Enslaved

by Brittany Barefield

  “Suspend your damnation for now. You are familiar with the Licinia family.”

  Her brain didn’t process his statement, as if her head were submersed in water and her eardrums heard muffled syllables strung together. “Father, I love Canus. He is a good man, not a common servant, and he is the champion of the entire Campania region. Does that count for nothing?”

  “Not in this respect. You will do as I say, otherwise I shall trade him or make sure the next fight is his last. Unless you prefer that I sell Pictrix?”

  A sinking sensation in her chest forced all air from her lungs. Pictrix was her best and closest friend. She could barely muster the word, “No.”

  “If you truly love them, you will make the right decision.” Her father stormed from Marcella’s room, leaving her to cry silently on her bed. He’d allocated her few options and all of them meant losing Canus.

  Chapter Three

  At morning meal, Marcella sat in silence. She had no appetite. Her father scowled from across the table, sometimes shifting his view from her to Pictrix as if to say, choose.

  Maro finished his food and was excused from the table.

  “Find your tongue, Marcella,” her father said. “I have much to do today.”

  “May I speak freely?”

  He nodded.

  “Who is the man you wish for me to wed?”

  “Macer Licinia. You two have always been friendly. He is doing well for himself in the army and his entire clan is of superb breeding.”

  She recalled Macer’s wealthy parents. They were fond of the games and invested in a gladiator of their own. The whole family visited the Calpurnias to see their man train. The two oldest children, bloated with notions of their pedigree, turned their noses up at Marcella, but not Macer. He was always kind. Anytime she passed him in town, he acknowledged her with a smile and waved her over for a chat. He wasn’t ugly either, and had she not been in love with Canus, the coupling wouldn’t be unthinkable.

  “Yes, I know him, and I have heard of the senior Licinia as well. He is known for his vast land ownership and funding of his brother’s military enterprises. Macer is a soldier. What do either of them know of running a school for gladiators? You are too ill to teach them, and once you are gone, the Licinias will sell this place to the highest bidder. Then what will happen to your legacy for Maro? He will be shipped to distant relatives and probably sold off as a slave. Is that what you want for your son?”

  “Do not change the subject. I have arranged a meeting for you and Macer. Opinions could waver. Perhaps he wants to move from the shadow of his father and inherit this business for himself. Maybe you can be the one who persuades him.”

  “I beg of you, do not make me marry him.”

  “Would you rather it be one you do not know, perhaps the spoiled grandson of a senator? I have one in mind.”

  “Well, why not Naso of the Ovidia clan?” She had no true interest in him. Her goal was to strike a nerve with her father.

  “The Ovidias have been our rivals in the gladiatorial games for years. What a daft suggestion.”

  “Oh, I rather favor him. I bet he would love to inherit this ludus, do you not?”

  “You would not dare attempt an elopement out of spite.”

  “Care to wager on it?”

  He rubbed his temples. “Macer is a friend. Why not give him a chance?”

  “Because I love Canus. See him elevated to a higher position and allow us to become husband and wife. This ludus is all he has known. He would never part from it. He would never send away Maro.” She held a knife from the table. “I will die by my own hand before I am separated from either.”

  “You make valid points, yet defer your suicide. This drama is unnecessary. I will ponder all options and give you a decision later.” He rose from his chair. “Until then, do not mention a word to Canus. I do not want his training affected.”

  Marcella nodded. Secretly, she intended to tell Canus once her father left for the market. He planned to inspect the newest batch of slaves, and in his absence, Marcella would have extensive time to inform her lover.

  As if sensing her thoughts, however, her father lingered in the house. He sat on the terrace, watching his gladiators exercise. With their assigned weapons, some were paired off to duel. Others lifted heavy wooden beams to build their strength. The head trainer snapped his whip to signal rotations.

  Although Canus was within shouting distance, Marcella dared not speak. She lounged near her father, fanning herself and trying to conceal her impatience. The dark clouds of desperation skulked into her psyche again. She debated whether overdosing her sick father on valerian root would be murder or a mercy killing. But the light of her humanity shined through, rendering the verdict inconsequential.

  The day wore on. The sun burned hotter. The wooden swords endlessly clacking at each other grew annoying.

  “Father, how many gladiators are we down to now?”

  “Nineteen. No, wait.” He stood and craned his torso over the banister as he pointed his index finger toward the distant field and counted. “Twenty, until the fresh stock arrives. That reminds me. I must go to market. I will not return in time for lunch. I am supping with the senior Licinia to talk business. Ensure that dinner this evening has an extra plate for Macer. Set aside arguments and make yourself presentable for introductions tonight.”

  “Yes, sir.” She had so often taken advantage of her father’s lethargy and forgetfulness that his renewed determination was shocking. His promises of punishment usually faded with time.

  As he trotted through the gates atop his horse, he sent his daughter a stern look. She smiled and waved as if this engagement threat was of no concern.

  “Pictrix,” she called over her shoulder. “When the men break for midday meal and their hour-long rest afterwards, go tell Canus to meet me in his cell.”

  “What are you planning?”

  “To leave this place with him.”

  Pictrix grabbed Marcella’s hand. “It will be dangerous. I beg you not to. Bestia will take out his rage on me.”

  “You can accompany us.”

  “I have never known freedom. If we were caught, I would be beaten or worse.”

  “Canus will know what to do. I must speak with him. Send word.”

  “Yes, Marcella.”

  Pictrix hurried to the outdoor dining hall whilst Marcella made her way to Canus’ room.

  He appeared within a minute. “Your slave summoned me. What happened?” He closed the door behind him. Cracks of sunlight streamed through. He clutched her shoulders. “Are you hurt?”

  “Father knows about us.”

  “Damn it, Marcella. You should not have come to me last night.”

  “So this is my fault?”

  “I own as much of the guilt. I blame myself for pretending we could one day have something more than a secret affair.”

  “Do not say that. We can have more.”

  “We are fools! Our discovery was inevitable.”

  “I can—I will find a way to fix everything.” Those desperate feelings surfaced again in a haze similar to liquefied obsidian. The poisonous berries, the valerian root, and the lies she told all buoyed in the dark pool, but her brain swam in the opposite direction. She could and would find a good way to fix everything. She refused to believe otherwise.

  He slumped onto his bunk, appearing very tired. “In the meantime, which of us is being removed from this place?”

  “Had I not succumbed to his demands, both you and Pictrix would be gone.”

  “What demands?”

  She wiped off her tears and steadied her voice. “He means to marry me off to another.”

  The color drained from his face. “Of course. Why send me away when seeing you punished is worse. Who will you wed?”

  “A soldier from the Licinia family. I do not want to.” She sat beside him and grabbed his hands. “You and I have to run away.”

  He scoffed. “We cannot. Bestia would never stop searc
hing for us, and I would be branded your abductor. Where can we run and how would we survive? I know little of farming, and I do not intend to have you suffering because of that.”

  Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. Her mature self knew that running away was a dumb plan. Her childish self could only cry in admittance and attempt to deflect blame. “You give me up so easily?”

  “No, but what future is there for us? I face death many times, and the only comfort is believing I lived valiantly for you. You being with another man is not as bad as the vision of you dying from starvation or sickness at my hand. At least we would be here together. Nothing will change. I know your heart belongs to me, and I have faith that you will make your father see that.”

  “What if I cannot?”

  “Then perhaps you were only with me because it is forbidden, or if a different man was champion, maybe you would be sharing his bed.”

  She slapped his face. “How can you say that? Maybe I should have been sharing a different man’s bed.”

  “Marcella...” He reached for her, but she dodged his grasp and dashed away. He would regret his words.

  ****

  Marcella strode around the atrium’s rainwater pool, belittling herself for reacting so harshly to Canus and then chiding herself for sympathizing with him. He’d practically called her a whore. What did you expect after stupidly instigating an affair with a gladiator?

  As was habit during her argumentative monologues, she anxiously twisted a length of hair around her first digit. She was extra worrisome since tonight she was having dinner with a prospective husband, one she knew was a good man. Will I hurt him with my rejection? What if he is being commanded to do this and has no interest in me?

  “Our guest is here,” her father announced at the door. “Macer Licinia, you know my daughter, Marcella.”

  Macer entered the villa with a glowing white smile. The leather strips hanging from his uniform’s belt swished against his tunic when he walked. “Pleased to see you. It has been too long,” he said with a grin and a wink.

  He stood a few inches taller than Marcella as he embraced her, but his ample body compensated for the shorter stature. If she closed her eyelids she could convince herself she was hugging a tree.

  “Yes, far too long.”

  “My apologies. I am late for dinner. I was just promoted to centurion, and the ceremony delayed me.”

  Marcella couldn’t help but be impressed with Macer’s achievement. Centurions commanded sixty to eighty men, were paid well, and regarded in high esteem for their mental and physical dexterity.

  “Congratulations,” her father said. “It is I who must apologize. My illness requires that I retire to my room for rest and will not be able to socialize. You two stay and talk a while.”

  “Yes, sir,” they answered simultaneously.

  Scipio escorted her father to his bedroom, leaving her alone with Macer.

  “Where is your little brother?” Macer asked.

  “He is playing games with Pictrix.” Her father made sure that she and her suitor would be undisturbed.

  “I remember at his age we frolicked in this pool when my family visited.”

  “Yes, we did. Let us trade water for wine tonight though.” She motioned toward the dining room. A full jug and two cups sat atop the table. Alcohol helped calm her nerves. “How are your sister and brother?”

  “As horrid as ever. Crassa is so obsessed with her social status that she married our first cousin because his father is a praetor. Lucullus is an ass. You know. You attended his wife’s first delivery.”

  “Oh, that was a messy birth.” She poured them each a cup of wine. “The baby was breech and the doctor tried to turn it. The mother was in agony and called out repeatedly for Lucullus. He refused to come until you dragged him in.”

  “He is a selfish wretch.”

  She wanted to guzzle her liquid courage but sipped it so as not to lose her wits too soon. “How are your parents?”

  “Quite a transition. I say wretch, and you think of my mother and father.”

  “I did not mean…”

  He interrupted her sentence with a chuckle. Lines creased around his mouth and eyes as he laughed. “I am joking.”

  Marcella smiled. She did think his parents were snobbish, and he probably knew that.

  “My mother is especially ready for me to settle down and give her grandchildren. Marcella, I do not want you to think I am forcing this betrothal. It is our fathers. Not that you are not a vision of beauty, of course. I have admired you for years.”

  She hadn’t suspected his feelings were any more than cordiality. His actions hadn’t revealed the contrary. “Why did you never speak of it?”

  “One’s certain proclivities are not always reciprocated.”

  “Such as?”

  “I vow only to tell my wife.” He clinked his cup against hers. “Until then.”

  “You are enjoying your particular bachelorhood.”

  “Yes, this span of peace keeps me on friendly soil. I am also fortunate to serve in the militia that remains tightly within Rome’s borders rather than along Hadrian’s Wall, which is a thousand miles north. We are able to come and go more freely. I would never be comfortable if I lost that freedom, as I am sure you would not either.” He took a long drink of wine.

  “Come to plain words.”

  “I am aware of certain indiscretions available to the women of a ludus. I would not deny my wife the right to enjoy those during our marriage, as long as she was as generous in my regard. Marcella, I do not expect you to be completely faithful. Are we at an agreeable understanding?”

  He seemed to mistakenly assume she was unmarried because she preferred having many lovers. “I do not know if I like what you are insinuating.”

  “It was not meant as an insult. Forgive my frankness.” He bowed his head.

  “All may be forgiven depending on your intentions regarding my father’s business once he dies?”

  “I have my own income, and I will inherit substantial wealth from my father. I have no need to sell this school. I rather enjoy the games. Our family has an honest reputation. We never go back on our word. You and I have always been friends. I pray it can grow into something more.” He caressed her hair. “If you marry me, I guarantee this—nothing will change for you here. You may even find some aspects quite gratifying.”

  She could only guess what other aspects he was referring to, but she certainly liked the piece about nothing changing for her and their having an open marriage. “You know I possess ways of having you extinguished from the earth should you betray this promise.”

  “I do. Powerful women intrigue me. It does not hurt that you are also extremely sexy.”

  He leaned inward and paused. She didn’t recoil. He pressed his lips to her cheek, and she didn’t turn away.

  “Is that a ‘yes?’”

  “I shall thoroughly ruminate your proposal.”

  “Excellent! I am visiting Cales tomorrow. May I accompany you to the games there?”

  The sight of her with another man would capture Canus’ attention. She thought of the envious creature he would become, so dangerously angry he would equal the nine-headed serpent-beast, Hydra. “Please do.”

  ****

  Marcella tossed and turned in her bed, waking herself from a strange dream. In it, she relived the time she had spied on Pictrix and Scipio having sex, but in this case, another man was present. Then suddenly, she no longer spied from her hiding spot. She became Pictrix, Scipio morphed into Canus, and the other person was Macer. They were sharing her body, passing her between them, and she loved it.

  Her subconscious opened a door her conscious self hadn’t allowed. The idea of this sexual trinity dampened her thighs and the underlying sheet. She stared at the ceiling, speculating if Canus and Macer would be as accepting.

  She refused to go to Canus tonight and tell him about the dream. She was still brooding over the cruel words he had said to her. Was she with him bec
ause it was forbidden and the clandestine trysts more exciting? If a different man was champion, would his bed be the one she occupied?

  She threw off her blankets and ambled toward the bath in the west wing. A long soak would clear her head. She undressed and stepped into the tub. As she soaped up her body, negative thoughts bubbled back to her mind’s surface.

  What if Canus didn’t love her and was only with her because she allowed it? A part of her believed so. He hadn’t reacted the way she deemed appropriate when she spoke of marrying another. Macer was a brave legionary from a wealthy family. Shouldn’t her lover envy such a man? If he truly cared for her, he would be jealous. She didn’t bother asking Pictrix’s opinion, being that she didn’t want Marcella to run away in the first place and was probably grateful Canus refused.

  She inhaled deeply and shut her eyes. She’d known for many reasons her relationship with Canus would be short-lived. He was a gladiator, killing without remorse or guilt, and fated to die sooner than most. How could one so disconnected from his emotions ever love her? Even if his life was spared, his family was of nomadic stock, which righteous Romans frowned upon. Her father would never bless their union, nor would anyone else. For all those facts, she should never have fallen in love with him.

  “Marcella?” a voice whispered to her from far away. She was hearing things as one does in the midst of a doze.

  “Wake up before you drown,” the voice said again.

  She opened her eyes. Canus knelt at the edge of the bath.

  “As if you care. And what are you doing in the villa? Leave now before a servant sees you and tells my father.”

  “No one saw me. You did not visit my cell tonight, so here I stand.” Removing his breechcloth, he eased into the tub and sat across from her.

  She averted her eyes toward the ceiling as if his nude presence disgusted her. “Get out.”

  “I am not leaving until I make it right between us. You must understand something. I have always known that you deserve better than I, which is why I said what I said today. If you can learn to love someone else, then you will not hate me after I die. You will not blame me for wasting your youth and beauty these years when you could have been married to a distinguished family and had lots of children. No matter how much I care for you, I can never bring you riches or respectability.”