A Gladiator's Tale

by Ashley Gardner

  Volteius turned an incredulous stare on me. “Recently? You will have to be more precise. Look around you. I am constantly filling orders. Not only for the gladiators in this city but in surrounding towns, plus mending battered gear for men of the legions or the Praetorian guard, or the vigiles, or anyone who needs to swing a sword or protect their chest. The spring games are coming up, and every lanista wants his men to be more grand and posturing than ever.”

  I waited until his diatribe trailed off into a mutter. “A Thracian and a secutor. The Thracian helmet had black and white plumes.”

  Volteius shoved his stylus behind his ear. “I don’t do the plumes here—I send out for that—but yes, I did finish armor for a Thracian and a secutor. Albus!”

  His shout brought the young man instantly to his side. “Sir?”

  “When did I do the Thracian?”

  Albus stared at a corner of the ceiling as he considered. “About a month ago. Together with the secutor. Leg greaves molded with warriors from the Trojan war. One was Ajax, I think.”

  I jumped. The dead Ajax’s leg guards had held the relief of a warrior on each. I hadn’t studied them closely, but they could have been the Trojan War hero Ajax. The specific request meant that the killer hadn’t targeted a random gladiator, but Ajax himself.

  “Who made this order?” I leaned over Volteius’s worktable, my large shadow blotting out the etching of a half-clad nymph.

  Volteius’s thick brows rose. “Aemilianus did.”

  “Aemil?” I stared at him in amazement, and I heard Cassia rustle behind me. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” Volteius snapped. “I do much work for him—you know that.”

  “I mean, he came himself to place the order?”

  “No, he sent someone.” He waved a blunt-fingered hand. “I don’t know who. I don’t keep account of who all works at your ludus. Man says Aemilianus wants armor, I provide it.”

  I turned to Albus. “Do you remember who collected it?”

  “Big man,” Albus said at once. “Never seen him before. He wasn’t a gladiator. I thought Aemilianus had hired him to fetch and carry. Thick dark hair, big nose, tall and broad. Didn’t hear his name.”

  “Didn’t give a name,” Volteius said. “Why should he? Set down the money, took the goods. I usually keep a running tally for Aemilianus that he pays after the games are done, but I didn’t mind having the cash right away.”

  The information helped, but at the same time, the man could have been anyone. It would be difficult to trace him, even with Albus’s observant description.

  “Anything wrong, Leonidas?” Albus peered up at me as I scowled.

  “You’ve heard that Ajax and Rufus have been killed?” I asked bluntly.

  “Of course,” Albus said before Volteius could answer. “It’s all over Rome.”

  “That equipment was made for them.” I set my mouth in a grim line. “For their deaths.”

  Volteius lost his frown, his lips parting in disbelief. Albus stared at me in shock.

  “Then the man who picked them up,” Albus said in a near whisper. “He was the killer?”

  “Possibly,” I said. “Or worked for him.”

  “Minerva save us.” Albus gulped, but he quivered with excitement. “We talked to a murderer.”

  “He seemed quiet enough.” Volteius’s answer was gruff. “As you say, Leonidas, he probably was only running the errand. Might not have known what his master had in mind. But he claimed he’d been sent by Aemilianus.”

  “He lied. Aemil would never kill his own men.”

  Volteius’s voice turned hard. “I had no idea. Remember that. Nothing to do with the business. I thought I was working for Aemilianus, same as ever.” He glared at Gallus, as though Gallus might run to fetch a magistrate at once.

  Volteius was right to worry. If any believed he was a conspirator in the murder, he would be condemned with them.

  “You acted in good faith.” I spoke slowly and clearly for all to hear. “No one could blame you.”

  “See that they don’t,” Volteius barked. “Now, away with you. I have many more commissions to fulfill.”

  He snatched the stylus from behind his ear and bent over the etching again, but I noted that his hand shook, and he could not make a mark.

  Albus gestured for us to follow him out. “Have I helped?” he asked me, eyes shining.

  “You did.” I resisted the urge to pat him on the head like a dog. “Thank you.”

  “If I see the man again, I’ll send word right away,” he promised.

  “If you see him again, hide from him,” I said in alarm. “I don’t want him cleaning up after himself.”

  Albus nodded gravely at my warning, and I hoped he heeded it. He ushered us out the gate and closed it behind us but did not lock it.

  “Where will you go now?” Gallus asked in curiosity.

  I did not know what I should do next. Scour the city for a large man with dark hair and a big nose? That would be a long and arduous task.

  Cassia emerged from under her cloak. “The ludus,” she said. “Ask Aemilianus if he truly did order the armor. If so, then it was stolen from him for the purpose.”

  “Excellent idea.” Gallus rubbed his hands together, his toga flapping. “In that case, I will leave you to it. As I once told you, gladiatorial combat makes me shudder, and I might go weak if I stood near an entire pack of gladiators at once. Good day, Leonidas. Young Cassia. Do not forget my question about joining me on the building team for the warehouse. My door is always open to you.”

  Gallus ebulliently headed off in the direction of the nearest bridge to lead him back to the heart of Rome. Once he was gone, lost in the crowds, Cassia and I turned our steps toward the ludus. I sensed she wanted to ask me about Gallus’s offer, and I kept a swift pace to prevent her.

  As we approached the ludus’ gate, Septimius on guard once again, heavy footsteps sounded behind us.

  “Get out of my way, Leonidas.”

  The missing Regulus abruptly shoved himself past me and stormed in through the gate that Septimius hurriedly opened for him.

  Chapter 14

  I barreled inside after Regulus, Cassia directly behind me. Regulus halted on the walkway next to the practice field where gladiators trained despite the rain. He insolently stretched his arms and yawned.

  Before I could ask Regulus where in Hades he’d hidden himself, Aemil rushed across the field at him, fury in his eyes and a wooden sword in his hand. I recognized the sword. We’d named it Nemesis.

  “Do you think this is a bathhouse you can wander in and out of at your pleasure?” Aemil roared as he reached Regulus. “Where were you? Don’t lie to me!”

  Septimius slammed the gate, and I heard the bolt slide across it, locking us in. The gladiators ceased training, turning to watch with interest.

  Regulus glanced warily at the wooden sword then pretended to ignore it. “I was with a lady. Where’d you think? I was paid well, don’t worry.”

  “I’ve explained time and again I’m not running a brothel,” Aemil shouted. “You return at curfew or you face the consequence.” The sword rose.

  Aemil in his day had been the most celebrated gladiator in Rome. I’d taken over the title, but I knew I could never have bested Aemil. He’d never lost a bout, not even when he’d been a green tiro.

  “I’m here now,” Regulus growled. “And tired. Can’t you beat me later?”

  He spoke with bravado, but I heard the uneasiness in his voice.

  “I will beat you any time I choose.” Aemil advanced on him. “You belong to me, not any trollop in the Subura. Get to your cell.”

  “Not a trollop. Rich woman.” Regulus backed away toward the line of arches that fronted the cells.

  “I don’t care if she was a handmaiden of Venus. You go out only with my permission, and you didn’t have it. Rufus and Ajax have died. You want to be the next stack of gladiator parts?”

  Regulus started. “Rufus is d
ead?”

  “Killed and chopped up. We thought you were too—Leonidas has been scouring the streets for you.”

  Regulus moved his gaze to me, and his derision returned. “Leonidas couldn’t find his own ass.”

  “Get inside.” Aemil smacked the sword across Regulus’s abdomen before Regulus could block it.

  Regulus grunted with the hit, then he wisely turned and jogged toward his cell. Aemil strode after him, and I followed, keeping Cassia tightly next to me. The other gladiators watched us go with the smugness of men who hadn’t earned Aemil’s wrath that day.

  Aemil was locking the door to Regulus’s cell when we reached it. Regulus leaned against the far wall, arms folded.

  “I’m not a criminal,” he snarled.

  “You’re a gladiator.” Aemil turned the iron key in the lock with a decided clank. The cells were bolted from the outside, the gladiators imprisoned inside. “You’re in my ludus for one reason—I paid for you.”

  Regulus rumbled his displeasure, but he remained on the far side of the cell as Aemil withdrew his key and strode away. Regulus spit through the grating, but I noticed he made sure he had no chance of the spittle hitting Aemil.

  Once Aemil had exited to the training ground, his shouts at the gladiators to get back to work floating to us, I moved to Regulus’s door.

  “Tell me where you were,” I said. “It might be important.”

  Regulus eyed me with irritation. “None of your business.” He bent down to his bunk and extracted a thin piece of metal from under the pallet. He moved to the door, thrust his hand through the slats, and started working the lock with the pick.

  I rested one hand on the iron bars. “Ajax and Rufus were murdered after they’d been treated to a lavish meal. Possibly by a rich woman. So who was she?”

  “Go eat your own eyeballs, Leonidas.”

  I abruptly snatched the lock pick from his hand and threw it down the corridor. The thin iron skittered across the stones.

  “Prick.” Regulus glared at me and rattled the door. “Open it.”

  “Aemil can still put me on the ground. No.”

  “He doesn’t own you, and you have no reason to be loyal to him. Or is your freedman’s cap too tight and you want to run back home to his protection?”

  I’d never received the cap a slave turned freedman was given by his former master, nor had I enjoyed a celebratory feast. I was handed the rudis, then ignored, which was fine with me.

  “He’s a better fighter than I am.” I could state this without rancor because it was true. “Tell me who the woman was—someone very wealthy is luring gladiators to their deaths.”

  “Well, it couldn’t have been the woman I visited, because here I am. I ate, drank, and took her in every position I knew and some I didn’t. She’s highly educated.”

  “I won’t betray her, if that’s your worry.”

  “Betray her.” Regulus laughed up at the scarred ceiling. “I’m not worried about her reputation. She’s a widow enjoying herself and doesn’t care who knows it. I’m worried about Herakles breaking all my bones. She’s his special benefactress. At least, he thinks so.”

  “Domitiana Sabinus?” I asked quickly. I heard Cassia move behind me, but she remained silent. “Herakles won’t learn this from me.”

  “Such a loyal friend, is Leonidas. Will do anything for his comrade, except kill him when begged to, or help him out of a locked cell.”

  I regarded him stubbornly. “Both times to save your life.”

  “So you say. Yes, Domitiana. If Aemil is locking us all in the ludus now, she’ll be more than willing to welcome you. She likes gladiators. Can’t get enough of them.”

  “Did she put anything into your wine?” I asked, ignoring this suggestion. “Did you feel groggy or lethargic?”

  “Only after I used my rod for the seventh time. The woman has stamina. But no, she did not have to get me drunk or lace my sweetmeats with a soothing concoction.”

  “We believe this is how Rufus and Ajax were felled.” I held Regulus’s dark gaze. “Given food and drink tainted to make them drowsy, before they were coshed from behind. I only hope they were dead before they were butchered.”

  I assumed they had been because even a half-conscious gladiator had the instinct to fight. Marcianus said Ajax showed no signs of grappling with anyone, and I wagered Rufus didn’t either. But I wanted Regulus to worry a little more than he was.

  Regulus’s eyes widened slightly, but his words dripped with scorn, “You’re not good at terrifying men, Leonidas.”

  I stepped to the bars, hardening my heart, and sent him the stare that made other gladiators falter when they faced me in the arena.

  “I am very, very good at it.” My voice was quiet. “Stay in the ludus and live. The gods obviously want you to.”

  “Either that, or they’ve cursed me with you.”

  I moved my attention to the remaining two stick figures on the ceiling, etched too deeply to gouge out. “Why did you erase Xerxes’ drawings?”

  Regulus glanced at them then away. “I didn’t. Aemil did.”

  That surprised me, but I forced myself not to react. I simply unwound my hands from the bars and stalked away from him.

  Cassia scurried a few paces ahead of me, and we emerged into the open air of the practice field. Aemil was bellowing orders at the fighters in training, chivying them with shouts and threats. The gladiators obeyed him without argument, hacking at posts in the spattering rain.

  Aemil broke from them and met Cassia and me at the gate. “They’re all accounted for now. Regulus was the last. I’ll keep them locked in, and there won’t be any more deaths.” He held me in place with his mismatched eyes. “You lock yourself in when you go home. I don’t want anyone stumbling over your dead body.”

  I had no intention of letting them. “Regulus claims you scratched out Xerxes’ pictures.”

  Aemil’s gaze flickered at my abrupt statement. “I did. Before you strike me, I did it because they were the last things Xerxes drew—the last prank he pulled. Regulus doesn’t deserve to look at them.”

  I said nothing. Aemil kept his emotions close, except for rage at disobedient gladiators, and I hadn’t realized until this instant that he’d felt a fondness for Xerxes, and was sorry to have lost him.

  Fondness was a lethal thing in our business. Death destroyed every friendship, every love. Gladiators strolled with death every day, and we’d be gutted by constant despair if we let ourselves care.

  I sent Aemil the minutest of nods before I closed my hand around Cassia’s shoulder and steered her out of the gate ahead of me.

  We didn’t speak much until we reached our apartment. Cassia shed her cloak and I went out to sit on the edge of the balcony in an attempt to pull my thoughts together. The rain had ceased as we’d walked, the clouds rolling away to let sunlight through. The balcony was dry, shielded from the rain by our wall, and now warm from the sun.

  Cassia’s soft footfalls sounded, and soon, she sank down next to me, both of us dangling our feet over the edge of the flat roof.

  I assumed Cassia would begin discussing all we’d discovered this afternoon at the warehouse and the armorers, but she studied me a moment before asking quietly, “Do you intend to work for Gnaeus Gallus?”

  I glanced sharply at her, but Cassia serenely turned her gaze to the street. People milled along this quiet lane, visiting the wine merchant or other small shops tucked nearby. None looked up to see us sitting above them.

  “I don’t know.” As I’d reflected before, I wanted it with my whole being, but the fear of it reached up to choke me. “Would our benefactor stop me?”

  “I think not,” Cassia answered. “The instructions Hesiodos gave me were that you should employ yourself to pay the rent and feed the two of us until our benefactor is ready to reveal himself and his purpose. Hesiodos did not specify what sort of jobs you should take. You and I assumed bodyguard, because that is what most gladiators do.” Cassia spread her hands. “
Working for a builder can pay the rent as well, depending on how much he offers.”

  “Possibly not much.” A cloaked woman hurried by beneath us, a flurry of white and muted blue. “When I worked for the builder who apprenticed me, my payment was food and a place to sleep.”

  “You were in training,” Cassia pointed out. “And a youth. From what Gallus said, he wants you as an assistant.”

  “Which sounds like not much pay at all.” I leaned back on my hands, enjoying the sunshine. “Gallus will judge what I’m good at. I barely remember my life from before the games. I’ll have to learn about building all over again.”

  “It will come back to you,” Cassia said with confidence. “I think you ought to take the employment if Gallus wants you in truth.”

  “The last builder I worked for died,” I said, the words low but succinct.

  “That was not your fault.” Cassia regarded me with sympathy.

  “I thought it an accident.” I tried to push away memories of that horrible day, but the images came to me before I could stop them. The brick structure, not yet finished, along with the roof scaffolding, in a pile of ruins. The broken and bloody body of the man who’d taken a chance on me found under the stones. “Then others discovered evidence of deliberate damage to the building. I was convenient to blame, so I was arrested.” I’d been sixteen, defiant, and terrified.

  “And sent to the games,” Cassia concluded. “The true killer never found.”

  “Why should they look for one?” I shrugged. “I’d never have hurt my master, but he’d shouted at me the day before when I was slow, and the magistrates said I pulled the building down on him in revenge. Stupid.”

  Cassia reached a hand toward me then withdrew it before she touched me. “That does not mean it will happen again. Gallus is a gentle man, and clever. I doubt he will anger anyone enough for them to try to kill him.”

  I rubbed my upper lip, which was growing bristly. I needed to visit the barber. “My builder might not have angered anyone at all. A rival who wanted the site could have had him killed.” I’d never learned exactly what had happened, and that had always bothered me.