by Nhys Glover
Gladiator 3: TALOS
A Reverse Harem Fantasy
Nhys Glover
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. With the exception of historical events and people used as background for the story, or those clearly in the public domain, the names, characters and incidents portrayed in this work come wholly from the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental
Published by Belisama Press
© Nhys Glover 2018
The right of Nhys Glover to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This book is copyright. All rights reserved.
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OTHER BOOKS BY NHYS GLOVER
ANCIENT ROMAN HISTORICAL ROMANCES:
Liquid Fire
The Barbarian's Mistress
Lionslayer's Woman (Sequel to Liquid Fire)
White Raven's Lover (Sequel to Barbarian's Mistress)
The Gladiator's Bride (Sequel to White Raven's Lover)
WEREWOLF KEEP TRILOGY:
Guardian of Werewolf Keep
Imprisoned at Werewolf Keep
Defiance at Werewolf Keep
Insane (A novella)
NEW ATLANTIS TIME TRAVEL SERIES:
Nine Lives (Cara/Jac)
The Dreamer's Prince (Jane/Julio)
Savage (Faith/ Luke)
Shared Soul (Maggie/Travis)
Bitter Oath (Liv/ Rene)
The Titan Drowns (Eilish/Max, Karl/Lizzie, Pia/Marco)
The Key (Kat/Bart)
Pieces (Krista/Dirk)
Second Chance (Bree/Hakon)
Watcher (Jin/Rafe)
Vision of You (Ellen/Duke)
Osiris (Takhara/Dan)
Causality (Willow/Jarvidh)
Gods of Time (Teagan/Jason, Lucien/Alba)
Book of Seeds (Shay/Cy)
SCORPIO SONS SF/SHIFTER ROMANCE SERIES:
1: Colton 2: Connor 3: Cooper 4: Chase
5: Cameron 6: Caleb 7: Conrad 8: Charles
GREYWORLD SERIES:
(Paranormal Sweet Romance)
1: The Anomaly
2: Mallory
3: Earth Angel
4: Crag Wraith
REVERSE HAREM FANTASIES:
THE AIRLUDS TRILOGY:
The Sacrifice
The Chosen One
Goddess Unbound
THE AIRSHAN CHRONICLES
The Five
Daemon
The Devourer
GLADIATOR
1. Typhon 2. Asterius 3. Talos 4. Orion 5.Marcus
OTHERS:
The Way Home (Ghost Romance)
Caught in a Dream (SF Sweet Romance)
Labyrinth of Light (New Age Inspirational)
Find out more about Nhys and her books here:
www.nhysglover.com
PROLOGUE
Summer 63 CE Rhandeia ARMENIA
TALOS
I shouldn’t have been here. My only task was to return home. But I’d been dropped into the middle of this historic moment, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave before it was done. After all, it was only for a few days.
It was unlikely the Master had known the exact situation when he was overseeing the location of this particular placement of his gladiator initiates. Up until the spring of this year Nero and all those in Rome had been under the impression that the war in Armenia had been going brilliantly and the army was surging forward into Armenian territory. They didn’t know about the overwhelming and embarrassing defeat here in Rhandeia the year before because the general had kept it secret from the emperor.
How someone could think to get away with something like that I didn’t know. But when the delegates from Parthia had arrived ready to accept Rome’s surrender, and a member of Rome’s own army reported what had actually happened on the eastern front, Nero was said to have declared he’d rather engage in a hazardous war than a shameful defeat.
So the famous and skilled general, Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo, was commanded to return to Cappadocia and take charge. He gathered a huge army of battle ready-men and marched across the Euphrates.
The Parthian king, Vologases, had placed his brother, Tiridates, on the Armenian throne. When Tiridates saw Corbulo and the might of Rome turned in his direction, he decided to negotiate. Tiridates would accept Nero as his overlord if Rome allowed him to remain king.
The actual decision was made several days ago, and I had missed that momentous event. But today both armies, in full military regalia, had put on displays that would remain in the minds of all who witnessed them for the rest of their days.
The pivotal moment had been when King Tiridates, a youthful, handsome and elegant man, came forward with his diadem in hand to place it at the foot of a statue of Nero. I had seen the ceremony from a distance but not heard the words he uttered. From what I understood of it, the king had said he would not return his crown to his head until Nero himself put it there.
A powerful moment for Rome. A memorable one for me.
It had been incredibly easy to insinuate myself into the army as a lowly cook to witness this historic moment. My colour clearly separated me from the Parthians, so no one considered me a spy. And if anyone noted my muscular build and size they didn’t comment on it. Not to me, at least. So I’d been able to go about the task of seeing to the basic needs of an army, preparing more food that even I, who was known for my love of food, wanted to know about.
But it’d been worth it. Who knew if I’d ever be part of such a momentous event again.
In the junior barracks all of us gladiators-in-training had been taught history. Mostly Roman history, of course. And later we were taught military strategies of famous battles. Therefore, I understood the significance of this moment and the tactic Corbulo had employed.
The Roman general had not had to raise a weapon against his foe. All knew of his stunning military career and, with a force of obviously disciplined and highly trained men behind him, it had been like flexing impressive muscles at a weaker opponent.
Corbulo’s action said: Rome may have lost the last battle against you, but our empire is mighty. When we turn our eyes fully onto you, you have no chance of defeating us.
And Rome’s enemy had immediately capitulated.
It was a strategy I’d learned from my tutors and expected to be able to use against my own foes one day soon, after I returned home and graduated to the imperial gladiatorial ludus in Rome.
My initiation had been a grand adventure so far. I had no fears I couldn’t achieve my goal of finding my way home without resources and as an ‘escaped’ slave. The only thing that haunted my fearful dreams and nagged anxiously at the back of my mind was Accalia.
A few weeks ago we discovered our little she-wolf’s new mother was planning to marry her off to a Parthian prince, who might in turn use that connection to bring the Master’s gladiators to Parthia. And though the danger inherent in that possibility seemed less likely now peace had been declared, I doubted our master would be interested in selling any of us to an empire that might, at any turn of the sandglass, become our enemy
again.
That wasn’t the reason we had agreed to help Accalia, though. Ennia Corva had been our dear friend since Typhon had dragged her into our campsite when she was just twelve years old and we, the Wolf Pack, were thirteen. Back then we’d thought her a slave girl called Accalia. And because Accalia meant she-wolf, it had seemed fated that she become part of our pack. But her name had been as much a lie as her status was. She was our master’s daughter, a patrician born and bred, as surely as we had been born, bred and trained to be slave-gladiators. What wasn’t a lie was her loyalty to, and affection for, us.
So we had agreed to find the Master and let him know the danger his daughter was in.
At the end of our training we were all expected to undergo a trial that would forever separate us from others of our kind. Using Spartan techniques for producing fierce warriors, we had undergone ten long years of gruelling training that came to a climax in the summer we turned eighteen. We were taken to the edges of the empire and released there with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Our one objective was to return home before the end of autumn. Without money and no papers, we were in great danger because, if we were caught, we could be put to death as escaped slaves. Equally, we could take the opportunity and run, genuinely escaping our fate.
That was our master’s greatest test of our loyalty and the values he had instilled in us. At least one in every six to eight initiates per year did not return. They were declared runaways and faced the ultimate punishment if recaptured.
If we managed to make it home in time we would have passed our initiation and be considered one of the Master’s elite troupe of gladiators, greatly prized by all who knew of the rigorous process we had undergone. Our reward would be the chance to shine in the arena in front of all of Rome and the emperor himself. We could have glory, honour and fame. It was a heady dream we all aspired to.
The Master toured the frontiers of the empire in search of the perfect breeding stock for his gladiator program during the warmer months of the year. And his absence had allowed his new wife, the evil Camellia, to decide Accalia’s fate. So we agreed that whoever was dropped close enough to our touring master would alert him to his daughter’s peril. Though we all wanted to rescue her, this was the best we could expect to do for her.
At the docks in Rome we’d realised it would be Asterius who’d be the one placed close enough to reach the Master in Pannonia. When I’d discovered my destination was Melitene in Cappadocia my last hope had vanished. I was going to be nowhere near the locations on the Master’s itinerary. And yet, every moment since stepping ashore in Cilicia, I’d been forced to fight the urge to take off and try to reach him. I needed to be the one to protect our girl.
But I was not so foolhardy. And I trusted my pack-mate well enough to know he would not let our little she-wolf down. All I could hope for was that when I finally reached home I would find both Accalia and Asterius there, safe and sound.
Chapter One
March 64 CE Rome ITALIA
ACCALIA
I moved restlessly around the room I had been allocated for my stay in Rome. It was luxuriously appointed, if much smaller than what I was used to at home, with beautiful furnishings and a mural that was quite lifelike. Of course, it could not make up for the lack of real nature in this overcrowded and noisy city.
We had arrived at Pater’s cousin’s domus a few days ago. Set on Palatine Hill, if only just, my uncle boasted that he was neighbours with the emperor himself. In fact, the emperor’s domus was much higher up the hill and was surrounded by much more lofty neighbours than my uncle, who barely qualified as a patrician. Like my Pater, he was neither of the senatorial or equestrian class, as neither had the kind of money required for such status.
My uncle, Gaius Ennius Etruscus, was an unpleasant little man who alternated between looking down on Pater for continuing his father’s legacy and bragging about him to his friends. It irritated me, but it did not seem to worry Pater.
But then, Pater did not have to deal with him for long. He would be heading off in a few days for his yearly tour of the imperial frontiers. This year he had timed his departure to allow him to bring me to Rome. I could see my pack fighting during the Quinquatrus Festival, and he and I could have a few more days together before he left.
My pack had already fought once in December last year during the Saturnalia celebrations, and all of them had won their contests and become veterans. Pater had been blasé about it. His gladiators always won their first contests against other novices. It would take them a year or more before they started to be paired with opponents who would properly challenge them.
I had wanted to come to Rome in December to watch them, but the roads had been in atrocious condition, and Pater had insisted we wait until spring. There was talk of building a new road to the north that would pass right through our town, but so far nothing had come of it.
The months since my pack left had been the hardest I have ever experienced. I had come to rely on Asterius for companionship and support in a way that had become too comfortable. Oh, there was the sexual tension that was always hard to deal with, especially after our weeks alone had allowed me to experience the peaks of pleasure. Or some of them, at least. But mostly we just fitted into each other’s lives like a hand into a glove.
It had been an odd exercise in logistics, having him as my bodyguard. He could not come with me when I became Cassius, but he could not stay at the villa when I was not there. So he had taken to camping out during the day in the woods where he and his pack had spent so many happy hours. That was when he slept, because at night he was on duty while I slept. Sometimes, when we thought we could steal a few moments to ourselves, we would share pleasure in those woods. And as wonderful as that was, it was also difficult because I hated sneaking around, feared being caught, and wanted more than the limited pleasures I insisted were all we could have. I had remained adamant that my virginity belonged to the man I would someday marry.
When the others started arriving, even those stolen moments disappeared. Without discussing it, we had agreed that the pack could not know how intimate we had become. It would create jealousies between them that did not need to exist. It was bad enough that he guarded me, which was a task they all craved.
At the end of autumn they had left to join Magnus Ludus in Rome. My heart had broken as I watched them make their final journey away from their lifelong home. But I could see the excitement in their eyes, and I knew they were going off to do what they had spent their lives training for. If they missed me at all, it would not be nearly as much as I missed them. They, at least, could fill their hours with what they loved to do. I, on the other hand, was forced to give up my healing work as Cassius when Pater came home. At least this time I had him to myself, and he had resumed teaching me all I needed to know to take over from him one day.
Talk of marriage ceased. It was as if Camellia’s constant harping on the subject, and the threat posed by the Parthian prince, had made us both averse to further discussion of the topic. I was happy with my lot, and Pater was happy to have me there, taking on more and more of the management of the estate.
How long we could keep it up, I had no idea. The thought of marrying anyone was an anathema to me. After experiencing such intense intimacies with Asterius, I knew what to expect from a husband. But I could not stand the thought of sharing those pleasures with anyone but Asterius or my other pack-mates. It seemed wrong to feel that way, but it was how I felt. And, as I would never again have the opportunity to share those pleasures with any of my pack, I was content to be alone. One day that might change. But for now I was content.
Or that was what I told myself during the long, lonely nights when dreams of my beautiful men drove me almost insane with pent desire. And jealousy.
I knew that as gladiators they would become the object of female adoration, and beautiful women would be willing to pay richly for the chance to lie with such brave and handsome specimens. There would be no sexual tension and u
nmet lust for them.
My restless pacing came to an end when Minerva bustled in carrying a new stola over her arm. I looked at her expectantly.
She smiled, making her bulbous cheeks bulge out and redden. “Your pater has arranged for you to go with him to the ludus and watch the practise. There may also be time after to talk with those gladiators you favour. It amazes me that your pater allows you such intimacies with rough men like that.”
If she only knew the intimacies I had shared with one of those ‘rough men’ she would faint away completely. But all she knew was that I had befriended them when I was Cassius and that they, specifically Asterius, were responsible for saving me from the dreaded Camellia. Like everyone else, she was willing to give some leeway to my odd and socially unacceptable activities because of what that terrible woman had nearly done to me. Had done, if you counted the emotional torture she had inflicted on me during the whole time she had been at our villa.
“Those rough men are my friends, and they helped me escape Camellia. Please remember that. I will always be in their debt,” I answered, taking the new garment and wrapping it around me and over my wig-covered head.
Pater and I would be riding in litters down to the ludus because wheeled transportation was forbidden inside the walls of Rome during daylight hours. It was a slow means of transport, especially as the slaves had to make their way through the throngs of people on the streets. But walking would have been too dangerous. Thieves and cutthroats abounded on those narrow and overcrowded streets, I had been told more than once. Which only added to my unfavourable impression of the city.