Love of the Gladiator (Affairs of the Arena Book 2)

by Lydia Pax

  But Lucius also always would be convinced to her cause after a few cups of wine had loosened his morals. He could not turn down that good wine. It was leagues better than the Egyptian swill he was used to in the cell blocks.

  And always, the morning after, she would shove his hungover form out of her bed and condemn him to the cell blocks for the day. No training, completely locked up for daring to drink so much and for not having left by the time she woke up.

  She always regretted sleeping with him. Her feelings were not entirely resolved over the fact of his existence in her ludus and his presence back in her bed; it had been he who had asked that they not be involved anymore.

  It must have been hard, he thought with a sudden flash of empathy, for her to see him all the time in the ludus. Broken hearts had trouble healing when the wound was always fresh.

  And besides that, there was the mystery of her relationship with her son, kept far away in Neapolis. Did that weigh on her conscience? It must have. Something must have kept her from keeping him close, and yet that same pull probably pushed her toward all her excesses of sensation—in drink, in gambling, in sex.

  Strange that he had never considered that before. There was a whole texture to her side of the story that he’d never truly stopped to consider.

  “Don’t be so formal, Lucius. Come here,” she beckoned to the seat beside her. If he sat there, her breasts would be on top of his shoulder. “I would like to catch up. We haven’t talked in an amiable manner for a very long time.”

  “No, thank you, Domina. I appreciate the invitation, but I require my rest.”

  Porcia smiled, eyes glimmering like a lion’s. This was all part of the game for her. He had made that excuse several times.

  “Have some wine before you go, at least.”

  That was all it usually took to crumble him. She thrust a cup at him.

  “Thank you, Domina. But no. I would prefer not to.”

  She poured him a cup, unperturbed. “Won’t you smell it and decide? It’s very good. I’ve spared nothing with my latest winnings from the races. Oh, don’t look so surprised. I do win from time to time. More than I lose, in fact.”

  A long gulp followed, perhaps drowning her impulse to continue with the explanation that while that may have been true, her losses out-valued her wins by quite a bit.

  She circled the cup. “I would so very much like to share this with someone. It arrived only today. I bought it with part of the proceeds from the sale of Ajax and Perseus to House Malleola.”

  And there was an odd decision on her part. From what Murus had told Lucius, she collected their fees for the upcoming games on top of the principle for their sale. It was quite the sum, probably, but he still did not know what she was thinking. Ajax and Perseus were both skilled enough to live a long time yet in the arena, and win a great many matches for House Varinius.

  It was like she didn’t care anything for the glory of the house at all—like the fact that she was a lanista managing gladiators had somehow taken a backseat to something else. Pleasing Otho somehow, or gambling away more good money.

  Lucius had not had a chance to give a proper goodbye to Ajax nor Perseus. Such was the life of a slave, he supposed. Besides that, he doubted very much they would have sought him out to bid him farewell if the circumstances had been reversed.

  “A very interesting decision on your part, Domina.”

  “Wasn’t it? Senator Otho put it together. I trust his judgment in these matters. He is an intelligent man. I’ve no doubt Marius will adore him once they finally meet.”

  “Your son?”

  “Of course!” Porcia stood brightly. “They must get along. I imagine Marius has quite a lot to learn from someone like Otho. You could imagine me as the mother of a Senator, couldn’t you?”

  Ah. There it was.

  While Porcia may have been attracted to Otho one way or another, marrying him meant Marius would be eligible for a position in Roman high society. The son of a lanista had little chance in being respected. But the son of a Senator—and related then to the Emperor? A very good chance for that child indeed.

  Whether Otho wanted marriage with Porcia was something else entirely. Lucius had the impression he thought of her as a pleasant, wild plaything.

  “You’re the image of elegance, Domina.”

  “Thank you,” she tittered. “But you’re stalling, Lucius. Come here.” She patted once again on the cushion before her. “I’m expecting guests on the morrow. If I don’t have another taste this wine, I won’t know if it’s actually any good. And you have such an educated tongue for my uses, Lucius.”

  Even Lucius had to smile at that. She could weave together a decent double meaning whenever she really tried.

  “I do beg your forgiveness, Domina. But I am not drinking anymore.”

  At this, she laughed. “Now, I know you are jesting. Come here. I demand it. I want you to drink this.”

  He held his hands behind his back, resting on his sacrum. His chest was held broad. “I would come closer, Domina, but I know you wish me to drink. And I know the reason for it. I do not want to drink, and I do not want the reason for it. I apologize, Domina.”

  She was a beautiful woman—that was true. And she offered herself to him as openly as she ever had.

  But she was not Gwenn.

  Porcia took a long drink from his cup, draining it entirely. Her eyes, though, focused entirely on him. Lucius raised an eyebrow. Porcia was many things, but she was not a lightweight. Even so, that was a lot of quality wine all at once.

  “You’re a pig, Lucius. A filthy, horrible pig.” She shook her head. “Otho is right about you. Better to put a cripple like you out to slaughter rather than look at you every day. Do you think I wished you in my bed, you cripple pig? Do you think that is what was offered? You disgust me. I try to be nice to you, to extend peace. And this is what I get in return.”

  “I apologize, Domina,” Lucius repeated.

  Lucius knew better than to take that bait—and there was a lot of it there. Guilt trips. Insults. Insisting she didn’t want to sleep with him—because if she never had, then he couldn’t have turned her down.

  “Yes. Apologize. Like the coward you are.” She flung her cup at him. He absorbed the blow stoically. “I want you out of here. Now. Leave me.”

  Chapter 24

  Training ended early the next day, a few hours before sundown. A great many tradesmen, officials, and nobles from the city were on their way from Puteoli for Porcia’s grand party, and it wouldn’t do to offend their sensibilities by watching gladiators training right out there in the open. The sands were decorated with tall stands and hanging lights. Showers of plucked red and white flowers were poured on the stone borders between the main path and the sands themselves.

  Lucius felt bad about what had happened with Porcia—the ferocity of her mood. But, it was better than how he would have felt if he had drank and slept with her, which was unquestionably the only other option presented to him.

  After dinner, as he often did, he found himself in Gwenn’s cell. He sat across from her, both of them on the floor, their legs sliding against one another’s. It was as intimate as he dared allow himself to be with her.

  He would have liked to think that he was simply working up the courage to tell her the truth about her father. But in all honesty, that was the furthest thing from his mind. She was helping him too much to sabotage the first real feelings of wellness and goodness he’d felt in years.

  This dishonesty plagued him, but he did not know what to do about it yet. He suspected, sooner or later, it would sort itself out.

  “I want to address something,” she said.

  This was a surprise. Usually he entered and she just let him talk, responding in kind when she had something to say. But it wasn’t as if there were any rules about it. That was one nice thing about almost all of their relationship—there weren’t any rules to second-guess at all.

  “I think we should establish a guide
line from here on out,” she continued. “A sort of rule.”

  Lucius smiled and laughed softly. “All right. What did you have in mind?”

  Her foot trailed down his calf in a manner that suggested much more was available, if he had the courage to go after it.

  “I find you very attractive, Lucius. I don’t think it’s any mystery that’s half of why I let you in here.”

  “Only half?”

  She smiled wickedly. “We can talk percentage points later. You come in here with all your muscles just…there…and you sit very near to me. You were in good shape before. Since you’ve stopped drinking, your shape has only gotten better. And you look healthier too.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’d desperately like to sleep with you. You’re handsome and we could have quite a lot of fun. But I think it’s a terrible idea. What do you think?”

  Some gladiators had tried, in the night, to sleep with the retinue of gladiatrices. On one occasion, they had managed to slip past the guards entirely and open the cells of Kav and Ros. These gladiators suffered severe head blows for their troubles.

  It wasn’t any mystery to the fighting men and women that having them so close together was going to result in sparks flying. But Murus’s word on the matter was that it should not happen. If anyone did it anyway, then Murus would have to speak to Porcia about it, and her solutions were often inelegant and unpleasant—but effective.

  That Gwenn found him attractive was unsurprising in one way, but immensely gratifying in virtually all others he could imagine.

  He wanted her.

  Gods, he wanted her. It was sometimes difficult to hide the hardening totem of his want for her, sitting so damnably close to her with her foot sliding up his leg.

  The outfits of the gladiatrices showed quite a lot of skin. Not as much as those for the gladiators, with their simple loin cloths and belts, but a loin cloth, belt and a tight midriff-baring tunic was not very much either. By the end of the day, Gwenn’s cloths were often stuck to her body from sweat and exertion. They molded against her wide hips and full breasts, and he wanted everything he saw.

  “I think you’re right,” he said, smiling. “I am terribly handsome, and you do desperately want to sleep with me.”

  Her lips pursed. “Lucius…”

  “No.” He nodded gently. “You’re right. I do find you attractive. Almost to the point of distraction. You’re gorgeous, and your body is gorgeous, and I want to have it. But,” he shrugged gently. “You’re helping me in this other way. It’s worked so far. I don’t wish to complicate the…wellness, that I’ve been feeling. Nor your training”

  It was difficult to ignore the effect his words, his compliments, had on her. But at the same time, he had to appreciate that she had given him exactly the out he needed for not pursuing his attraction—she didn’t want it either, even though she wanted it “terribly.”

  Now, there was doubly no need for any explanations about an arena fight five years before between himself and her father.

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “And if we did do that—and it would be quite glorious, the two of us going at it, and very loud—we’d be caught,” said Lucius. “Almost immediately, I imagine.”

  “We would be loud, I agree, and Sabiana has a loose tongue.”

  “I do too. It’s a shame you’re so dead set against finding out more about it.”

  Now she raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I don’t have any idea what you mean, Doctore.”

  But the crawling heat on her neck suggested she knew exactly what he meant.

  Before, when they spoke to one another, sex was always in the background. They did not play with flirtation, really, nor explore any issues of their mutual attraction. But now that it was there, it felt tangible. Like a giant mass of heat wrapped around both of them, pulling them in and yet pushing them away at the same time. It was the sort of propulsion that you couldn’t help but fight against. A kind of ache, like a bruise on your elbow that you kept rubbing just to see if that hot, sudden, gasping sensation of pain still lived.

  He thought they might strip then and there, secrets be damned. Sense be damned. Memories be damned.

  He wanted his little flame. He wanted to give her the flame of her life.

  But, footsteps rang down the corridor.

  “They told us we’d find you here, Lucius.” It was Caius, and behind him, his wife Aeliana, along with Conall. “What have you got for an old friend?”

  Chapter 25

  Gwenn had difficulty concentrating on Caius’s story. It was the third or fourth such one that he’d told since arriving an hour ago. They were all rather the same—embarrassing tales about Lucius when he was a novice. Aeliana bore the stories patiently and with good humor, stroking her husband’s thick arm as he recounted tale after tale.

  It was difficult concentrating on most anything anyone might have said. Lucius was right there.

  You’re gorgeous, and your body is gorgeous, and I want to have it.

  That was what he said. Words, straight from his beautiful mouth. She wanted to run her lips over it until he could not help but say them again.

  “Meanwhile,” said Caius, laughing heartily now, “Murus is yelling his ass off, trying to get Lucius to drop the Hell Log before he sinks all the way in the mud. But it’s raining so hard that Lucius can’t hear him.”

  Lucius was laughing too, red-faced. Seeing his friends had made him suddenly into a different person. A younger person—someone who seemed closer to Gwenn’s own age than she had realized before. But they were only seven, eight years apart? Not that much. Not so much for friends.

  Or for lovers.

  The gladiator Conall had joined them. He sat in the corner, smiling gently. He was a short man, unimpressive in his stature. He’d had a long run of bad luck in his fights as far as Gwenn understood. Scars ran up and down his arms where he’d been hurt. The only reason he’d survived was by being a crowd favorite. He did not ask for the missus—for mercy—ever.

  He had a fiery temper, though, one that she had seen explode on the training sands more than once. The other gladiators seemed rather used to it. They called him Pertinax in the arena, after a famous Roman general with a legendary temper.

  “So Lucius, he keeps trying to run, but—”

  “Don’t forget I’m naked this whole time,” said Lucius. “Because Murus wouldn’t let me go back to get my cell and get dressed once he found the dead rat I put in his cot.”

  Caius’s laugh became a long burst at this recollection. “That’s right! That’s right, and you were knee deep, and you kept complaining that you were dipping the tip down into the mud.” He was getting tears in his eyes. “And finally, finally Murus gets through to you. And you hear him telling you to drop the log. And you say—”

  “I say, ‘I can’t do it, Doctore! The log will drown in this muck, and it’s done nothing wrong!’”

  They all burst out laughing at this. Gwenn let the feeling of the laugh carry her, but then her eyes met Lucius’s and reality struck again.

  It would be quite glorious, the two of us going at it. And very loud.

  “All that mud,” said Aeliana, shaking her head. “Couldn’t you have died? Like drowned, if they didn’t get you out?”

  Lucius shrugged his eyebrows, as if considering this for the first time. “I suppose so. Didn’t work out like that, though, did it?”

  “Idiots.” She looked up at Gwenn. “You have inherited a legacy of idiots, I hope you know.”

  “I don’t know,” said Gwenn. “I think it’s noble enough.”

  Caius and Aeliana traded a knowing look.

  “If you think that’s noble, you should hear about Conall’s plans to fight the Titan.”

  “What’s this?” Aeliana turned sharply at the bearded gladiator. “You want to fight the Titan of Rome? He kills everyone he fights, Conall.”

  Laughing, Caius put a hand on his wife. “It was an idle boast he made once. Nothing
to fuss about.”

  “I don’t know that the boast was idle,” said Conall, swelling slightly. “I would fight him if I could. But with the way this ludus is run, I don’t feel it very likely. My next fight is against someone well beneath my station. I expect to win in five minutes.”

  “That’s lucky,” said Aeliana.

  Conall shrugged. “I would prefer a challenge.”

  “And what of you, Gwenn? Do you fight in the upcoming games?” Aeliana asked.

  “I do,” Gwenn said, with pride.

  “She does,” said Lucius. “And she’ll win, too. I think she’s a better murmillo than Felix, Caius.”

  Caius snorted. “Then I’m glad I’m done with the arena.”

  He looked as though he wanted to ask something else, and Gwenn wanted to learn more about Caius’s legendary bout with Felix, but a guard arrived.

  “Gladiatrix Gwenn.” He stamped his spear down on the stone. “Your presence is requested in the house.”

  Chapter 26

  The ins and outs of Roman society were something of a mystery to Gwenn. Every day, while she trained, there were at least a dozen people—and sometimes many more—who called upon Porcia for patronage.

  These were Porcia’s clients.

  Porcia then would give out some measure of money, and then these clients would leave. Some would continue to go on to other houses, hoping for other patrons to benefit them, until they were able to pay for their bills of the day—usually for food and the like.

  What Porcia gained in return was that these individuals now owed her, either in favors or fighting power, should she ever have need to call on them for it. This had happened in other houses Gwenn had worked in, although not to the degree that it appeared Porcia suffered it, as they weren’t quite as rich. She didn’t understand how so many people found work in simply asking for money or how Porcia found status in giving it.

  But, then again, Rome had utterly conquered Gwenn’s people. So they certainly seemed to know what they were doing, even if Gwenn didn’t.