The Gladiator’s Master

by Fae Sutherland

  Belatedly, he remembered to lower his eyes. Any show of submission, even one so small as that, stung his pride. But he’d learned to play the puppet show for them, though he knew he fooled no one. For the Romans, a show of respect was as good as the real thing. He had felt better about it when he realized most of them didn’t care if you actually respected them. Just that you appear to so they lost no face with their peers or their men.

  “Yes, I see. You ask much, Argon.”

  Food, water, a clean body and clothes not crawling with vermin was too much? “I do only the task you set me to, Dominus.”

  “True, which is more than I can say for most Craxus left behind. Do not misunderstand me, I am glad you ask for what you need. For too long no one has spoken out.” He beckoned the young slave by Gaidres’s side. “Seek out Felix and tell him that the men need clean tunics and subligars, two apiece. They are to be replaced when worn or shredded.”

  Once again he was surprised at not only how easily Caelius acceded to his request, but the way he took it a step further. It appeared he at least understood the value of the men. “You are most generous, Dominus.” Gaidres was not fool enough to take the man’s generosity as more than what it was, however.

  “Generous? No, merely practical,” Caelius replied.

  Just as he had thought. Merely a man looking to protect his property. Still, it was difficult to remain angry when Caelius frowned and turned to gesture for more water to be brought. The tubs were becoming filthy and Gaidres was waiting for the others to go first.

  “Tell me, Argon, are there any sicknesses or untended wounds among you or your men?”

  “They are not my men. They do not belong to me.” He resented even the faint implication, on any level, that he was anything like those who kept men like rabid dogs to battle for their lives.

  Caelius blinked, glancing at him. “No, they belong to me. But I did leave you in charge…”

  Gaidres kept his eyes on the wall across the room rather than risk glaring with murderous intent at the new lanista. “We have not trained properly in many weeks, so no new wounds are present.” He could not count how many times he’d watched the medicus drain the poison from these men, and himself, because a small wound had been exposed to the filth.

  “And illness? Are the men healthy?”

  He couldn’t stop himself. “Do they look healthy?”

  The truth was none but a few would last more than seconds in the arena, no matter how much coin Caelius spent. They’d been too long neglected, too long in squalor. He did not think they would recover. He didn’t say so, though. He would not be responsible for those men being tossed to the mines to live their short days in darkness, struggling to draw another breath.

  Caelius looked over the men, one by one, and Gaidres was sure it was clear that, of them, perhaps a handful were salvageable as fighters. The rest had the look of once hardy men who had been ravaged away to nothing.

  Slaves brought in clean water, replacing the filthy, and Caelius gestured to one of the new tubs as other men began to dry off with the cloths. “See to your own bath. The new tunics should be here soon.”

  It felt good to be rid of the filthy subligar. The strips of cloth and leather fell from around Gaidres’s hips and thighs. As he sat on one bench and bent forward to unwind the straps of his sandals he glanced up and saw Caelius watching intently. Gaidres straightened, meeting his eyes boldly. The rumors that their new owner favored men were true, then. Interest flared in the man’s dark eyes when Gaidres stood and Caelius let his gaze drop to Gaidres’s cock.

  He scowled and reached for a cloth, dipped it in the cool water and began scrubbing at the grime that coated what seemed like every inch of him.

  “How long have you been here, Argon? You are much healthier than the others.”

  Gaidres pressed his lips together and cut the man a sideways glance. “Three years, Dominus. I have always been of strong health, though.” He wasn’t going to elaborate unless pressed. Men did what they must to survive. With the help of his friend, Demos, Gaidres had often snuck out of the poorly guarded barracks to find extra food. He had also never stopped working hard every day to hone his body, his skills. He would not let the likes of this place kill him before he found his revenge. Somehow, though, he did not think his new master would appreciate his efforts, if he knew the reason for them.

  Caelius did not seem interested in more questions, however. He watched as Gaidres scrubbed his entire body down, rinsed and started again, this time rubbing oil over his skin and scraping it away with the strigil, a smooth, slightly curved stick. Clothing had come and the others had dressed and drifted back to their temporary quarters until slaves cleansed the barracks.

  “You are Thracian, correct?” Gaidres stilled at that question, a flash of pure hate slicing through him. No doubt Caelius was salivating at the coin to be made off him. The crowd loved little more than seeing a Thracian die on the sands. Oddly, they loved it just as much when one excelled there. The Roman citizenry were a fickle lot.

  Caelius continued to watch, making no effort to hide his interest. Why should he? The man owned him and Gaidres was no fool. Caelius wanted him. And not just as his champion in the arena.

  “I am, Dominus.” Gaidres did not elaborate further and to his relief, Caelius did not ask any more questions about where he had come from. He had no desire to talk about his former life with this man. Perhaps it was a good thing the man only eyed him instead of indulging his curiosity in other areas.

  “You will be in the temporary barracks for the time being. Until I’m sure that no vermin lingers in the cells and the renovations are complete. It shouldn’t be more than a week or two before you can return to your own quarters.”

  He turned toward Caelius. “You mean we’re to sleep in the villa itself? Not in the courtyard or cells?” He hadn’t expected that and his mind leaped to how he could use it to his advantage. He might find the chance to have his vengeance on the last member of this cursed family and then there would be one less Roman master in this world.

  “The men are too ill-used to be without shelter for even one night.” Caelius’s gaze dropped to Gaidres’s chest before meeting his eyes again. “There will be guards of course. I am a prudent man, Argon. I do not know which of your number might be a criminal or who might carry a grudge against their master.”

  He looked away, lest Caelius deduce he was one such gladiator. If the man suspected any danger, it would be some time before he relaxed enough so Gaidres could find opportunity to end his life.

  He could only hope. And if not, may the gods have mercy on the Roman who owned him next.

  “And of course, there might be those who would seek to steal their freedom,” Caelius continued. “Be assured I have fortified this villa far more than my uncle had. If you fear any of your men might attempt such an escape, best you warn them the effort would be both futile and deadly.”

  He scraped the strigil down one thigh, glancing up at Caelius. “None would dare, Dominus.”

  What good was freedom? Gaidres had no use of it. There was nothing for him outside these walls, any more than there was within them. There was only revenge.

  “I pray you are right.” Caelius straightened as Gaidres rinsed himself off with the last bucket of clean water. “Shall I call for more water?”

  Gaidres shook his head and reached for one of the cloths to dry himself before Caelius could send another slave off to do his bidding. It was so easy for some men to order others about without thought, to have the power of life and death over them. Those same men would not last a day being slaves themselves.

  “Gratitude, Dominus, but I am finished.” It was good to be clean again, to feel like a man instead of an animal. From Caelius’s lingering stare, he gathered that the man approved of the difference, as well.

  Gaidres was resigned as he began to put on the new clothes that had been provided. Caelius would order him to his bed and there was little Gaidres could do to dissuade him. A
nd though he might have noticed that Caelius was a good-looking man with features that spoke of generations of fine breeding, he had no desire to play the whore for him.

  “Before I go…what is your name?”

  Gaidres’s eyes narrowed; the question must be a trap. “I am called Argon, Dominus, as you know.”

  Dark eyes radiated amusement. “I ask for your true name, given by your mother.” Caelius’s brows lifted.

  “I…” He paused, then shook his head to clear it. He could see no harm in the sharing. “Gaidres.”

  “Gaidres.” Caelius smiled as if he liked the taste of it on his tongue. “Well then, Gaidres, I shall take my leave of you. You need your rest and the chance to put a little more food in your stomach before you sleep.”

  Gaidres met the knowing look in Caelius’s eyes with surprise. The other man knew what Gaidres had expected to happen. There was no explanation forthcoming as Caelius turned to leave. Gaidres frowned as he finished winding his fresh subligar around his hips. What game was the Roman playing?

  Then he shook his head. It did not matter. Whatever games Caelius thought to engage in, Gaidres would not be drawn in. His goal was clear, had been from the day he’d been captured—it was Craxus who had been responsible for his taking and the loss of everything he loved. Gaidres would not rest until there were no more of his bloodline to do the same to any other.

  This Roman would die. Perhaps then Gaidres would know peace.

  Chapter Two

  Caelius emerged from the tunnel into the courtyard and shook his head. He would have to insist Gaidres get some rest. The other gladiators were taking full advantage of the comforts of the temporary barracks, the frequent meals and daily baths.

  Gaidres took his fill of the food and wine, but every day without fail he spent hours in the courtyard, prowling, testing his strength. He seemed a man driven to move, a man possessed with a restless spirit and unable to take his ease as the others did.

  “Enough. The full sun will be upon you soon.”

  Gaidres whirled around, his muscles tense.

  He lifted a brow. “You do not allow yourself the time to recover as your fellow gladiators do.”

  Gaidres straightened, his face expressionless as he lowered his eyes. “Apologies, Dominus. I did not realize anyone was watching.”

  Caelius waved the apology aside as he approached. This wasn’t the first time he’d watched the gladiator unawares, nor would it likely be the last. He liked seeing how the other man moved. Even weak, no longer at his best thanks to Craxus, Gaidres still had all the sensual grace of a predator.

  “No, I notice you are very focused. Why do you not rest like the others?” Caelius had noticed several others sometimes trained with Gaidres, but more often than not the Thracian could be found sparring with the palus, a wooden block roughly the size and shape of a man, or practicing maneuvers alone. He was tireless and Caelius had growing concern that he might be pushing himself too hard.

  Gaidres turned back to the palus, his wooden sword striking it with enough force that splinters flew and the sound echoed in the courtyard. “I have not been here as long as they, Dominus. I recover more quickly.”

  Caelius frowned at the way the other man turned away from him, seeming to dismiss him as he went back to his training. He came around to stand on the other side of the palus, directly in Gaidres’s line of sight.

  “Regardless, I do not wish you to overexert yourself. It is nearing midday. Go and rest, share your meal with the others.”

  Gaidres dared not make eye contact. “With respect, Dominus, I would choose to continue my training.”

  “It was not a suggestion. Go. You may train further when the sun begins to wane.”

  His uncle’s villa in Fidena was a very different world from his home in Caere. There his people did not mistake his kindnesses for weakness and seek to take advantage. He suspected Gaidres misunderstood his concern, and thought him a soft noble, easily manipulated.

  Gaidres’s eyes hardened and he forgot himself long enough to glare at Caelius. Good. It was better to have such anger out in the open to be dealt with than buried where it could smolder. “Apologies, Dominus,” he ground out. Then he jerked his eyes down and stalked over to the water trough to cleanse the sweat from his face, his entire body tense.

  By the gods, the man’s anger made Caelius’s heart race. The danger of him sizzled and Caelius could not resist it. “I am not my uncle. I’ll not have you whipped for an insolent look or because it entertains me to see others in pain. But as I told the overseer when we were all in the courtyard several days ago, I do expect to be obeyed.”

  “I understand, Dominus.” Gaidres straightened and wiped the water from his face. “Your word is law here. It will not happen again.”

  “Somehow I doubt that. You do not seem a man who hides his opinions well.”

  Caelius drew closer, his cock stirring. As much as he wanted to offer a proposition to him, Caelius didn’t know if the man’s interest lay in men or women and hadn’t seen anything yet to tell him. Sex without mutual interest was uninspiring and so he would wait. Bide his time and watch to see if he could learn what, if anything, might set Gaidres ablaze in return. What a thrill that would be, to see a man such as this burn. For him.

  “What matters the opinion of a slave? A gladiator?” Gaidres made a scoffing sound, though whether it was toward himself or Caelius was unclear. “I have none of interest, I assure you.”

  He did not believe that for a moment. Much lay hidden behind those angry, flashing blue eyes. He would wager his family fortune that Gaidres had within him the intelligence to take on entire empires if he chose. It made him a bit nervous, bringing to mind another Thracian of many years past who had done just that. The name Spartacus still caused many a noble to tremble in fear. Caelius was not one to ignore the past. He ought to be more careful with Gaidres. He was not to be underestimated, Caelius was sure.

  And then Gaidres did something Caelius had not expected. His gaze, still filled with the ever-present anger, lowered, raking over Caelius from head to toe. When their eyes met again, the look in Gaidres’s eyes made Caelius’s belly clench. Was that desire? The gladiator was difficult to read, all other emotions seeming drowned out by the strongest one—barely concealed hatred.

  “It matters to me.” Caelius ignored Gaidres’s disbelieving look and turned to gesture for a guard. “Now, go rest. You may return this evening.”

  He looked as if he might protest, then seemed to think better of it and stalked off with the guard. Caelius watched him go, his mind already reliving that lusty look. He had no doubt he would be thinking of Gaidres as he pleasured himself that night.

  Gaidres stretched his right arm across his chest in an attempt to loosen the painful knot of muscles in that shoulder as he followed the guard through the villa toward the temporary barracks. His sword arm was not as quick to recover from the past weeks of lethargy as he would like, protesting the vigorous use after so long. Still, he would begin again first thing in the morning. Anything was better than more weeks of lying about, unable to train for lack of basic necessities. Pain let a man know he was alive, if only in body.

  “Guard! Hold there!” a voice called and he stiffened. Already he would know that voice if it rang out in a crowd.

  He intended to keep his eyes on the floor as he was supposed to. Truly he did. But when he heard the splash of water, Gaidres couldn’t have stopped himself from looking if his very life depended on it. That it just might was beyond the point.

  He was met with Caelius’s amused, dark eyes as the other man reclined in a large, shallow bathing pool. His own eyes narrowed, but the Roman didn’t seem at all bothered by the abrupt glare. Instead, he smiled.

  The man smiled absurdly often. That it made his eyes brighter and his face even more handsome only irritated Gaidres and he reminded himself that the most deadly of dangers lurked within the most beautiful of packages. He could not forget who, and what, Caelius was despite his o
stensibly pleasant nature.

  “You favor your arm.” Caelius moved across the pool to the edge closest to the hall. He crossed his arms on its edge as he peered up at Gaidres. “Do you have need of the medicus?”

  “No, Dominus, my body is adjusting to working again. It will pass.”

  “Perhaps you need to soak in hot water. It loosens all manner of tensions.”

  His gaze had been wandering over Caelius, the long line of his back, golden skin beaded with water. The air was heavy with steam, the scent of expensive oils and Caelius himself. Now his eyes jerked back to see the wicked delight on the other man’s face.

  Was he suggesting that Gaidres join him in his bath? His heartbeat picked up before he squashed the desire. Absurd. A Roman noble did not bathe in the same water as a slave. He was letting his mind conjure up things that weren’t there. Besides, as beautiful as Caelius was, Gaidres would just as soon drown him as touch him.

  “I’m sure it will tonight when the gladiators have access to the baths.”

  Caelius laughed and turned away to step out of the bath. Rivulets of water ran down a body that Gaidres had not imagined hid beneath those robes. His legs were long, his muscles toned, his body lacking the overindulged softness of so many nobles.

  “See the medicus. If you will not have care for overexerting yourself, I will see to it that others do.”

  Gaidres stiffened at the switch in Caelius’s tone from seductive to one of sure authority. Other masters hid their insecurities by shouting or inflicting pain. Not Caelius. He wielded his authority calmly and with the absolute confidence he would be obeyed.

  “It is not necessary, Dominus. The medicus has far more important matters to attend to with the others. There is no need to take his attention away from them to deal with a mere ache.”

  Caelius held his arms out to his sides as a slave came forward to dry him with a soft cloth. “Then perhaps I should send someone to massage that ache away?” Another quick, wicked smile crossed his lips. “And when his hands are on you, think of me.”