Passion and Sand; Taming the Rebel

by Andromeda -

  “Doctore.” a servant said, “they have arrived.”

  “Bring them over here,” Barack ordered.

  The servant nodded and directed the guards to bring in a dozen tightly shackled men. These were the new recruits. However, that was a strong word as being a recruit meant that they had a choice in being in the Ludus. These men had all been bought and all had the brand of slavery burned into their heels.

  “Line up!” Barack barked as he held his whip in his hands.

  He must inspect them, and any who didn’t meet his standards would be discarded of. As he walked down the line, out of the twelve before him, he nodded for seven to step forward, but when he got to the end, he stopped.

  Before him, stood a German, a very tall and imposing German. Germans were rare, as most Romans believed them to be untamable. As he looked into the man’s eyes, Barak felt something and saw something.

  A familiar spirit.

  The man was wild. His long blond hair obscured most of his appearance, but Barack could tell that he had a handsome face as soon as he was cleaned. Sometimes looks helped in the arena, as a handsome man was more likely to impress the crowds if his combat skills did not.

  “Him, too,” Barack said as he nodded to the German. “The rest will be removed.”

  The guards removed the unchosen, and then Barack looked to the men whom he had picked. Unwrapping his whip, he snapped it in the air, the loud crackle echoing within the ears of those in attendance. The gladiators all stopped what they were doing and walked to where Barack stood.

  “Today,” the African said, “we have eight men who believe they are worthy to join the Ludus Magnus. What do we say to men who think thus?”

  “No suffering! No honor! No glory!” the gladiators all yelled as one.

  “That’s right,” Barack said with a nod. “To become one of us, they must suffer. To become one of his, they must have honor. After they have suffered and found their honor, only then can they receive their glory among the sands of the arena! But first, they must be trained. Bring out the practice swords. Let us see how skilled they are.”

  ✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

  Ayanna stood behind Aurora, a bottle of honeyed wine in her hands. Aurora stood next to her brother, Cornelius, both watching the gladiators below. The only children to the Emperor of Rome, they held high standing among the elite, with Cornelius looking to be the heir.

  “When is Father returning home?” Aurora asked her brother.

  Cornelius shrugged and held out his silver goblet for more wine. “Who knows? In his last letter, he said by the end of harvest. The harvest was two weeks ago.”

  “Maybe he was busy?” Aurora said. “The roads might be blocked for all we know.”

  Cornelius rolled his eyes. “What care I? For all we know, he has been set upon by bandits.”

  “Corny, don’t say such a thing,” Aurora scolded him. “Father has always been there for us.”

  “For you, perhaps,” Cornelius grumbled into his cup. “But never me.”

  The weight of being the heir to any empire was great, and being the heir to the most powerful empire in the world was even greater. Almost from the moment of his birth, Cornelius had to prove himself to the man he called Father. He had to prove that he was worthy to be considered his heir, and not weak for his father to claim one of his other relatives as heir.

  As the new gladiators began to spar and train among themselves, one of them, a Greek named Artemus, lounged in the shade. The undisputed Champion of the Ludus Magnus, he held the respect of all for never losing a fight. His brown eyes were drawn, however, to the German, who fought as if he had nothing to lose and used his weight to his advantage.

  “Enough,” Barack barked as he snapped his whip. “You, German, stop.”

  The German man grunted and turned to look at the African with glaring eyes, his hand tightly clenched around the wooden sword.

  Barack looked to him. “You believe you are better than those here? You believe you are a great warrior?”

  “I do not believe it,” the German said in rough Latin, “I know it.”

  “Is that so?” Barack asked, as his lips curved into a smirk. He looked to the balcony where Ayanna stood.

  The woman looked to Aurora. “My Lady, I must go.”

  Aurora nodded and Ayanna placed what she held in her hands and hurried to get to the arena. The guards opened the doors for her, and when she walked in, all the men stepped back and allowed her to enter the sands.

  The German man looked her up and down and growled. “A woman? I will fight, a woman? Where is the honor in that?”

  “Unless you think you’re a cunt,” Ayanna answered hotly. “This will be quite easy.”

  The German growled and picked up his wooden sword. Without a word of warning, he attacked.

  Ayanna easily dodged his attack and spun to the side. Grabbing another wooden sword in her own hands, she slashed with it, aiming to wound but not kill. The German was surprised by how easily she dodged, and when she attacked back, the sword slashed and caught him in the cheek.

  She had drawn first blood.

  At the sight of the crimson upon his fingers, the German roared with fury and lashed out, attacking blindly. She studied his movements, dancing around him until she found the opening.

  Slashing with her sword, she grabbed his hair and jerked his head back. When he reached blindly for her, she kicked out her leg and tripped him. While he tried to catch himself, she grabbed his sword and leapt forward. Straddling him, she ‘scissored’ the swords on his neck.

  Panting heavily, she looked into those magnetic blues and saw…a soul like her own. Eyes like someone who had been betrayed by the one they thought they loved…only for greed to take hold, on the heels of the Roman empire. This man, too, had felt great loss. But before she could ask him questions, Barack cleared his throat and she got off him.

  “Well done, as always,” he said to her. “However, your form was loose a bit. Make sure you tighten it.”

  “Understood,” Ayanna said with a nod.

  As she turned to leave, all the men’s eyes locked onto her swaying hips, only to turn back to face Barack when he snapped the whip.

  “Head to the bath house,” he ordered. “And get food. You new recruits, partner up with one of the elders.”

  The German walked behind the others, his eyes critically looked around to try and find a way to escape, but there weren’t any. The Ludus was tightly secured, and he was going to have to take his time in plotting an escape.

  “Greetings,” a voice at his side said.

  The German looked in surprise and found himself looking into a pair of large grey eyes. The man next to him was short, with large grey eyes and brown hair that fell to the nape of his neck. He didn’t respond and instead continued to walk.

  “I guess you aren’t much of a talker,” the man said. “That is fine. I’m Aleron. What’s your name?”

  Again, the German said nothing.

  He followed the others within the barracks, down the halls into the cells and to the bath house where slaves were helping them. All the men were stripped naked, some talking, others soaking in the hot waters of the bathing pool. This confused the German, as with his people, this wasn’t something that they would do. In fact, public bathing was frowned upon unless they were all the same gender.

  “Do you need help?” Aleron asked.

  “No,” the German said shortly.

  Aleron frowned with a sigh. “Look, I understand that you might not like it here, but it’s not all bad.”

  “You weren’t torn from your homeland,” the German grumbled.

  Aleron said nothing, however, it was clear by his body language that the subject was tender for him. So, he began to walk away, but his silence did not go unnoticed by the German, who secretly felt ashamed of himself for pushing away someone who was trying to help him.

  “Kaiser,” the German finally said after several moments. “My name is Kaiser.”

&
nbsp; Chapter Four

  Kaiser grunted as the guard’s fist connected with his nose, but before the man could pull it back, he grabbed the arm and flipped him over his head. He knew he was stupid in trying to attempt this, as this was his third escape attempt that month. At least he believed it had been a month since he had come here. Time in Rome confused him greatly, but he knew one thing: he was going to escape.

  As he threw another punch to a second guard, one of them dropped a sword, which he quickly picked up. They surrounded him, their weapons ready to kill, but the crack of a whip in the air made them stop.

  “Enough!” Barack barked to them. “Drop the sword. Now!”

  Kaiser gritted his teeth and growled in anger, but he could tell he was outnumbered. He wouldn’t survive if he tried to attack them again. He had to be smart. So, slowly, he lowered his sword. A guard grabbed it quickly, while another grabbed him and held him down while his hands were bound with rope.

  “Take him to the stakes,” Barack ordered. “He will receive ten lashes.”

  Kaiser knew they were trying to break him, and he knew that his will would have to be steel-bound for that to not happen. So, even when he felt the leather cut into the skin upon his back, he did not once cry out. He grunted and dug his nails deep into his palms until they bled, but he did not make a single sound of defeat.

  He was dragged back to his cell and told to wait for a servant to come salt and bind his wounds. They wanted him healthy it seemed, though Kaiser didn’t exactly know what was going on here. They were training him to be a gladiator, but to what extent, he did not know. All he did know, however, was that he wasn’t going to bow to these people. Romans…how he hated them all.

  The slave assigned to treat him was Ayanna, and the moment the African girl rounded the corner and saw him, his face flushed red. He remembered her. He remembered how she kicked his ass in simple combat. He felt so ashamed. How would he call himself chief, when a woman defeated him so easily?

  “Have you come to put an end to my torture?” he grumbled.

  “No,” Ayanna answered with a smirk. “I am here for your manhood. Oh, wait, you lost that in the arena not long ago. Along with your pride and maybe your honor.”

  “Hold your tongue, girl,” Kaiser growled low.

  “What will you do to me?” Ayanna asked as she put her box of herbs down. “All I have to do is cry out, and the guards will come to my aid. Now be silent and present your back to me.”

  Kaiser grunted, but nonetheless turned around for her to tend to his back. Ayanna examined him before she got to work in sewing up the large cuts and then rubbing a healing balm she made herself upon them. For a while, they sat in silence, the only sound being the occasional grunt from Ayanna.

  “He gave you his gentle hand,” she said to break the tense silence.

  “You call that a ‘gentle hand’?” Kaiser grunted.

  “Yes, I do,” Ayanna said. “He normally strips flesh from bone in a single lashing. He must favor you.”

  “I do not know the African,” Kaiser grunted. “So, I do not see how or why he favors me.”

  “You are really steel-necked, aren’t you?” Ayanna asked after she finished. “Barack hasn’t been this nice to anyone, save Artemus.”

  “Who is that?” Kaiser asked.

  “The champion of this Ludus,” Ayanna explained. “And you will be wise in showing him respect.”

  Kaiser grunted. He refused to show respect to anyone within these walls. Ayanna looked at him, a frown on her lips, but said nothing. Gathering her things, she walked to the cell door and then stopped, turning to face him.

  “None of us asked for this life either,” she said. “But we have learned to cope, and are handling it the best we can. You have to learn your place here and do the same. The life of a slave, though hard, can be rewarding in the end.”

  ✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

  The talk with the German weighed heavily upon the mind of Ayanna as she went about her duties. He had tried to escape more times than any other had, and yet, he was still alive. She thought the guards would have killed him by now, yet Barack stilled their hand. There was a hidden reason he didn’t want this German to be killed, but what could it be, she wondered.

  As Ayanna gathered Aurora’s afternoon meal, she began to walk to the girls’ chambers when she stopped. She stood in front of a window, and as she looked out of it, she saw, in the distance and heading their way, a small circle of armed guards that led a carriage. She could see the colors of the banners that snapped in the breeze and her heart sank to the pit of her stomach when she recognized them.

  Hurrying as fast as she could to Aurora’s chambers, she put the platter down and rushed to find her as soon as possible. She found Aurora sewing, a pastime she seemed to enjoy, but when she looked up and saw her friend’s face, she put it down and leaned forward.

  “What is wrong?” she asked.

  “T…They are here,” Ayanna said. “Why are they here?”

  Aurora knew instantly who ‘they’ were, and she, too, wondered why they were here. Rising from her seat, she fixed her clothes and left her chambers to go and greet her guests with Ayanna at her heel.

  “Announcing Lord Aurelian, and Lady Aurelia,” a servant called out.

  The hazel-eyed, golden-haired, milk-skinned twins stepped forward, their sharp eyes looking over the Imperial Palace with veiled envy. The highly-spoiled son and daughter of a powerful senator, they were used to getting what they wanted. A treaty was made not long ago in order to secure their family’s allegiance with the imperials—that the daughter might marry Cornelius, while the son, Aurora. However, the treaty was shaky at best, easily broken and forgotten.

  “Greetings,” Aurora said through a forced smile.

  “Aurora,” Aurelia said with an equally forced smile upon her lips as she kissed her ‘friend’s’ cheeks. “What a wonderful day to see you.”

  “The pleasure is all mine,” Aurora said. “What brings you here?”

  “Just a trick passing through as we head to our country estate,” Aurelian answered. “We thought we might spend the night.”

  Aurora’s forced smile became tighter. “Of course,” she said through semi-gritted teeth. “Ayanna, see to a pair of chambers for them.”

  Ayanna nodded and backed out of the room, but she heard Aurelia speak as clear as day.

  “You still have that African?” Aurelia asked. “I thought you would have sold her by now.”

  “Why would I do that?” Aurora asked. “Ayanna is my best friend.”

  Aurelia snickered. “Your best friend? My dear, she is a slave. Being friends with her is far below your station.”

  “It might be,” Aurora said firmly, “but I tend to surround myself with people who I can trust and who are loyal. Ayanna is at the top of that list.”

  Ayanna couldn’t help but softly smile to herself as she listened to Aurora stick up for her. Normally meek and quiet, Aurora hardly spoke in a voice above a whisper at times, yet when it came to defending those whom she deemed defenseless, she did not hold back. Aurora valued loyalty, and Ayanna had been loyal to her since the second she saw her. Aurora had told her time and time again that she would be freed, though she did not know the date. But Aurora was the type of person who never broke a promise once it was made, thus Ayanna believed her.

  Friendship was a rare thing among the Roman elite, as they all constantly grabbed and clawed for power. You never knew who was for you, and who was against you.

  ✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

  “Will you show me the new gladiators your father has bought?” Aurelia asked as she bit into a grape.

  Aurora, the twins and Cornelius all lounged on couches as they ate. Ayanna stood dutifully beside her mistress, else she need anything.

  “I might,” Aurora said. “How did you know we had new gladiators?”

  “Everyone knows that the Ludus Magnus hosts the greatest gladiators in all of Rome,” Aurelian answered. “And after nine of your
s died in that elimination match, it is only wise to replenish your stock.”

  “You speak of them as if they are nothing more than chattel or farm animals,” Aurora said as she accepted the cup of wine Ayanna held out to her.

  “Because they are,” Cornelius chuckled. “They are slaves. Nothing more, and nothing less. It is known that their minds do not think as we do.”

  “I do not think that,” Aurora said bravely. “If that was so, how would Ayanna be so skilled in the art of combat?”

  Aurelian and Cornelius both looked at the African woman with clear hunger in their eyes before they looked away. That single moment made Ayanna highly uncomfortable.

  “She is a rare breed,” Cornelius said. “And her mother was a queen. Thus, she comes from good stock.”

  “Have you thought of maybe breeding her?” Aurelian asked bluntly.

  Ayanna’s heart froze in her chest at his words. Though it was Aurora who spoke on her behalf, clearly enraged.

  “What are you suggesting?” Aurora asked, nearly choking with rage. “I treat her like she’s cattle?”

  “She obviously has good blood,” Aurelian explained, as if she spokle . “Our father has considered breeding his slaves. Not to make more, but to make the ideal one: one who is of complete obedience, but also skilled in battle. We have a male who is already a candidate, all we need is a female…”

  “Absolutely not,” Aurora snapped. “Ayanna will not be treated that way, on any level.”

  Aurelian shrugged as if they were speaking of the weather. “It was only a suggestion. But if you ever change your mind, let me know.”

  “I highly doubt that,” Aurora snapped.

  Though Ayanna was proud of Aurora for once again speaking up for her, the knowledge that her life was not her own came as a slap in the face.

  She was a slave.

  Her life belonged to Rome.

  Her body belonged to Rome.

  If Aurora was a cruel mistress, she could very well use her for ‘breeding stock’, as she heard that some masters did do with their slaves. Yet, she thanked the gods repeatedly that she was not. But the knowledge that she owned nothing in this life, not even herself, always managed to drag her spirits low.