Seduced by the Gladiator

by Lauren Hawkeye

  There was no way to get through this, except to get through it. I knew that if I were to let my thoughts linger on the potential outcome, I might lose my tenuous grip on sanity.

  The carpentum—one far more ornate than any I had ever seen—had been pulled right into the training area. It was accompanied by a half-dozen Roman soldiers, clad in armor, wicked-looking blades sheathed at their hips.

  “Get in.”

  Gaius was nowhere to be found, and it was a smart move on his part. Soldiers or not, had the man entered the bowels of a ludus full of trained gladiators this morning, given the mood of the men in the past week, he likely would not have left alive.

  “We are coming!” I spoke sharply when one of the soldiers smacked my bottom, hard, urging me into the back of the wagon when my movements were deemed not swift enough. I heard Christus growl from behind me, and shot him a warning glance.

  We were, at the moment, unarmed. Angering the soldiers would only result in an injury for one of us, and we needed to be in top condition if either of us was to survive.

  I cringed at the thought. Yes, it would likely take the both of us working together to stay alive. And then one of us would be forced to kill the other . . . and I would not be killing Christus.

  “Hello, lovely Lilia.”

  My feet had barely made it onto the wooden bottom of the carpentum when the man already seated in it addressed me. It was Bavarius, sitting in the wagon, looking ready to take a journey that I had not thought he was going on.

  I recoiled, backing up rapidly. Christus was behind me, and his hands came to rest possessively on my hips.

  “What are you doing here?” Lovely Lilia . . . something in the way in which Bavarius addressed me worried at a memory, but I could not connect them and did not have time to think on it longer. “I thought we were to be taken to the arena.” I did not like being in such close quarters with the man—his stench made my skin crawl. It helped that Christus was there, soothing me with his touch.

  The noise of the wagon and the soldiers had brought the men stumbling from their own quarters. In singles and pairs, they silently made their way onto the sands, and not a one of them looked happy.

  “What is he doing up there?” It was one of those closest to Bavarius himself who spoke, and it thrilled me instead to see the betrayal on his face.

  Arrogant to the last, Bavarius settled back on the bench on which he was seated, the picture of nonchalance. “Has no one yet shared this?” His smile was smug, and I wanted to take his lips and twist them until he cried. “I have been invited to play in the games as well. Three gladiators from the house of Philipus Septus Octavius. Does that not make you happy, lovely Lilia?”

  Lovely Lilia . . . in that second I knew. “You are the one telling Gaius about me.” Bavarius smirked and did not deny it. I felt sick.

  “What did he promise you?” From behind me, Christus’ voice was hot with anger. “Did he promise that you would win these games if you told him secrets? That coin and fame would be yours and yours alone?”

  Bavarius merely shrugged, content with the deal that he had clearly made. I ground my teeth together, struggling with the well of feeling—it had been enough, knowing that someone was watching me, and was reporting details of my life to Gaius. But that that person was Bavarius was an extra blow.

  The thought of his eyes on me at all revolted me to my core.

  “Ignore him.” I felt the strength of Christus at my side, watched as he glared at Bavarius. I felt better with my lover’s dominating presence there. I knew that Bavarius was far less likely to try anything with me while Christus hovered protectively.

  Inhaling deeply, I took one long look around the training area. The men surrounded it in a rough circle, their faces pale in the waning moonlight. None of them looked pleased. Not only had Bavarius betrayed one of the brotherhood—me—he had cheated each of them out of their fair chance at fame.

  A sudden realization made me laugh. Bavarius stared at me as if I had gone mad, and I could not help but smile even more.

  “You stupid, stupid man.” I saw his fists clench at my words, his knuckles turning white as his nails bit into his palms. Bavarius was never overly confident in himself, this I knew—it was why he was forever struggling to dominate those around him. He did not like insults.

  I did not care.

  “Do you not understand?” Making sure that my movements were deliberately calm, I sat on the bench facing Bavarius, folding my hands in my lap neatly. Christus sat beside me, his face as if carved from stone.

  “Gaius promised that you would win—he promised you fame throughout the Empire, wine, women, and wealth. He might have been truthful; he might not. But look around you, Bavarius.” I gestured widely to the men that he had cheated. “He did not promise you freedom, did he? You will still have to return here. And then you will have to contend with the anger of these men, and though I might be generalizing, not a one of them looks very happy with you.”

  At that moment, as one of the soldiers gave a yell, and the carpentum began to move, Bavarius did not look very happy himself.

  It was a small victory, but one that sustained me for the duration of the ride to the arena.

  I thought that Gaius should count himself a lucky man in the morning, if any of his chosen gladiators were still alive to participate in his cursed games.

  Whatever had possessed him to place thirty some men—two from each ludus—Rome’s most revered fighters, in a room together had to have taken leave of his senses. The tension in the small holding chamber was so thick that it left a taste on my tongue.

  “Perhaps the man is stupid, after all.” Christus and I sat in a corner of the small stone room, our backs pressed against the chill of the wall. We were careful not to touch, not to display affection in any way, for we did not know how the others would react to our bond.

  Likely Bavarius had told them anyway. I now understood that we had not been as secretive as we had imagined. The dominus had known, and the likeliest candidate to have told him was my enemy.

  However they had found out, we were getting more stares than the others in the room combined.

  “Gaius does nothing by chance.” I did not know the man well, but everything about him spoke of slow, methodical preparation. There was a reason that he had put us all together, where we had nothing to do but study the faces, the sizes of those we were meant to kill.

  Some I had met in the arena, in matches where both of our lives had been spared. Others I knew by reputation alone. All were strong, all were well trained. If I were to meet one of them on the sands of the arena, I felt certain that I would triumph, for I always had an edge—I was always underestimated because of my size and my sex.

  But all of them, together . . .

  Fear was a tangible thing.

  That was likely what the entire point of the exercise was. Gaius wanted us to feel fear. It would heighten the excitement of the crowd, which would in turn lead them to view him more favorably.

  “Why do you think that Gaius is holding these games?” My voice was low, meant for Christus’ ears only. “He said that he has plans. But what are they? Does he plan to run for office?”

  “That is my thought, but I do not understand why.” Christus stroked his fingers over the prickle of beard that shadowed his chin. “As brother of the emperor, his place in life is ensured. He has no need to hold public office.”

  On this point I thoroughly agreed. Again, I reflected that Gaius did not do things by chance. There was a reason, one that we would find out soon, I was certain.

  From above, a great noise, louder than thunder when it cracked across the sky, startled the stillness from the room. With cries ranging from shock to blood lust, those of us in the room stood if we were seated and pressed our backs to the wall if they were not already, instinct taking over.

  All heads turned up, squinting through the dim light, trying to see what was happening.

  Rock scraped over rock, the sounds pai
nful to the ears, as the ceiling to the chamber where we all stood slid away. The light in the room brightened, then wavered.

  I noticed that Bavarius was cowering behind a larger man, fear evident on his face. I could do naught but shake my head.

  I heard it before I saw it, the gurgle of flowing water. Great streams of it flooded into the room from above, soaking us all, unannounced.

  I gasped at the chill—the water was as cold as anything I had ever felt. The great streams continued, until my leathers were dripping, and my hair lay flat on my head.

  Christus held tightly to my hand as the wet streamed over us, making sure that we were not separated, and he sputtered as much as I.

  Slowly, the flooding ceased, dwindling to small trickles that danced down the walls of rock like snakes. Around me men shook like dogs, drying water from their eyes, their ears, cursing all the while.

  “What the fuck was the point of that?” one of them shouted, and other angry mutters followed. We all stood still, dripping to a man, as the ground-level door to our holding room was wrenched open.

  On the other side stood one of the soldiers that had come to fetch Christus, Bavarius, and myself that morning. He looked around the room with a sneer on his face, as if breathing the same air as the rest of us was far beneath him.

  “Every one of you needed a good bath.” It took a brave man to insult a room full of gladiators. The soldier gestured impatiently for us to follow him. “Single file. No talking. There are guards the entire way to the palace, so do not think to escape.”

  The palace? Surely we were not being taken to the palace of the emperor himself?

  “Hurry up.” We were led through some sort of underground tunnel, then up huge flights of stairs, and finally, finally, through a door.

  The noise of the room after the quiet of the underground was very nearly deafening. It was an assault on the senses, and I wished for my sword, to defend myself.

  Christus dared a small brush of his fingers against my back, and I inhaled deeply. His touch was a lifeline, anchoring me in this strange world that we had just entered.

  The soldier led us to the front of the room, where we were halted. Unsteady on my feet, I blinked out at the crowd of people who had paused in the midst of their party to stare—all wealthy patricians, by the appearance of their clothing, their hairstyles, and their jewels. Wine flowed freely, and had for some time, to judge by the flushed faces and glassy eyes of the rich. Slaves circulated with golden platters of juicy quinces and ripe figs, and the smell of roasted lamb made the juices in my belly gurgle.

  A great gong sounded, and the patricians ceased their talk, They all turned expectantly toward an ornately arched entryway on the far side of the room.

  Gaius sidled through, the expression on his face smug, though I imagined he thought that it was regal. A toga that could have kept an entire household in grain for a year was draped over his slender body, and the golden strands of his hair had been carefully rubbed with oil of some sort, so that his head gleamed as if he wore a crown.

  On his arm was a woman whom I had never seen before. She was tall, and while her frame was somewhat more slender and muscular than Roman society would have deemed fashionable, there was no denying that she was a very attractive woman. A toga of turquoise silk draped that frame, clinging and enticing, accentuating the collar and cuffs of massive sapphires that circled her wrists and throat.

  Her hair was arranged in a style so elaborate that it had surely taken at least two slaves hours to arrange it. Her eyes were lined with kohl, and her lips were ruby red.

  Though I did not care a whit whom Gaius chose as his companion, something about this woman, about the almost cruel curve of her lips, caused an instant dislike to be born inside of me.

  “Hilaria.” Beside me Christus jerked, as if in alarm. Somewhat amazed, I turned to look at the beautiful big man who stood beside me.

  “Christus?” We had been warned not to speak, but I had never seen him so. His body was rigid, his bearing insanely straight, like that of a soldier. His skin had gone pale beneath the gold that training in the sun had teased out of it, and his hands had clenched into tight fists.

  He did not appear to even hear me—his stare was fixed on the woman—Hilaria, he had called her.

  Though his face was carefully expressionless, when I peered into the depths of eyes that were nearly navy, I saw barely restrained fury. Not an uncommon emotion for him, but strange that it should be brought out by a woman he could not possibly know.

  Gaius chose that moment to speak, and I was forced to again face front, to look out in the crowd of people. The bright colors of their togas, the flash of their jewels—none of it seemed at all real to me. They did not seem real.

  In turn, the strange creatures seemed incredibly interested in me, the lone female among the massive crowd of vicious men. Stares were plentiful, and I felt a blush wash over me when I realized that the frigid water had forced my nipples erect. They jutted against the clinging, damp leather of my top, and I saw several of the men eyeing me with lust in their eyes.

  “Friends, we gather tonight to honor these warriors.” I very nearly snorted at Gaius’ choice of words. To honor us would be to leave us to our own lives, not to force us into a game in which all but one would die. “Tomorrow, the greatest games that Rome has ever seen will begin. These gladiators are the strongest, the fiercest. The most celebrated. They fight to please the citizens of Rome.”

  Taking a cup of wine that Hilaria handed to him, Gaius drank deeply before saluting the crowd, who cheered loudly in return. “Before they fight, I feel that we owe them some pleasures. So this evening they will walk among you, they will feast, they will drink. They will be pleased and they will, I think, please you.” With a lascivious wink, he downed the remaining contents of his cup, then tossed it on the floor. Despite our admonition to remain silent, the men around me began to mutter with no small measure of excitement.

  We would be permitted to partake in the feast? To drink, to be counted as equals among the patricians for the night?

  The notion did not seem right.

  But the gong again sounded, and Gaius gestured widely to the room, shouting at his guests to enjoy. His gaze moved unerringly to me, and I snarled in return. Turning to whisper in the ear of the woman at his side, he gestured in my direction. She smiled that strange smile of hers, standing on her tiptoes to survey the long line of gladiators.

  Her eyes roamed over me, drinking in the details, and I could tell the exact moment at which she decided that I was beneath her notice. She looked on, looked beside me to where Christus still stood, his muscles still clenched incredibly tight, and I watched surprise wash over her features.

  “Christus?” Hilaria’s mouth fell open a bit, and then she smiled wickedly, turning to Gaius to whisper something herself.

  “Christus. What is going on? Who is she?” The line of gladiators still stood, a neat stripe at the front of the room, all eyes on us, and Christus shook his head, which I took to mean that he would tell me later. Then one brave soul, or perhaps a very foolish one, depending on how it was looked at, slowly, tentatively approached the line of gladiators.

  I saw that it was the dark-haired woman from the small party at the house of my dominus, and I shuddered. The woman moved slowly, but unerringly, toward a man I knew only as the Beast.

  He was the largest of us all, standing well over six feet. Though not particularly handsome, neither was he ugly, and I saw instantly where the woman’s intentions lay as she handed him her cup of wine, then took his hand in hers.

  Oh, gods. This party was not meant to be a pleasure for us—or perhaps it was, for the Beast followed the woman eagerly enough—it was yet another opportunity for Gaius to gain favor, this time with the patricians of Rome.

  Those with wealth were often bored. What could be more exciting than mingling with warriors who were so dangerous? Or eating with them, drinking with them . . .

  Perhaps even fucking them
?

  “What a circus.” As I looked up at Christus, I was glad to see that he shared my thoughts. I supposed that I understood the eagerness of some of our brothers—not every ludus permitted visits from whores, and it had likely been years since many of the men had touched a woman. I would bet money that none of them had ever lain with a patrician woman, one whose skin had been waxed of hair, who smelled of expensive oils, and who wore jewels.

  I did not want to be touched. Even if I had not belonged to Christus now, I would not have wanted to feel strange fingers on my skin.

  “Come. If they are feeding us, then let us eat.” Christus appeared to be studying what was rapidly turning into a romp of pure debauchery, but I saw that his eyes kept flickering to where the woman Hilaria stood. In turn, she seemed to be ignoring him, but the positioning of her body, the movements of her head, suggested that never for a moment was she unaware of his presence.

  Was she . . . could they have . . . jealousy began to simmer in my blood as Christus pressed a hand to the small of my back and nudged me into the crowd. I went, because in among the sea of bodies, we would not be so much on display.

  I forced away the strange sensation—never in my life had I been jealous, and now was not the time to start. Besides, what I feared was impossible—Christus was a gladiator, a slave. He had been so for a very long time. Never would he have had a chance to fuck a woman noble enough to be Gaius’ public companion.

  Christus nodded once, some of the stiffness leaving his shoulders as the crowd swallowed us up. “We need the strength for tomorrow. You especially.” His mood lightened now that the eyes of Hilaria and Gaius were not fixed solely on us, and he smiled down at me and even dared to cup his hands around my waist briefly.

  I scowled, but I did not mean it. In truth, his touch made fire burn inside of me. I wanted to touch him, to run my hands over his bare chest.

  With the epic Battle of Gaius on the horizon, I did not know if I would ever be able to again.

  Christus saw the heat in my eyes, and flame ignited in his own. He banked it, let it smolder a dark blue as he led me to a great table where platters of enough food to feed an army were arrayed.