Typhon Page 5

  “Why do you speak so fine? Why does a little handmaiden think about words like Spirit?” I demanded, yet again bemused by the oddness of the girl.

  “Pater teaches me. He says I am very bright. Beyond my years.” Her pride was genuine. And it made sense that, if her father was a scribe and an educated man, he might teach her in his spare moments. Even if she was a girl. And if she was a friend to the Little Mistress she would likely pick up her proper way of speaking.

  As if to bring a close to the conversation, Talos reached for the sack and began handing out the treats within. The second rabbit would take a while to cook, but while we waited we could eat what Accalia had brought.

  I had never seen, no less tasted the sweet meats she’d brought. Nuts and buttery pastry held together by the sweetest honey I’ve ever tasted. My mouth was in bliss as I savoured every morsel.

  Accalia was watching me eat, I realised, when I opened my eyes.

  Embarrassed, I snapped, “What?”

  She blushed and looked away. “Nothing. I had forgotten how good those taste.”

  I still had half of mine left. She hadn’t brought enough for herself and she clearly wanted some. So, reluctantly, I offered her what I had left.

  Accalia looked at me in surprise and shook her head. “No. I... I can have as many of those as I like at home. You eat that one.”

  Relieved, I put the last bite into my mouth before she could change her mind. My eyes closed again in bliss. The honey exploded on my tongue like golden sunshine mixed with honeysuckle. I doubt I’d ever tasted anything as good in my life.

  “Do you really eat like this all the time?” Orion asked, studying his honey treat closely. He even sniffed it.

  Again the girl shrugged sadly. “Yes, though I have not felt like eating much since Pater went away.”

  Asterius reached over and patted her shoulder. “It gets easier. I felt like my heart was breaking when I left my mother. But Typhon was with me, and then these rough nuts came along. After a while I found I didn’t miss her as much.”

  My brother had never mentioned this to me before. I’d seen his sadness at the time, of course, but he’d never admitted it to me. None of us had admitted missing our mothers, I realised. We’d all been trying to act as if we were already uncaring gladiators, not frightened children taken away from our mothers.

  “Do you never see your mothers? They are so close. Surely, if you can escape to come up here, you could –”

  “We get to see our mothers once a month for an afternoon. And we wouldn’t put them at risk by visiting them at other times. And they have other children to care for. They don’t miss us much.” This was Orion, his voice harder than usual.

  It was him not showing weakness again. His mask. I would never understand why he continued to wear that mask around us. Surely he knew we would never betray him?

  Most of the female breeders produced a child every two years. The Master never bred them more often than that because it weakened their blood. And once they had produced and raised five children they would be assigned elsewhere on the estate. Some even married and had more children.

  The male breeders, brought in especially to sire superior stock, usually only stayed long enough to father one child. If that pairing proved a significantly good one, the male might return to father more on that same woman.

  But they were gladiators or warriors, all in their prime, and they were either bought and sold again or rented from their masters for the time it took to produce offspring. By the time their bloodline was determined superior they might be dead.

  Sometimes, especially now that the breeding program was well established, the master used his own stock to father the next generation. This way he could improve on the quality of the bloodline already established. That was what had happened with the others in the Wolf Pack. They were as big and strong as they were because their parents had been second generation products of the breeding program.

  I was the exception. I wouldn’t have even been considered for the arena had I not been fathered by that bastard and been such a big baby at birth. My size also remained remarkable as I grew up. I’d always supposed that, because I had been fostered with a breeder, it had seemed a simple matter to also assign me to the barracks.

  The bastard who sired me also sired a girl on the breeder he’d been bought to impregnate. That girl’s mother had been a big-boned woman and had no trouble giving birth to a good sized girl. I never had much to do with her, my half-sister. All I knew was that she was assigned to the fields at the same time I was assigned to the barracks.

  Girls were always a disappointing outcome for the breeding program, until they were old enough to become breeders themselves. My sister would probably look forward to a much easier life when she reached womanhood. Breeders were never put to a male before they turned eighteen. Girls could get pregnant much earlier than that, but deliveries were always more risky.

  I wondered fleetingly if the Master’s interest in our pack had anything to do with me. My mother had been a favourite with the Master and his wife. They had been furious when she was raped and upset when she died. More than once I’d wondered if the Master might hate the child who killed his favourite. Now I wondered if he might actually value me because of my mother. I did look a lot like her, after all. Or so I was told. Except for my physical size, of course.

  I gave my head a shake and looked at the intruder who had shaken us all to the core with her insights into the Master’s mind. We were special to him. He was watching us with interest, making sure our spirits stayed strong.

  What would he think of Lucullus if he broke us?

  I couldn’t let that happen. We had to get rid of him before any real harm was done.

  “You said this Lucullus was a bastard. Might he just be pushing you hard to get the best out of you?” Accalia asked, turning back to the subject we had drifted away from.

  Talos laughed loudly as he rubbed his injured calf. “The Master put a lot of time into creating the training program. He took advice from the best, and he and his father used trial and error to come up with what worked at each age. They based their training on the Spartan model, though those warriors took their boys away from home at seven, not eight.

  “Now Lucullus has come in and thinks he knows best, just because he’s been a doctores at one of the emperor’s own ludi and survived thirty fights in the arena. That doesn’t make him an expert, it just makes him lucky.”

  “He sounds experienced...” Accalia said uncertainly.

  “He is, in training grown men.” Orion held up his slim arm and flexed it to reveal his muscle. “Does that look like a man’s muscle? Not even the boys in the senior barracks have muscles that can withstand the kind of strain this doctores is putting on us. Well, maybe the oldest might.”

  Accalia nodded, her deep frown back again. “He is hurting you?”

  “He’s going to break us, and by the time the Master gets back it’ll be too late!” I yelled in frustrated fury, making her jump at the suddenness of my explosion.

  I wanted to take it back, or say I was sorry for scaring her, but I wasn’t good at apologies. People who knew me just had to accept me. I was volatile. I was not going to make excuses for it.

  Our newest member bit her lip and stared into the fire. I could tell her mind was turning, but had no idea what about. Maybe she was chewing on hurt feelings because I yelled at her.

  Talos changed the subject and the rest of our time flew by. When the last rabbit was eaten and the fire no more than ash, little Accalia asked the question I was expecting.

  “Can I come again next time?”

  “You going to bring more food?” Talos asked, making it sound like that was the only reason she’d be welcome.

  The way her shoulders slumped a little told me that was exactly what she thought.

  “You can come, even if you can’t get more food. We don’t want you risking getting caught,” I said, surprising myself.

  The look of
gratitude she sent my way had my heart lifting. I suddenly felt as tall as a mountain and as brave as a lion. I pushed away the odd sensation. No little girl was going to affect me. She wasn’t even pretty. And she was a liar and probably crazy.

  Yet I felt my lips turn up without permission and hers did the same. I groaned inwardly and turned away. Girls! Who needed them!

  Chapter Five

  ACCALIA

  After returning safely to my bed I considered Talos’ leg. That neatly stitched cut brought up two things.

  First, it reminded me how much I would love to be able to heal injuries like that. And maybe I could find a way to do so.

  Second, it made me hate this new doctores, who was ignoring Pater’s carefully created program and causing harm to his most precious successes. I was therefore determined to do something about it.

  Pater and I had agreed to write to each other once a week all the time he was away. I had his itinerary and knew just when to write so my missive would get to him at each of his destinations. Right now he was heading by sea to Britannia where there were still slaves to be had since the latest uprising there. He was good friends with the new consul and that man would make sure he was pointed in the direction of the best warrior stock.

  I could, if a missive warranted it, get word to Pater faster than ordinary mail travelled. Such a message could be included with a military dispatch. I knew it could take as little as nine days to reach Londinium, where normally it might take twenty. So that was what I planned to do this time. Although, even if he replied straight away—giving orders to remove Lucullus—it would still be nearly three weeks before it could happen. Anything might have occurred by then.

  But what else could I do? And who was to say Pater would take any notice of my words? It was not as if I could tell him how I knew. It would have to be worded very carefully indeed to make it sound as if it came from a responsible source.

  What if I combined point one and two? What if I sent for Ariaratus, claiming a sick stomach, and got his help with both issues?

  With that thought I settled in to sleep. If this night was anything like the one last week, I would be sleeping the sleep of the dead as soon as I closed my eyes. And I would be paying for my nocturnal adventures on the morrow with tiredness.

  But it was worth it. I was coming to realise it would always be worth it.

  Minerva woke me with a hot tea and a freshly cooked pastry. It had jam in its centre, and I knew Typhon would love it if he were here.

  The look on his face, as he tasted the honey nut pastry, had made me really hungry for the first time since Pater had left. I had remembered how good honey could taste on my tongue. And I had wanted that taste again. No, I had craved that taste again.

  It had softened my heart a little when that spiky-skinned boy had offered me the last bite of his treat. He had clearly never tasted anything so good in his life, and yet he was willing to forgo the last morsel for me. How unselfish was that? Had anyone but my parents ever showed me such consideration before? Not because I was the Little Mistress but because I was just me?

  My mind conjured again the memory of Typhon savouring the luxurious taste of the sweetmeat. I had known it would taste amazing. Just as I knew the pastry being offered to me now would taste amazing. Our cook was the best, after all. It would be light, sweet and flaky and would melt in my mouth.

  I took up the offering and swallowed it down greedily, following it with a few gulps of herbal tea. Sighing with pleasure, I then relaxed back against the wall and smiled.

  “Good to see your appetite has returned, Little Mistress. Your pater will be happy to hear it.”

  I frowned. That wouldn’t get me a visit from Ariaratus. Why hadn’t I thought first before devouring what was put in front of me?

  “Actually, I may have my appetite back, but I had a cramp in my leg most of the night.” I reached down and fingered the same calf Talos had injured, putting on my most pathetic expression. “It took a long time before I could sleep, even though I was sooo tired again last night. It is still there. I think I need to see Ariaratus.”

  Minerva looked at me worriedly and then bobbed her head in agreement. She was so easily fooled. Maybe because I had never tried to fool her before I started visiting the campfire of the slave boys. Well, except for my sewing practice. But I had not done that for a while.

  By the time I was out of bed and dressed, Ariaratus had arrived. He entered my apartment and frowned at the sight of me.

  “Young Missy, you look very tired. Are you not sleeping?” he asked, coming forward to press a cool hand to my forehead.

  “She had a cramp in her leg all night. It kept her from sleep,” Minerva told him, tutting as she did so.

  This was what Talos had worried I would do when I looked at his injured leg. Stupid boy! As if I would ever behave like a clucking chicken.

  While ever Minerva was in the room I could not ask my questions. So I turned to my handmaiden and assumed my most pathetic face.

  “Please Minerva, could you fetch me some fresh pomegranate juice? I know it will help me feel better.”

  Minerva beamed at me and nodded like the chicken I compared her with. She turned on her heel and hustled from the room.

  “You have something to say to me in private?” Ariaratus asked, clearly seeing through my ruse.

  I nodded and looked at him with my saddest expression. “Yes. I am sorry I brought you here under false pretences. But it is important. Doubly important.”

  He nodded his grey head and stroked his long, equally grey beard. His large dark eyes, which sloped up at the ends, studied me closely.

  “First, I have heard troubling news about the new doctores in the barracks. They say he is treating the boys as if they were grown men, even using real swords rather than wooden ones for the sparring sessions. Boys are getting badly injured. Is this so?”

  I saw the shock in the physician’s eyes before he locked it away behind polite neutrality. “You need not worry your head about such things, Missy. I am sure it is not as bad as the gossips would paint it.”

  I huffed in annoyance. Had I always been treated like I knew nothing by this man? Pater had never done so. Why should this slave think he could get away with it?

  “Ariaratus, Pater has spent much of the last two years making me aware of every detail of his breeding and training programs. I will inherit them if Pater never has a son. So I do worry my head about such things, because these are my slaves and their wellbeing is my concern. Was not one boy’s leg cut so deeply you had to stitch him up?”

  The middle-aged Persian’s eyes opened wide as I spoke, and he was nodding by the end when I asked about Talos’ injury.

  “There was an unfortunate injury in the junior barracks yesterday. But such things–”

  “Do not happen when wooden weapons are used,” I interrupted angrily.

  “As you say... But the Master bought this very experienced doctores and –”

  “He is using the same training on children as he used on grown men. It is not acceptable and it is likely to damage many of the younger boys. How many have you treated recently? More than usual?”

  He nodded his head reluctantly. “Far more than usual, I must admit. But your father knows what he’s doing, I’m sure.”

  “Pater only knows what he is told. If this issue is kept from him, there will be trouble when he eventually finds out. I need you to give me a list of the injuries you have treated since this Lucullus took up his role. I want you to show how and why those incidents happened. I will send that list with my next missive to Pater. And it will go out as a matter of urgency.”

  My voice did not sound like mine. I sounded like Pater when he was giving orders. And Ariaratus was paying attention as if I was Pater. Huh, who would have thought!?

  The physician bowed his head in acknowledgement and prepared to leave. “I’ll prepare the list immediately.”

  “Oh, and before you go. I have one more point I wish to raise with you. Mo
re personal this time.”

  His eyebrows lifted, but his face showed no other sign of surprise.

  “Ever since you sewed up my foot for me, I have been fascinated by your profession. I would like to learn to do what you do. I wish you to teach me.”

  Now his surprise could not be hidden, and he almost backed up as if I had struck him. “Young Missy... Little Mistress... That is not possible. You are a girl and a patrician. It is not suitable work for one such as you. To... To learn you would need to follow... f...follow me and watch as I worked... and assist. I go into places someone like you should never go. It... It would not be allowed, even if I... I allowed such a thing.”

  He stammered to a halt, realising he was babbling.

  My mind turned over the possibilities. “But if I was a slave boy my age it would be different?”

  “Of course, of course. In actual fact, your father has suggested I take an assistant, as I am not getting any younger. I expect to discuss it with him when he returns.”

  I nodded. “So, someone my age would not be too young?”

  Ariaratus nodded, relieved I had obviously understood how unsuitable for the position I was.

  “That is good to know. You may go now. Please have your list to me before the midday meal.”

  When the physician left, I turned his words over in my head. He could not take a noble girl into the places he went. Such as the boys’ barracks, for instance, I assumed. But a slave boy would be different.

  I had already discovered how easy it was for me to pass as a slave. The truth was, few people who lived on Pater’s estate had ever seen me up close. I stayed in the villa or travelled in a closed carriage or litter if we went into town. Only the house slaves knew me by sight.