The Warrior was tall and lean. It was clear she had been a warrior. She handled her weapons with an easy familiarity. If Birkita came up against either one of these, she wasn’t at all sure that she could win.
And then there was Claudia.
In the lupanar Claudia had been like a shadow. She rarely talked and really, Birkita had been surprised that she had lasted as long as she had. For customers, fucking her must have been like fucking a ghost.
But here, she seemed to have come back to life. Birkita didn’t know if this had just happened since her arrival but whatever the reason, Claudia was like a real person again. And it was as though Birkita was noticing her for the first time.
She was a few years older than Birkita. She was slim and in the lupanar had eaten so little that she had seemed like a dry stick that might snap at any moment. How she had managed with men on top of her, Birkita could only imagine. Claudia was graceful with fine legs and moved like a dancer. Had she had the proper training, starting in her childhood, she might well have become a very formidable warrior – strong and lithe.
And Birkita could see how Claudia had been the most in-demand girl in the lupanar. With her pert bottom, beautiful breasts and straight black hair that framed her face, she was very attractive indeed – or at least, had been one time. She had a long neck, oval face, a perfect nose and a determined chin. Her fingers were long and – Birkita thought – beautiful, unlike her own which were a warrior’s. Up until recently Claudia’s fingers had never held a weapon.
That night, Birkita explained to Claudia about the Amazons and Romans. Based on what she had heard it was clear that half of them would die. The thing was to not end up in the Amazons.
‘You’ll protect me, Birkita, won’t you?’
‘I’ll do what I can, Claudia. But you have to try to learn how to fight.’
Over the next few days Birkita set out to teach Claudia and to remember herself. Birkita didn’t know how much time she had. If what Cassius had said was true, it wasn’t very much – only a few days.
So as much as she was allowed to, she trained with Claudia, showing her the basics of sword fighting – stance, position of the arms, stabbing, lunging, parrying. Claudia was a willing pupil, took it all in and came on rapidly. She was still too gentle but Birkita spent a whole day trying to make her more aggressive.
‘Pretend I’m Cassius,’ she would say. ‘Or Antonius. Now – attack me!’
When Birkita had to fight against anyone else, she tried to be as bad as the worst of them. The Cow struck her numerous ferocious blows for her trouble – one that nearly knocked her out. The Warrior sensed what Birkita was doing and did the same thing herself. The result was a fight – if you could call it that – where they just circled each other endlessly and made half-hearted feints at each other. When Severus saw what they were doing he roared abuse at them and it was only when he threatened to put them in with the male gladiators for the night that they made any kind of an effort. In the end, they did enough to make him stop. When they were finished, and Severus had stopped swearing at them, the Warrior smiled a knowing smile at Birkita and walked away.
On the fourth day, they stopped using wooden weapons and moved on to real ones. Several of the women including Claudia sustained nasty cuts but Severus and his assistant stayed close trying to ensure that nobody was too badly hurt – or killed, which would have angered Sextus. Despite this, the Cow slashed another woman’s arm so badly that it needed to be stitched. Severus’ assistant did that while the woman screamed in agony.
Every evening after they had eaten their food, they were given some time to relax. On the third evening they were lying about and talking quietly. The Cow appeared to be asleep and the Warrior was sharpening a sword. Then – unusually – Severus came in.
‘All right, ladies,’ he said, briskly, ‘line up and get your tits out.’
The women looked at each other. Nobody moved.
Sextus clapped his hands.
‘Come on, come on,’ he said. ‘We don’t have all night.’
Silently, hesitantly they got to their feet and started to do as they were told. One or two were still reluctant holding the fabric of their tunics against their chests.
‘This is not the place for modesty, ladies,’ said Severus, and with that, he ripped a couple of tunics down to the waist.
‘Hands by your sides,’ he ordered.
Then he walked down the line, with his hands behind his back, looking at each of their chests in turn.
‘You’ll be going into the arena in two days’ time,’ he announced.
An anguished groan went up.
‘That’s the bad news,’ he said. ‘The good news is that some of you will be coming out again. We will be dividing you into two “armies” – the Romans and the Amazons. You’ll fight each other. The victorious army will be the one that inflicts the most casualties.’
He looked along the line, meeting each pair of eyes.
‘You understand what this means, I hope. The losing side will be the one that has no soldiers standing.’
Birkita looked at Claudia who was beside her. Claudia’s face was white and her eyes were wide and staring at some horror that Birkita could only imagine.
‘So this evening I’m picking the armies.’
Starting at one end, Severus walked down the line again. To each woman he said either ‘Amazon – over there’ or ‘Roman – here’.
When he was finished, Birkita stood in the same group as the Cow and the Warrior. They were the Amazons. Claudia was with the Romans. Her frantic eyes sought Birkita’s who had to look away.
But there were eleven Romans and nine Amazons. Severus quickly sorted that problem out, taking what he judged to be the largest remaining pair of breasts from the Romans. But Severus still didn’t seem happy. He stood in front of another Amazon, staring at her chest. Then he looked at Claudia’s. He went back to the first girl and cradled one of her breasts in his hand as though weighing it. Then he did the same to Claudia. She stared straight ahead, unblinking.
Severus thought for a moment.
Then he exchanged Claudia for the other girl.
That night, as Claudia and Birkita lay on their bunk together, Claudia said, ‘Have you noticed?’
‘Noticed what?’
‘The rats.’
‘What about them?’
‘There aren’t any. All the other nights you could hear them rustling in the straw but listen – tonight there’s nothing. They’re gone.’
29
Julia and Suzanne are weeding. A patch of ground has been dug and now they must take out all the weeds before it is raked over and grass seed is planted. It is backbreaking work, the standing and bending over. Several times Julia feels dizzy and as if she is going to faint. They try kneeling down in the dirt and that helps a bit but the earth is cold and wet and they can only do that for so long before they have to stand again.
Suzanne points out that it is March 21st, the equinox. ‘The days will be getting warmer now,’ she says.
Julia notices the birds for the first time. Have they been there all along? Or were they hibernating for the winter? Julia is a city girl and knows little or nothing about these things. But today, the birds are singing their hearts out – twittering, whistling, cooing. She tries to think of other words. She has been doing this a lot lately – she’ll think of a word and then try to find other words that mean the same thing. It’s since she’s become a writer – a notion that always makes her smile.
She comes up with other words – chirping, peeping, tweeting. Yes, the birds are doing all those things today.
‘Why do birds sing?’ she asks Suzanne.
‘They’re talking?’ Suzanne suggests. ‘They’re marking their territory? They’re happy?’
Julia likes this last explanation best. It strikes her how the birds here in the ghetto are unaware that they are in the ghetto. They’re just doing what they’ve always done. Why can’t people be that smart?
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It is almost exactly two months that they have been here and Julia has lost so much weight in that time. Her clothes hang on her like a scarecrow’s. She sees the same when she looks at Suzanne – she is skinny with a small waist and big eyes. Julia hopes that the weight loss will level off now that their bodies have adjusted to their new diet. It is something she tries not to think about too much.
She changes the subject to their book.
‘I never saw that coming,’ she says. ‘In the book.’
‘Saw what?’
‘Claudia. I suppose when I dreamed up Birkita’s character all I did was to try to imagine what I would like to have been like if I had lived in that time. I thought you’d do the same. But you did something much cleverer.’
‘What did I do?’
‘I thought you would be Flavia. You know – you, Flavia. But that’s not what you did at all. You’re going to be Claudia, aren’t you?’
‘I don’t know really,’ says Suzanne. ‘When I started thinking about characters, I think betrayal was very much on my mind.’
Julia winces inwardly. A knife slices through her gut.
‘The guy who betrayed me,’ Suzanne continues. ‘I wondered why he did that. Was it just a casual thing? Did he do it just because it was the law? Did he never think about the consequences – that there would be people who would be affected by what he did? Or did he hate Jews? And if he did, where did that hatred come from? Or was he – though I think this is a bit unlikely – placed in some kind of dilemma like Flavia, where she has a choice between two options – a risky one that would help other people or a selfish one?’
‘Or maybe he knew you were a girl,’ says Julia. ‘And he felt you had rejected him by not responding to him.’
‘I guess that’s possible too,’ she says. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. So anyway, that’s where Flavia came from. And then I guess, I’m in mourning for my parents. Even though I’m not really. Or rather I haven’t started. That just seemed too much, along with everything else we had to cope with. So I thought I had just put them away in a place inside my head and then I would take them out when this was all over. Then I could grieve for them properly. But I guess the mind has its own paths. Even though I had locked them away, they came out in Claudia grieving for her child. So I think that’s what happened.’
Julia is enjoying this. It is just like things are back to the way they were. But then, Julia’s mouth runs ahead of her brain.
‘So will they become lovers?’ she asks. ‘Birkita and Claudia?’
‘I don’t think so,’ says Suzanne and that is the end of the conversation.
During the afternoon, Adolf appears. He calls Julia over and says he wants to explain to her the plans for this grassy area. He talks of important visitors and children playing on the grass and how long it will take to grow and how luxuriant it has to be. The conversation – well actually, Suzanne would call it a monologue – strikes Julia as a pretty stupid and pointless one. All he is really saying is that they need to get the grass planted in time which everybody knows anyway – and they have plenty of time.
Once during their discussion, as he is talking about what a great team they all are, he puts his arm around her shoulder. Three times – Julia counts them – Adolf points at something or other and each time he does, he contrives to touch Julia’s breasts with his hand. Eventually he tells her she can go back to her work.
‘What did he want?’ asks Suzanne.
‘He wants a good kick in the balls is what he wants,’ says Julia.
Chapter Seventeen
Romans and Amazons (Suzanne)
On the morning of the day they were to fight, the women were led from their cells into the courtyard. Here two wagons had been drawn up, each of which carried a large iron cage. They were herded into the cages – one for the Romans and one for the Amazons – and then the wagons headed out of the school and into the city. Severus sat up front with one of the drivers while Severus’ assistant rode on the other wagon.
People stared at them as they passed. The sight of wagonloads of gladiators heading for the arena was not uncommon, but wagonloads of women were something else. People stared. Insults were shouted. Children ran after the wagons and threw stones or rotten vegetables or balls of mud or shit. The Cow and some of the other women gave the finger and shouted insults back. The Warrior sat on the floor of the wagon quietly. Occasionally she looked at Birkita and whenever she did she smiled.
Claudia, who sat beside Birkita, was shaking.
Neither of them had got any sleep during the night just passed. For most of it, Birkita just held Claudia and tried alternately to sooth her and to convince her that she could survive. It was not something Birkita believed.
The wagons reached the amphitheatre and entered through double doors into the interior, under the seats. Here the women climbed down and were taken through a succession of iron gates until they reached a torch-lit room. The place smelled of smoke and blood and excreta and fear. Two heavy wooden tables had been set up. On one lay Roman helmets, red tunics, swords and shields. The other had flimsy white tunics – more like short dresses really – and again, swords and shields.
Severus ordered them to take just swords and follow him out into the arena. They went through some more gates and along a torch-lit tunnel. They then passed under a low arch of brick and out from the darkness into the sunlight. At first it was so bright that Birkita was blinded. She shielded her eyes and was gradually able to open them.
From down here the place looked vast – much bigger than when she had sat on the stone benches. The tiers of white seats seemed to rise up endlessly towards a cloudless blue sky. High up, men were deploying the awnings that would shade the audience. They were like ships’ sails supported on huge rectangular wooden beams. Other figures moved amongst the seats – they appeared to be sweeping or picking things up. Down in the arena two men were shovelling sand from the back of a cart drawn by a patient donkey. Other men used long-handled rakes to spread the sand and even it out.
Severus got the women to limber up and do some mild play fighting.
‘I don’t want anybody getting hurt,’ he said.
It was as though the Cow hadn’t heard him. She knocked one opponent out – she was resuscitated with a bucket of cold water – and a second, she struck her upper arm so hard that the woman was hardly able to lift it afterwards. Given that it was her sword arm it was another death sentence. Severus cursed the Cow.
Around midday when the sun was at its height, he called a halt and ordered them back into the room with the weapons and costumes. On their way in they met the male gladiators coming out. As they passed one another in the corridor, the men tried to grope them and shouted how they would fuck them in the arena or when the Games were over. The women shouted abuse back.
After that it was a just a question of waiting. Soon they started to hear the arena filling up outside. At first there were just the sounds of a few people but slowly this swelled into a buzz and then a roar like waves on the sea. The Warrior sharpened her sword endlessly. The Cow sat in what passed for cross-legged fashion for her and appeared to sleep. Claudia sat deathly pale and quiet. Birkita looked slowly around the room, going from person to person, trying to remember their strengths, their weaknesses, their habits when they were fighting. One of the things she didn’t want to do was underestimate anybody. A small wound caused by a poor fighter could mean her death at the hands of someone like the Cow. And the Warrior was an unknown quantity. The hours dragged by mercilessly, Birkita simultaneously wishing they were over and not wanting them to end.
When the noise from the spectators outside and overhead had become constant, Severus reappeared and ordered them into their costumes. Birkita’s Amazon costume was so flimsy she felt as though she was naked. With her right breast exposed she thought she might as well have been. Shortly afterwards the Games began. The crowd went quiet and somebody made a speech, though they couldn’t hear what was said. When it concl
uded there was loud cheering. Then the first event – whatever it was – happened to roars of excitement, groans of disappointment, gasps of disbelief. Eventually it appeared to come to an end to tumultuous cheering and stamping of feet that echoed through the brickwork overhead.
A few moments later Severus ordered them to their feet. He formed them into pairs with the Romans in front. Then they went back out and down the tunnel which ended at double heavy wooden gates that opened out onto the arena. Someone behind Birkita was crying. Claudia, who stood beside Birkita, stared straight ahead, a sort of shivering tremor running through her body.
At a signal from Severus, two men opened the gates.
‘Romans only,’ he said and the first ten women made their way out into the arena. There were cheers and then gasps of surprise as the crowd saw that these were not men. Then came cheering and wolf whistles and a wave of stamping of feet so powerful it felt as though the archway overhead would collapse.
Severus organised the ten Amazons into three ranks with the Cow, the Warrior and Birkita in front. She could see the sense of it. If some of the weaker ones had been in front they might have had very little chance of getting out of the tunnel at all. Birkita glanced behind her. Claudia was in the second row. Now Birkita suddenly felt afraid too. She had only ever fought in practice – never fought to the death, never had people trying to kill her.
Out in the arena, the Romans disappeared out of sight. A few moments later, the women in the tunnel heard the words ‘We, who are about to die, salute you’ being recited. Somebody behind Birkita whimpered and whoever was crying continued to sob.
The Romans reappeared and gathered in a semicircle about ten paces back from the mouth of the tunnel. Birkita could see what they were doing – try to catch the Amazons when they would be temporarily blinded by the sun and with only three women in the front line.
The Paradise Ghetto Page 20