Talos_An Ancient Roman Reverse Harem Romance Page 2

  My first sight of Rome had been overwhelming. I had found the noise, filth and chaos more than I could stand. So, in the last few days, I had stayed in the domus as much as possible and agreed only to the bare minimum of social visits designed to introduce me to my aunt’s circle of friends. But I would willingly negotiate the River Styx itself if it meant I could see my pack.

  Pater and I arrived at the Magnus Ludus early and were shown into the stands by the obsequious lanista, or manager, of the school. In actual fact he was not a lanista in the true sense of the word as all the emperor’s gladiator schools were managed by highly paid directors employed by the state. But this man, an ex-gladiator from the look of him, took on the day-to-day running of the school.

  From the way he treated Pater, I knew he respected him. We were ushered to the best seats in the small tiered viewing area, which ran partway along the side of the training field. There were already a large number of both men and women occupying places there. A deep red awning extended over the stands to keep the sun from our faces, although at this time of year the warmth of the sun would have been preferable.

  I immediately spotted my pack in amongst the forty or fifty training men. They wore only loincloths and armour, and their bodies looked even more finely honed than they had been back in the barracks. Clearly, the regime of the ludus was having its effect.

  “Your novices this year have been impressive. Particularly the four who call themselves the Wolf Pack. I have been working with the director to make a spectacle around their unique bond. I have never seen four men work so well together, almost as if they read each other’s minds. Look, they are doing it now. They each have an opponent, but will regularly swap places to put those opponents off. And they do it without any cues. It is like watching a finely choreographed dance. An impressive and violent dance, of course. But still... a dance.”

  I watched them more closely, seeing what the lanista meant. Each member of my pack was dressed as a provocatores, as were their opponents. I knew their weapons and armour, which closely approximated the legionary skirmishers, were intentionally light to allow them to be moved around a battlefield easily. Provocatores were often used at the beginning of a spectaculum to warm up the crowd.

  And the way my pack worked would certainly do that. I watched as my four beautiful men manoeuvred their opponents around so the Wolf Pack could be back-to-back. They then swapped places in the blink of an eye, leaving their opponents wrong-footed and ill-prepared for the next onslaught.

  It was not an easy feat, adjusting to another man’s fighting style. Although all Provocatores fought the same way, using certain accepted moves, my men had adapted the style to suit themselves. And, if I was not wrong, they’d adapted it to make them look all the more dramatic and entertaining. It was as if they really had turned the bloodthirsty sport into a dance.

  Pater gave a little laugh. “I knew allowing them to continue as a unit would turn out to be a good decision. It is as if they are one man split into four parts. Four very capable parts.”

  “Yes, yes, exactly,” the lanista said, nodding his head emphatically. “Their mastery is a pleasure to behold. The emperor himself has shown an interest in them, although he has not yet seen them fight. He was not in Rome at the Saturnalia. But word has it that he is making a special point of being present for their performance on the first day of the games.”

  Pater nodded his head, seemingly impressed. I was not sure if he was just being polite or whether he really was affected by the knowledge his young fighters had already created a reputation for themselves.

  “Have a care. It is easy to push a potentially good fighter too hard. I do not want to lose one to injuries early in their career. They must move through the grades in the same way any of my other gladiators would.”

  The grizzled lanista nodded his head vigorously. It made his overlarge belly jiggle.

  “I understand, I most certainly understand. As you say, pushing a new gladiator too far too fast can have unfortunate consequences. It would be a pity to ruin the pack’s cohesion by losing a member.”

  For the first time my stomach lurched. Although I knew the dangers my men faced in the arena, I had purposefully downplayed it in my mind. Pater would never allow them to be mismatched and face someone significantly superior to them. He would do everything in his power to keep them alive and physically fit. But men did die in the arena, and not just the criminals and captives. Pater had told me that up to ten percent of men might die on any day of a spectaculum. I had assumed—naively, I now realised—my men would never be amongst those ten percent. They were too good for that.

  But what if they were pushed too hard or some misfortune befell them? What then? It would not just ruin the pack’s cohesion, it would devastate them. And it would be the same for me. I could not bear the thought of one of them being injured badly, no less killed. I felt sick and light-headed at the very idea.

  “They cannot lose a member. You must make sure that does not happen!” I cried, shocking myself and the two men with my vehemence.

  Pater put a calming hand on mine and turned to address the lanista. “I do apologise for my daughter’s outburst. These young men saved her from a terrible fate. We both owe them a debt of gratitude.”

  The lanista looked surprised and curious. “How so? I would love to hear that story.”

  Pater settled in to tell the whitewashed version of the tale he had told many times, while I continued to watch my men spar, just as I had done many times over the years. I knew each man’s unique style well.

  Typhon was not as heavily muscled as his pack-mates, which meant he was fast and agile. He also had the ability to wield a sword equally well with his right or left hands. When he fought without a helmet, his oriental features were unusual enough to often distract an opponent and give him an advantage.

  Asterius was the showman. As breathtakingly handsome as a Greek god, he had a way of strutting and performing in a contest. Like he was toying with his opponent rather than taking the fight seriously. Then, when his adversary relaxed his guard, Asterius would turn serious and finish him off.

  Talos was the most heavily muscled of my men. His father had been a Nubian. From him he had inherited his dark skin-colour and huge frame. He was an inch or so taller than any of his pack-mates and looked the most daunting. And maybe he was. But to me he was the gentlest and most approachable member of the pack. He treated me like I was spun glass and as precious as gold. It could be annoying at times, because his need to protect me could get in the way of what I was trying to do. But I couldn’t fault him for it.

  He fought as a defender most of the time, wearing the heavy armour of a murmillo or hoplomachus because he could carry the weight with ease. But it made his movements slower and more carefully considered than his brothers. Or that was how it seemed to me.

  Lastly, there was Orion—the huntsman. He was particularly good at archery and charioteering, but could just as easily employ any of the hand-to-hand fighting styles. He preferred to carry minimal protection, such as a small shield or no shield at all. Like Typhon, he was versatile, using speed and agility instead of outright physical strength against an opponent. He was probably not quite as fast as Typhon because he carried more muscle and weight.

  His blonde hair, usually too long and curly for a fierce warrior, was his most appealing feature. That and his bright blue eyes. But neither of those were seen when he wore a helmet, so they only mattered to me. And every other red-blooded female who caught sight of him, I was sure.

  So, yes, they were each unique, and yet they were more alike than they were different. And the way they sensed each other’s actions, to fit in with them, was awe-inspiring to watch.

  They themselves compared it to the way a wolf-pack operated. But unlike a wolf-pack, there was no defined alpha. If any of them could be called the leader, it was Orion, but they all seemed to take their turn at leadership in a fight. Again, this often confused opponents who did not know who to look to
when trying to anticipate the pack’s moves.

  “You are a lucky young lady to have the loyalty of those four,” the lanista was saying to me.

  I assumed his comment was because Pater had finished telling him the tale of Camellia’s deception and traitorous plans for Pater’s gladiators. He may well have added how he sent her back to the far reaches of the empire where he had found her. What he always left out, though, was the part where I had spent several weeks alone with Asterius. I imagined he did this, in part, to protect my reputation, but also to prevent him having to think too long and hard about that time himself. If he did, his suspicions of misconduct might have forced him to put Asterius to death, not to mention finding some suitably dire punishment for me. And he would have been well within his rights to do so.

  For a Roman noblewoman, being intimate with a slave was considered as repugnant as being with a farmyard animal. And a gladiator-slave was the lowest of the low. Any hint of impropriety could put us all in mortal danger. Even I could legally be put to death if the stain on the family’s honour was seen to be bad enough.

  And being with any one of my men would have been bad enough. More than bad enough, even if my virginity remained intact.

  But I did not care. I had made my decision years ago, and would never regret it, no matter the consequences.

  “Yes, I do consider myself lucky to have the loyalty and protection of those slaves. And so I would be very unhappy to hear you misstepped and caused them harm. Any of them.”

  I smiled sweetly to take away the sting of the threat. But it was a threat. If I found this man used my men to line his pockets, without considering their safety, I would find a way to punish him.

  But excellent gladiators meant big money to men like this. So, I had to hope he would weigh the long-term gains to be made from my men over the short-term spectacles he could create with them to impress the senate or emperor. Spectacles that could see one or more of them badly hurt or killed.

  The training session seemed to have come to an end and the men were filing out of the arena, looking sweaty and exhausted. The lanista called to the Wolf Pack, and they strode over to the wall that separated the viewing area from the arena. I devoured my men hungrily with my eyes, searching for any sign of injuries they might have incurred since I last saw them. Surely they would have come to some harm during their first fights, not to mention at practise sessions.

  But though I could see nothing new, I did not stop looking. Only the carefully neutral expressions on my pack’s faces warned me that I needed to hide my feelings.

  “Gladiators, you are performing well, I see,” Pater said with pride, making eye-contact with each in turn.

  I caught sight of the two young men who had completed their training at the same time as my pack. They were hovering at the entrance to the training field. Apparently, they were angry and resentful because, yet again, the Wolf Pack was being given special notice. I felt for them. It must have been hard over the past ten years always coming second to these four impressive men. Both had to be exemplary fighters to have made it through the training and initiation. Yet they remained forever in the shadows while the light was shined, full-force, on the Wolf Pack.

  My men bowed their heads in acknowledgement of their master’s compliment. I knew it was my turn to speak.

  “I wanted to come to see your first contests, but the roads were not good enough to travel back in December. But Pater said I could be here to watch you this time. I am looking forward to it, more than you can possibly know.”

  They smiled then, all of them. Even Orion, although his was—as always—more a tortured smirk than genuine grin. If I thought them handsome when they were serious, it was nothing to their brilliance when they smiled like this. And those smiles were all for me.

  Their pride in their achievements lifted my heart. Part of me had worried that once they were in the arena proper, where blood would be shed freely, they may not enjoy their profession so much. I had heard of many slaves sent to the arena taking their own lives rather than face the terrors of it. Some, they said, considered it an indignity to be made to kill or die for the pleasure of the crowd.

  “It’s good to see you, Mistress, and to know you’ll be there to cheer us on when we fight again,” Asterius said with all his usual mocking gallantry.

  Orion shot him a quelling glance that did nothing to change Asterius’ attitude. He was incorrigible. And I missed him so much my chest ached with it. But not only for him. All of them held such an impossible place in my heart. I loved them all, though I knew it was wrong.

  When Asterius and I escaped to Sardinia together, I confided that I felt as if I had given all my heart to each of them. Which, of course, made no sense. But it was the way it felt, and if someone asked me to choose between them, I doubt I could have done it. Which was lucky, because I could not have any of them. If I were to marry, it would have to be to a man of my own class.

  “Is the medical attention you get as good as what you are used to? What about the accommodation and food?” I asked, trying to get my mind off my heart and the impossible choice it wanted to make.

  “I doubt any medical attention could be as good as what we received in the barracks,” Typhon said meaningfully. “But it’s adequate. They boil their instruments and keep everything very clean. I know Ariaratus considers cleanliness important.”

  I nodded. “He does. And I am happy it will suffice. And the other things?”

  This time it was Talos who answered. “We have managed to bribe and threaten the men in the largest of the sleeping quarters to change with us, so we can continue sharing with each other. And though there are more rats than we’re used to, it’s not all that bad. The food is plentiful. That’s good, because we can’t provide for ourselves anymore.”

  He grinned cheekily at me. It was more Asterius’ way to hint at our forbidden activities. Why was the protective, pragmatic, Talos risking us all with talk of those campfire nights?

  But I noticed for the first time that the lanista had departed, along with the last of the spectators. So it was only my men and Pater who heard him. And Pater knew I occasionally visited the campfire while he was away.

  I looked quickly at Pater to see if he understood the reference. And of course he did.

  He smiled. “You were given special privileges because I considered you deserved them. Make sure to prove me right.”

  “When the Little Mistress told us you allowed us our nights by the campfire we were greatly honoured, Master,” Orion said, with suitable austerity.

  I beamed at him to try to ease a little of that seriousness. The end of his lips turned up just the slightest bit in response. For anyone else, it would have been a broad-faced grin.

  Orion considered any show of emotion dangerous. It made a person vulnerable. That he had allowed me to become a part of his pack had been a testament to his affection for me, because it made us all incredibly vulnerable. But even he saw the need to take certain risks. There was more to life than duty. And I tried to demonstrate that fact to him every chance I got. Such as in moments like this when I could make him smile when he was trying to be sober and dutiful.

  “Yes, yes. And you repaid me by saving my daughter.”

  “That was Asterius,” Orion pointed out humbly.

  “It was all of you. You all made the decision to find Pater to tell him what was happening to me. And all of you would have done it, had you been given the chance,” I argued.

  “I was just the lucky one,” Asterius agreed without an ounce of humour. His eyes burned into mine, and I had to look away before I went up in flames. Gods, I wanted him!

  I remembered how he had looked at my naked body that first time. As if he were eating me up or memorising every inch of me so he could replay it over and over again in his mind later. And every inch of me had responded, coming alive in a way I had never known before.

  “As I said, I am in your debt. You did more than was required of you. And for that I will alwa
ys be grateful. This young woman is everything to me,” Pater put an affectionate arm around my shoulder and kissed my head.

  Though I wanted to keep them talking as long as I could, I knew if we stayed any longer it would look odd. When Pater gave them leave to depart I offered them each a sad little smile.

  “Good luck. I know you will not need it, but may the gods be with you,” I said softly.

  They turned hastily away and strode off without a backward glance. It felt as if my melancholy had threatened to infect them, and they couldn’t afford to let it undermine their resolve.

  “You are too attached to those slaves, Ennia. It will only hurt you,” Pater said gently.

  He still had his arm around me, and I burrowed into him for comfort. “They were the closest thing to friends I had when you were gone. I would have been very lonely if I had not spent a little time with them. And they were always respectful. You had nothing to worry about. I am still a virgin, I assure you.”

  He nodded and turned me toward the stairs. “I know. I would expect nothing less from you. Or them. But I am sorry you were left so much alone. Maybe I should have sent you here during those months I was away. You could have made friends among our own kind. But it is done now. If you wished to stay in Rome after I go, to meet suitable men and attend social gatherings, I am sure my cousin would not mind. He said as much. Or his wife did.” I could tell the offer hurt him.

  My heart began to beat faster in my chest. Before my pack left, I would have fought to stay at home to work with Ariaratus. Now... Now I did not know what I wanted. Staying in Rome, doing what other young patricians like me did, was of no interest to me. But this was where my pack was, even if I could not see them. It was stupid and weak of me. Ariaratus needed me. And Rome would become even more noxious the hotter the weather became. But...

  “I might do just that for a while, Pater. There is more for me to do here, I suppose. And I might be safer. Although there has been no sign of the Parthians. If they ever did want me. We only had Camellia’s word for that.”