it was also the place where he and Cato grew herbs—some of which were used for cooking and others for medicinal purposes.

  Livius had agreed to pay for cremation services to prevent the Medicus from ending up in potter’s field. Just as he had done with Antonia, only he had kept that act from Alba, but not Justina. Cato visited his old friend this day, just has he had done when the Medicus was ill. He was there, kneeling by the Medicus’ side, when Justina came upon him.

  “He was a gentle soul,” Justina said. “Always more consumed with our well-being than his own.”

  “He did as commanded,” Cato said without looking up. “As any true slave would. He was a brother to me.” Justina moved closer to Cato and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We have seen much in our lives.”

  “Would he have been happier being a free man?” Justina asked.

  Cato looked up at Justina. “The choice was not our own.”

  “My father commanded it?”

  Cato did not answer. He just looked away.

  Justina was tired of the lies and half-truths. Tired of the stories she was told of her origins. Time she knew who her real father was and why that truth had been hidden from her for so many years.

  “Why would a man who granted your freedom ask you to become a slave again?” she asked. “My father, the Roman Legatus, must have had you and the Medicus as his slaves. Yet, I have heard through our walls that you and he were free men, albeit briefly.”

  Cato stood and faced Justina. “What are you saying?”

  “I had a vision not long ago. It was of my father, my real father. He was not Roman. He was a slave.”

  “Your dreams betray you,” Cato said.

  Justina stepped closer to Cato; tears were forming in her eyes. “My father was not a Roman, was he?”

  “Your father was a great man who sought only justice in this world.”

  “A man who would not command other men to protect his daughter and force them into slavery, but from his actions, men would volunteer to do such a thing. Men such as you and the Medicus.”

  A tear fell from Cato’s eye. “Your father was a great man,” he repeated.

  “Then tell me of him, so that I may finally know the truth.”

  Cato did not respond.

  “Please Cato!” she pleaded.

  Cato was looking at her intently. He lowered his head, took a deep breath, then looked up, and continued, “Your father freed thousands of slaves and had the mighty Roman Empire shaking,” he said, placing his hands on Justina’s arms. “He knew you would be put into slavery or killed if your true identity were revealed.”

  “Then it is true,” she said. “I am the daughter of Spartacus?”

  “It is true,” he confirmed. “For such a man, many of us were willing to give our lives. I have but one goal and that is to see you safely through this life.”

  Justina was filled with a wave of unexpected emotions. At the same time a burden had been lifted, a weight had taken its place. She grieved at the loss of a father she had never known, a father who was never real. A man, once hated, now stood in his stead, and with it, everything fell into place. Now she finally understood why she felt so strongly for slaves, why she never fit into Roman society, and why a gladius always felt so natural in her hand.

  As the puzzle began to reveal itself, Justina recalled the scene just outside the market. “And the woman on the cross?” she asked. “The woman who knew my name?”

  Cato’s shoulders dropped, and he bowed his head. “She was with us, as was her husband,” Cato admitted. “We all made the journey to Rome together but separated before we found a place for you.”

  Justina wasn’t quite sure what to do next, but she wouldn’t have time to decide.

  The clapping drew their attention immediately. “This is quite the story you and the Medicus have come up with, Cato,” Alba said as she entered the peristylium. Alba strolled over to the two and stood between them. “So now the question becomes, is my adopted daughter being deceived, or is she the daughter of the Slave King Spartacus?”

  “I speak falsely,” Cato said quickly. “Apologies, I was speaking lies. Whatever punishment you seek for me, I will accept.”

  Alba looked hard at Cato. He bowed his head. “Go into the house and prepare meal for dinner. You are a slave and your words have little meaning to this family. Do not speak of this conversation ever again.”

  Alba moved closer to Justina. She was smiling broadly. “You and I have never been as mother and daughter should,” she said and placed an arm around her daughter. Justina stiffened. “You were not from my loins, but Livius so wanted a daughter, I allowed you into our lives. That was the biggest mistake I have ever made. Now to find out this secret. From who you were spawned. I can no longer blame myself for your actions. You are but the daughter of a slave. And
from now till you are no longer under my roof, I will treat you as such.”

  Justina clenched her fists.

  “Unless,” Alba positioned herself to face Justina. “You cease this ridiculous relationship with my son and remove yourself from this house as soon as you find a new place to call home. If you do not, I will be forced to tell all in our family of your true nature. I’m sure Atilius would love to hear such news.”

  Tears fell down Justina’s cheeks. Her hands were shaking. Had she a sword right this minute, she would gladly have shoved it directly into Alba’s midsection. She had never wanted to end a person’s life so badly as she did this imposter of a mother. It was Alba who had given Antonia to Atilius to spite Justina. Alba who was pulling the strings. Alba who should by lying dead.

  “I will take your silence as an agreement,” Alba said and began to walk away. She took a few steps and stopped. “I will have conversation with Fabricius tomorrow, and if his mood does not reflect ending of sick relationship, he will get information that will change his mood.” She didn’t look at Justina. “You may remain out here for a bit longer so you can mourn your fellow slave.”

  All of this training had been for nothing. It had not brought her freedom. With one quick comment, Alba had taken everything from her. She had a choice, stay and become a slave, or strike out on her own. She knew exactly what she must do.

  Chapter 51

  She was truly a slave. She just never realized it. Every time it looked like she had the upper hand, like everything she wanted in life was about to materialize, she was knocked down, broken, put back in chains. Antonia had killed herself, and she couldn’t protect her. The Medicus died. Her father, the great Legatus, was a lie. She was the daughter of a man she had been raised to hate. She had finally found love, finally understood what it meant to care more for someone else than her own self, and now that too was taken away. There was nothing left.