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Highland Legend

Page 15

by Kathryn Le Veque


  That happened three times.

  Seated over on the left-hand side of the arena with the rest of the warriors’ women, Isabail and Lucia and Diantha laughed at the fighting going on. It was sheer ridiculousness. Isabail was feeling much better after having rested all day, and at one point, she ran over to the fighting and clobbered some hapless Englishman on the head. It was all great fun to her, this former warrior woman, and she returned to her friends quite happy and satisfied at having gotten in a lick in a fight.

  But her joy was short-lived.

  Lor had been in the lists, breaking up the fights with some of the other doctores and sentries who kept order at the Ludus Caledonia, and he saw his wife get in a good belt. When the crowd had settled down, he came over to her, giving her a look that suggested she was in a good deal of trouble, and pulled her out of her seat.

  At the top of the lists, he scolded her, shook a finger at her, and she took it until she finally threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. Lucia and Diantha were watching all of it, giggling when Isabail kissed him. It had the desired effect because Lor cooled down, returning to the arena floor as his wife returned triumphantly to her seat.

  She’d won the battle.

  The later bouts were between the more advanced warriors, including two new ones that had been brought in by Clegg. One man was big and pale, with flaming-red hair, and went by the name of the Celtic Storm. He fought a man who was about half his size, and it was an excellent fight, but in the end the Celtic Storm triumphed.

  The second new warrior was a little more interesting. He was tall and sinewy, with well-defined muscles and dark skin that was glorious and glistening. He went by the name the North Star and he battled against a seasoned warrior known as the Beast from the East.

  It was the most exciting match yet.

  It went on for a very long time, until both men were so exhausted they could barely fight any longer. The crowd, who had been screaming for the duration of the match, became abruptly silent when the North Star and the Beast from the East got into a wrestling match that saw the Beast from the East get the upper hand by flipping his opponent onto his face. The North Star was slowly suffocating in the dirt until the field marshals broke up the fight and declared the Beast from the East the victor.

  But barely.

  In all, it had been an exciting night of excellent matches. Lucia had paid for warmed wine when the vendor came around, and the women drank their spicy wine, discussing the matches with glee. The wine made them giggly and they were genuinely enjoying themselves.

  Especially Diantha.

  Three days ago, if someone had told her that her life would change so much in just a matter of days, she would never have believed them. She was truly happy for the first time in her life, with women who had already become her friends, and she was fast becoming enamored with a man who, until two days ago, had been just a faded speck in her memory.

  Now, she could think of nothing else.

  It was the kiss that had done it.

  She could still feel it on her cheek, sweet and delicious. He had been so gentle about it that she found it difficult to believe that the same man who could fight so viciously was capable of such tenderness.

  He had kissed her and then he’d gone to sleep. But when he awoke, she was still in the cottage, sitting by the hearth mending one of his torn tunics with some thread Lucia had given her. He’d smiled at her, she’d smiled in return, and he’d quit the cottage without speaking a word.

  But he didn’t need to.

  There was something in the air.

  Therefore, Diantha was quite excited to see him fight on this night, and she was learning quickly that Magnus only fought the later, more important rounds. As the wind that had been blowing through the complex all day picked up and clouds began to blow in from the east, covering the moon, Magnus’s bout was announced.

  It would be the Eagle against the Celtic Storm.

  The crowd went mad.

  The Celtic Storm was the first one out onto the arena floor, lifting his arms and bellowing at the crowd, who managed to cheer for him in a mediocre manner. But the moment Magnus came out, the crowd was on its feet, screaming as if Jesus Christ had just made an appearance. There was hooting and yelling going on, but down in the first row of the lists, there was something else happening.

  A solid row of exquisitely dressed women, waving perfumed kerchiefs.

  Diantha hadn’t noticed them last night, but from her vantage point tonight in a different seat, she could see them clearly. Already, the women were throwing things onto the arena floor where two young men rushed out to collect everything. Seated next to Isabail, she craned her neck to see all of those lovely, well-dressed women.

  “Who are they?” she asked, pointing. “Wives?”

  Isabail wasn’t sure who she meant. “Who?”

  “Those women,” Diantha said. “They are throwing things onto the field. Are they wives of patrons?”

  Isabail realized who she was indicating. But she found herself reluctant to tell Diantha that they were the brigade of women who had come to seek Magnus’s favor.

  “Those are wealthy women who like tae come and watch the bouts,” she said carefully. “They are throwing money onto the field tae indicate their esteem for the fighters. Like a reward.”

  Or an enticement. But she didn’t say so. She watched Diantha accept the explanation with no trouble.

  “Oh,” Diantha said, not sensing anything out of the ordinary. “Do the women come often?”

  “Every night there is fighting.”

  “Are their husbands here?”

  “Probably not.”

  That was as far as Diantha’s questions went and Isabail was grateful. She’d spent enough time around the woman to realize she was fond of Magnus, and she didn’t want to tell her the truth—that all of those women were there because of Magnus. They were hoping to spend time with him after his bout, licking the sweat from his body or doing any number of things to him.

  That’s what Magnus was known for.

  Isabail caught a look from Lucia, who shook her head faintly as if thankful Diantha wasn’t pushing the point. Sometimes, Magnus actually went to those in the front row and kissed a hand or two, or turned around so they could see his impossibly muscular buttocks, which he would happily flex for them.

  On a night like this, he was virtually nude but for the chain-mail briefs around his pelvis. The rest of him—that magnificent chest and those powerful arms—were glistening with sweat in the warmth of the evening.

  And every woman in the front row was filled with lust.

  Thankfully, Diantha was oblivious. Her gaze was on Magnus as he remained on the opposite side of the arena floor, away from the women who were trying so desperately to get his attention. He was fussing with his gloves again, but once those were finally secure, he lifted a hand to the crowd and their screams resumed in earnest.

  But he was looking in Diantha’s direction.

  At least, she thought he was. She stood up on her seat and waved an arm at him, and far down below, he waved back. It was brief, but that was enough. He acknowledged her and Diantha was fairly aglow.

  Then the match started.

  The crowd had decided that it was much better to stand while Magnus was fighting, so everyone was on their feet. Diantha couldn’t really see anything unless she stood on her seat, so she stood on the stone bench and watched Magnus stalk a man who was taller and broader than he was.

  It was like watching a cat toy with a mouse.

  The Celtic Storm didn’t stop smiling through the entire match. He watched Magnus as the man stalked him, and soon enough, he was yelling at him, daring him to charge him. Magnus grinned and waved at him. For a while, it almost seemed like two friends toying with each other. They were laughing at one another, challenging one another
, until the Celtic Storm got tired of waiting and rushed Magnus, swinging his gladius in a fairly precise manner.

  But Magnus was fast. He darted out of the way at the last moment, causing the Celtic Storm to lose his balance with his momentum. Magnus came up behind him with the intention of using a finishing move, but the Celtic Storm whirled on him. Magnus was forced to bring up his shield, the only weapon he used in most of his bouts, to block a strike from the Celtic Storm.

  But he had some of his own momentum going and he managed to spin out of the way of another strike, coming up behind the Celtic Storm once again. His strategy was clear—to get in behind the man so he couldn’t take a full swing at him—but the Celtic Storm seemed to know that. He managed to reach around and grab hold of Magnus’s shield, yanking on it, and Magnus was abruptly in front of him.

  But that would do the Celtic Storm no good. Magnus still had hold of his shield and used it like a battering ram, throwing his weight into it and knocking the Celtic Storm backwards and onto the ground. Or at least down to one knee. As the Celtic Storm tried to rise, Magnus went airborne and kicked him in the side of the head.

  He went out as quickly as if someone had blown out a candle.

  And with that, the match was over.

  The crowd went mad, screaming Magnus’s name. Money rained down and servants dashed out onto the field again, collecting every little coin as Magnus lifted his hands to the crowd.

  The roar was deafening.

  “Come on!” Lucia said. “It is finished for tonight. Let us leave before this crowd disbands.”

  She and Isabail were already on their feet, running up the steps that led to the exits, but Diantha was slower. She was moving, but her gaze was on Magnus down on the arena floor.

  She couldn’t seem to move away from the sight.

  After he acknowledged the crowd and even looked in her direction, or so she thought, he bent over the Celtic Storm, who was starting to stir. A couple of trainers had come out onto the arena floor and were helping the big redhead come around as Magnus put his hand on the man’s head, seemingly trying to bring him around as well.

  Lucia and Isabail were up at the top of the steps, beckoning Diantha to hurry, and she began to move faster when she saw Magnus help his dazed opponent to his feet.

  She thought that was a sweet gesture.

  The crowds were moving swiftly to cash in on their bets and Diantha was caught up in the flow, but she found Lucia and Isabail at the top of the arena.

  “Where do the men go when they come off the arena floor?” she asked.

  Lucia pointed toward the north. “There is an area next tae the arena,” she said. “They call it the staging area.”

  “Can you see the men?”

  “Aye,” Lucia said. “There is a fence. It is where people will go tae inspect the combatants for the night before making their wagers. Or you can see them when they are finished for the night.”

  “Will they be gathered there now? The fighters, I mean.”

  Lucia nodded. “Probably,” she said. “Why?”

  Diantha grinned. “Because I want to see Magnus,” she said. “The only time I ever see him is when he is fighting, but I would like to see him after his fight. He was magnificent, don’t you think?”

  Isabail had been listening. Given that all of the women who had come to the Ludus Caledonia to see Magnus would also be over at the staging area, she didn’t think it was a good idea for Diantha to go over there.

  “It will be very crowded,” she said. “Ye probably willna be able tae see him. Let’s go back tae the cottages and wait for the men there.”

  But Diantha was caught up in the thrill of victory. “I just want to see,” she said. “If it is too crowded, I’ll go back to the cottage. But I would like to see where the men go after a fight. It all seems so exciting.”

  Isabail was shaking her head but she didn’t want to say anything more, concerned that Diantha would get suspicious and she would end up explaining something she didn’t think it was her place to explain. What Magnus did with women was his own business, but Diantha…she had such a pure view of the man.

  She thought he was a hero.

  Isabail was afraid that view was about to be tarnished.

  “It will be very crowded,” she said again, weakly, as they were jostled by the crowd around them. “I think it would be better if…”

  Diantha flashed her a grin. “I will not be long, I promise,” she said. “I just want to see, just this once.”

  Before they could stop her, she was off. Isabail and Lucia watched her go.

  “What do we do?” Lucia hissed.

  Isabail grunted unhappily. “We’d better follow her,” she said. “At the very least, we can divert her attention from the women who have come tae shower Magnus with money and gifts.”

  Lucia rolled her eyes and dashed off, pursuing Diantha as the woman headed toward the staging area. Isabail quickly followed.

  Oblivious to her friends’ concern, Diantha was nearing an area at the end of the arena where there was a big iron fence. She could see people milling around it but as she drew closer, she began to see all of those well-dressed women who had been in the front row of the lists. She could already smell the perfume.

  Curious, she pushed her way through the crowd until she came to the iron fence, which was poised on an overlook with the staging area down below. Looking down, she could see several men milling about, some having fought that night. She didn’t see Magnus, but her vantage point wasn’t very good.

  She could, however, see an iron staircase leading from the staging area up to a gate next to the iron fence that was guarded by a pair of sentries. As she watched, one of the gladiators came up the steps and through the gates, and the women surged in his direction. They were pawing at him, slipping him coins, and he seemed more than willing to go along with them.

  That’s when Diantha realized who the women were.

  What they were.

  And that’s when she started paying attention to the chatter.

  “Where is the Eagle?” one woman cried. “We want the Eagle!”

  Other women chimed in, demanding the Eagle. Diantha knew that meant Magnus, and she was baffled about these women demanding Magnus. Certainly, he was gorgeous to look at, but it never occurred to her that they might be here for him. Magnus wasn’t that kind of man…

  Was he?

  As Diantha stood there, increasingly confused at what she was hearing, a woman a few feet away was speaking loudly to her friends.

  “They say he never takes the same woman twice,” she said. “I was fortunate enough tae have the Eagle last month and the man turned my legs tae water. I couldna walk for hours afterward.”

  She and her friends tittered lewdly. “I’ve not had him yet!” one whined. “I’ve heard he has a manhood as big as a rutting stallion. I’ve heard he can go all night and all day and never rest!”

  Her friend, who was seemingly a Magnus expert, nodded emphatically. “I just bent over, spread my legs, and let him do the rest.” She giggled. “It was like mating with a bull.”

  “I wish he would choose me tonight!”

  “Nay, me!”

  They were arguing about it now as Diantha stood there, stunned with what she was hearing. She looked around, listening to other conversations, and realizing that every woman here was speaking of the Eagle. They had their money out, in some instances their coin purses held high, badgering the sentries at the gate and demanding the Eagle.

  Her Eagle…

  Diantha was starting to feel sick.

  “What are they speaking of?” she asked, turning to Lucia and Isabail. “Are they… Does he actually take money from them?”

  Isabail and Lucia were looking at her in various stages of grief. Neither wanted to answer, yet she was asking a direct question. It was Isabail who fi
nally spoke.

  “Magnus is very popular,” she said. “He has no woman, no wife. He is very handsome. Surely such a man is not expected to remain…celibate.”

  Her words were like a blow to Diantha’s gut. She couldn’t breathe. But nothing Isabail had said was shocking or untrue.

  Surely such a man is not expected to remain celibate.

  It occurred to her why, exactly, these women were here.

  “Then he takes money from these women in exchange for…companionship,” she said quietly.

  Isabail looked at Lucia, who gazed back at her fearfully. “Diantha, it isna as simple as that,” Isabail said, wondering how on earth she was going to explain this. “The Ludus Caledonia is modeled after the gladiator schools of Rome, and in ancient times, wealthy women paid well tae have the company of the finest gladiators. Many of the other warriors here do it, too, but they all have free will. They are not forced intae anything. Sometimes they do it for no money at all, but sometimes…they do.”

  “And Magnus does.”

  “Ye’ll have tae ask him, sweetheart. If it matters tae ye, ask him.”

  Diantha was looking at her as if Isabail had just ripped all of her guts out and left them on the ground. There was anguish in her expression that was difficult to describe. Nay, she didn’t have to ask Magnus anything.

  She already knew.

  Before she could reply, a great cry abruptly went up from the crowd and they turned to see Magnus coming up the iron steps toward the gate. Women began screaming, throwing money and articles of clothing at him, calling his name.

  Eagle!

  Eagle!

  Diantha was rooted to the spot, unable to move as he came to the gate and the sentries opened it. Suddenly, he was being rushed by women who were throwing their arms around his neck, pressing their lips against him, and he was slammed back against the gate as the females attacked.

 

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