A Gladiator's Oath Page 3

  ‘They must be saving the best for last,’ Nerva said, glancing across at Remus. The first fight had ended with one of the men knocked unconscious while distracted by the crowd.

  Remus leaned his elbows on his knees, smiling. ‘They’ll have come straight from the market. There’s every chance they’re all terrible.’

  The victor exited to mild applause. Two men arrived, rolling the fallen man onto a long piece of wood and carrying him off.

  ‘Where’d the girl learn to fight?’ Remus asked.

  Nerva leaned forwards also, eyes on the gate where Mila would enter. ‘I taught her. I suppose I wanted someone to practice with. I do not have any living brothers.’ He shook his head. ‘I had no idea she would get such crazy ideas from it. If my father knew…’

  Remus studied him, trying to figure out why he would be taking risks for an insubordinate slave. He glanced down at the swords sitting between Nerva’s feet. ‘She should not be walking the streets carrying weapons,’ he said, nodding towards them. ‘If she is caught…’

  Nerva glanced down. ‘Yes, I am beginning to regret giving them to her. They are blunt, but I cannot imagine the watch will care about that. They already live in fear of slaves rising up against them.’

  Before Remus could reply, the gates opened and the crowd fell quiet. Gallus entered the arena, introducing Felix under his fighting name, Minui Spiculus, a joke that the crowd ate up, and then Mila as Nanus Slayer, after which the entire crowd burst out in laughter, including Nerva.

  ‘The teasing will be relentless when we leave here,’ he said.

  Remus watched her enter the small arena behind Felix, her breasts covered. She held two short wooden swords. Remus’s first thought was she needed a shield. He shifted in his seat, glancing at Nerva, who seemed relaxed. Mila drew a long breath as she took in her surroundings, reading the reaction of the crowd. Her gaze landed on Nerva and he nodded, a small gesture of encouragement. When her eyes went to Remus, she swallowed, and he saw that she was nervous. She turned away to watch Felix as he strolled casually around the perimeter, basking in the cheers and attention.

  ‘Bare your breasts!’ shouted the man next to Remus, cupping his hands around his mouth so his words would carry.

  Remus saw Mila glance at the man. He had the urge to elbow him in the neck and watch him choke for a moment. Instead, he focused on Mila, finding himself unable to look away. His gaze travelled along her lean arms, down her firm legs. Her braid slipped over her shoulder as she crouched, face set with concentration. He straightened in his seat, holding on to the bench.

  Felix was not ready to fight. He kept turning away from her, doing another lap of the arena, arms outstretched as though he were already their victor. Men cheered and laughed, and he pumped his swords at them so the cheering increased and the laughter died. Only once he had won the crowd over did he make his way over to Mila, swinging his swords to show off. Even Remus was losing patience.

  ‘He is very entertaining,’ Nerva said.

  ‘He’s a natural performer,’ Remus replied, crossing his arms. He watched as Mila tired of the self-indulgent display, throwing one of her swords at his and knocking it from his hand. ‘Was that a fluke?’ he asked, glancing at Nerva.

  He shook his head. ‘No.’

  Felix turned to her, a wry smile on his face.

  ‘Are you done?’ she called to him, feigning boredom.

  He picked up his sword and stepped in front of the one she had thrown at him. ‘Now you are down one sword.’

  The crowd laughed, and she looked about. ‘You think I cannot pick up my sword?’

  ‘Not when it is behind me.’ He spoke loudly so the crowd could enjoy the banter.

  There was another wave of laughter.

  She walked towards him, twisting her sword in her hand. ‘Now that I have your attention.’ She lurched forwards, the blow landing against one sword and immediately moving to block the second. They looked at one another, their expressions playful.

  He spun around, his swords coming at her from different heights. Mila stopped the lower one with her foot and, gripping her weapon with both hands, blocked the other. Before Felix could make another move, she pushed him backwards with her foot and dove forwards into the sand, rolling once and snatching her second sword. The crowd cheered as she leapt to her feet, but there was no time to savour the moment as Felix lunged, swinging at her ankles. She jumped, and as her feet left the ground, she brought one sword down. He was ahead of her, blocking it and striking her side.

  The sound she emitted made Remus flinch. Nerva must have noticed, because he turned to him. ‘She is tougher than she looks.’

  Felix stepped in to finish the job, but she whirled on him, her swords striking him from different angles. His weapon struck her arm and she yelped like a dog kicked.

  The pair circled one another for a moment before clashing once again. That time, Felix knocked a sword from her hand. It should have been over in one more strike, but Mila dodged the next blow and rolled three times to snatch the fallen sword once again.

  ‘She’s good,’ Remus said, not realising he had spoken the words aloud.

  Nerva nodded, eyes remaining on her. ‘She is stubborn, that is for sure.’

  Some of the spectators were on their feet, shouting and waving fists. Mila lurched forwards again, trapping Felix’s swords with her own when he went to strike. His foot went up to kick her but she caught it between her ribs and elbow, yanking it hard so he fell on his back. Her foot pressed down on his wrist, the other going behind her for balance. When Felix swung his other sword, she smashed it from his hand and pressed a wooden blade to his neck. They stared at one another, panting and trembling from their efforts.

  Everyone stood, cheering her. She waited for Felix to drop the other sword before removing her foot from his arm and stepping back. Remus was torn between watching her and the reaction of the crowd.

  ‘Crazy girl,’ Nerva said, standing to applaud her also.

  Remus took his time getting to his feet, bringing his hands together in a slow clap. He watched as she dropped her swords on the ground before extending a hand to Felix. She made no big display of her win, no victory pose. The dwarf glanced at her hand before taking it and pulling himself to his feet. Keeping hold of her, he lifted her arm as high as he could get it, encouraging the crowd to applaud her. She suppressed a smile as she looked around. Her gaze landed briefly on Remus before moving to Nerva. She gave him a cocky nod.

  ‘What now?’ Remus asked.

  Nerva glanced at him. ‘Now?’ He frowned. ‘Now I pray she sees sense before this all goes terribly wrong.’

  Chapter 4

  It was after midnight when they weaved through the alleyways of region four. Mila’s shawl wrapped her body and head as she walked next to Nerva, eyes searching the dark nooks, her swords concealed. They were supposed to be a civilised society.

  ‘Did you recognise Remus before he was introduced?’ Mila asked, unable to contain her curiosity about the man any longer.

  ‘He seemed familiar. I certainly did not need a family name.’ He glanced at her. ‘Why do you ask? Because he is handsome?’

  She kept her eyes ahead. ‘I can see how some might find him handsome.’

  Nerva smiled. ‘Every woman who lays eyes on him, noble or otherwise, believes Remus Latinius was hand-sculpted by the gods.’

  ‘One of the vain gods, perhaps.’

  He shook his head. ‘If you are trying to deflect the attention from you, it will not work. You are lucky Dulcia came to me. What do you think would have happened if I had not shown up?’

  ‘I would have returned home.’

  ‘You would likely have been escorted to the front door by one of Gallus’s men. It was careless and selfish.’

  ‘Selfish?’

  He stepped around a suspicious pool of liquid and she moved with him. ‘Yes. Do you ever stop to think how your sister would cope with you gone? We all know you would be fine, but Dulcia depends on y
ou. And your poor mother…’

  She noticed he did not mention himself in the list of people affected by her hypothetical sale. Opening her hand, she showed him the five denarii she had earned. ‘It would take a month to earn this on the streets. This is from one fight.’

  He reached out, closing her hand. ‘Do not wave it around. It is late, and you are easy prey.’

  She held the coins against her chest. ‘I am not easy prey.’

  He looked about. ‘Those men do not know that.’

  She smiled. ‘You know I will protect you.’

  He let out a single laugh. ‘Very comforting.’ His eyes went up, checking the windows above them.

  They walked in silence for a while, and Mila found her thoughts returning to Remus.

  ‘You know, I remember that day a few years back, when you returned from the games. You told me you wanted to be a centurion, lead armies into foreign lands.’

  He glanced at her. ‘I was young and foolish.’

  ‘Not that young,’ she replied, leaving off the foolish. ‘You have never once told me you want to be a senator.’

  ‘What does it matter what I want? I do as I am told. You should try it some time.’

  They rounded a corner into another alleyway.

  ‘You gave me a blow-by-blow account of that fight.’

  He checked behind them. ‘Are we still talking about Remus?’

  ‘I am talking about you.’

  ‘You are talking about me talking about Remus.’ He turned to study her. ‘I knew you would take notice of men eventually, and I should not be surprised that the first man to capture your attention is a gladiator.’

  Nerva had spent the last seven years warning her of the dangers of men, constantly reminding her that they could not be trusted, frightening her with stories of rape. She suspected the need for a sparring partner was not the only reason he had taught her to fight. He wanted her to be able to protect herself.

  ‘They prey on virtuous girls,’ he had told her.

  Mila was not one to live in fear, so at age fifteen, she had taken matters into her own hands. She went to see a stablehand who she had fought on the streets many times, asking him to take care of the issue. He had stood in front of her, leaning on his pitchfork, a look of confusion on his face.

  ‘You want to be rid of your… virtue?’ He was unsure if he had heard right.

  She had shrugged. ‘I would prefer to give it away to a friend than have it snatched away by a stranger I failed to fight off.’ Her virginity was not worth much as a slave, but the thought of it being taken without her permission did not sit well with her. While Rufus Papias had never claimed her as a daughter, every man in the household knew she was off limits. However, that did not help her when she left the house.

  The boy had taken her by the hand and led her to a clean stall, doing as she had asked. She had followed his lead, and when it was done, had thanked him. The spent boy had stood, quivering, and awkwardly wished her a good day before she left. She had never mentioned the event to anyone.

  A woman called to them as they passed a narrow alley, pulling Mila from her thoughts. She glanced at the woman in her red toga and quickened her pace.

  ‘You cannot just sneak off and fight whenever you feel like it,’ Nerva said, his tone serious. ‘I will pay you five denarii to stay at home.’

  ‘I am not taking your money. When I go to your father one day to buy my freedom, I cannot have him wondering if the money is in fact already his.’

  Nerva did not argue the point.

  ‘If I could just fight at some of the bigger arenas, I would have the amount I need in no time.’

  He shook his head. ‘Well you cannot. It is too risky. Father attends many of those events, and he would recognise you at once.’

  ‘Not if I am wearing a helmet.’

  He breathed hard through his nose. ‘I always knew you would do something crazy like this. I blame myself for indulging you with stories of Mevia and her beast fighting. Perhaps it is not freedom you seek but fame.’

  ‘You are wrong. Once I am free, I will never enter the arena again. It just happens to be the only skill I have to get where I want.’

  He scoffed. ‘Nonsense. You could earn your freedom via loyal service if you had any patience at all.’

  ‘Loyal service?’ she asked, turning her body to him as she continued to walk. ‘Do you know how many years I would have to serve for that? I would prefer to leave while I still have use of my legs and a few teeth, if it is all the same to you.’

  The scrape of ceramic against a windowsill sounded overhead and Mila took hold of Nerva, pulling him back just in time. Waste splashed onto the street in front of them. They covered their mouths and noses against the smell.

  Nerva looked up, removed his hand, and shouted, ‘People are walking down here!’ An older woman peered sheepishly out of the window. ‘Yes! I see you! Take it to the latrine, you lazy wench!’

  A laugh escaped Mila and she grabbed a handful of toga, pulling him around the mess and away from the house.

  They broke into a jog, Mila keeping her shawl over her head as she did so. Only when they reached the steps of the house did they stop to catch their breath, both sweating but thoroughly enjoying a few moments of something resembling their childhood. In those rare moments, they could be real siblings.

  ‘Thank you for tonight,’ she said. ‘I promise I will not do that again without speaking to you first.’

  He was leaning on his knees, panting. ‘If you do, I will sell you myself.’

  She glanced at the door, which remained closed to them. ‘Just to be clear, that does not include the street fighting, does it?’

  ‘Mila.’

  ‘It is harmless fun between children.’

  He stood and took hold of her shoulders. ‘You are in your nineteenth year. You are not a child anymore.’ He released his grip on her. ‘Anyway, such amounts will seem insignificant now that you have tasted sand.’

  A cart came towards them and they moved onto the bottom step to get out of its way. The driver bounced in the seat, a cushion tucked beneath his buttocks. In the back were cabbages and a crate packed so tightly with chickens that wings sprouted from the gaps.

  ‘I wish I could give you what you want—the coin, the freedom.’

  She felt pure affection for him in that moment. ‘You need all the coin you have to keep those fancy horses hidden from your father.’

  He studied her. ‘What do you need from me, then?’

  She smiled. ‘One fight, in a proper arena.’

  ‘One fight will not earn all that you need.’

  She bit down on her top lip before speaking. ‘It might if I give you everything I have saved so far and you take it to Gallus.’

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘You want me to gamble all of your money?’

  Her eyes went to the door and she leaned forwards. ‘It is a sure win.’

  He shook his head, staring at her as though she had completely lost her mind. ‘You would be fighting trained gladiators.’

  She shrugged. ‘I am trained.’

  ‘No, you are not.’

  She looked insulted. ‘I fight almost every day.’

  ‘One, you should not be telling me that, and two, that is not training, that is practising with equally untrained boys.’

  She crossed her arms. ‘You just said we were not children anymore.’

  ‘I take it back. You are behaving like one right now.’ He turned to leave and she reached for his arm.

  ‘Please,’ she said. He turned back, his patience gone. ‘One fight.’

  His hard expression turned to resignation. ‘I will look into it.’ When she smiled, he raised a hand. ‘I am not saying yes, I am saying I will make some enquiries and see what is possible. If I find out you have so much as touched your swords in the meantime, I will forget the whole thing.’

  Her expression fell. ‘I will need to practice if I am to win.’

  ‘Then you will do so w
ith me and stay off the streets. Are we clear?’

  She nodded. ‘We are clear.’

  Chapter 5

  If there was one thing Mila dreaded, it was Balbina getting sick. Whenever her domina’s body slave became ill, Aquila Papias would send the woman off to bed for the day.

  What might appear to be a kind gesture was in fact one borne of fear. After burying all of her children except Nerva, Aquila feared even the most common of colds. Because their domina behaved like she was incapable of dressing herself, or even reaching for a cup, it meant such tasks then fell to Mila. There were few slaves the woman trusted with the task of being her hands, and unfortunately she was one of them. That did not mean she liked Mila—quite the opposite—but nineteen years under the same roof had gotten them to the point of mutual tolerance when absolutely necessary. Aquila was hardly going to request Tertia, her husband’s harlot, to follow her, dress her. The only reason living in the same house had worked for so long was due to the fact that they existed separately within it.

  ‘Why do I have to do it?’ Mila whined at her mother.

  Tertia was forced to have the same conversation with her daughter she had every time Balbina took to her bed. ‘You know why.’

  ‘Dulcia is old enough now.’

  They were standing in the laundry, voices low, while Tertia lay a garment flat, inspecting its hem. ‘Your sister all but cowers in her presence.’

  ‘Can you blame her? She threw a cup at me last week because the baker did not have the bread she wanted. Throw a cup at his head.’

  ‘You told me the cup missed you.’

  Mila leaned on the bench, immediately shooed back by her mother. ‘The point is that she was aiming for me.’

  Tertia let out an exhausted breath, looking up at her daughter. It was late in the afternoon, and she had to get the dress ready for the dinner party Aquila and Rufus were attending that evening. ‘Help her dress, accompany her to the dinner and pour her wine. It is rather simple, and you seem to have plenty of free time.’

  Mila rested a hand on her hip. ‘What do you mean I have plenty of time? Am I to be ridiculed for finishing my chores in half the time it takes others?’