Gladiatrix

XLVI

Balbus had assigned the biggest six guards in his employ to stand in his study. Flat-eyed and brutal, the men held their batons loosely in their hands, ready for trouble. The lanista had decided he would take no chances with this meeting.

He saw the large form of Catuvolcos approaching, flanked by his charges. The Gaul had taken the precaution of having the two women chained, ankles and wrists, and Balbus winced. The pair of them would doubtless be furious at this indignity. It was like dealing with the worst kind of children, he thought sourly.

Deadly children, though, he reminded himself. He forced a smile.

‘Greetings, ladies,’ he said, not wishing to acknowledge one before the other. They glared at him and he knew his assumption had been right. Balbus clasped his hands on the desk before him. ‘I have summoned you both here as I have a gift for the two of you. Something you want very much.’ He lifted a parchment from the desktop. ‘This,’ he said, ‘is a communication from Sextus Julius Frontinus. Shall I read it to you?’ Always keep the crowd hanging on, Balbus thought to himself — ever the showman.

‘You should,’ Lysandra said. ‘The idiot barbarian has no letters.’

Sorina growled, lunging at Lysandra, but was intercepted by Catuvolcos. He pushed her back into the arms of two waiting guards. Lysandra sneered at her.

‘There’s no need for that,’ Balbus sighed, thankful for the precautions that had been taken. ‘As you both know, Frontinus has organised a spectacle for a high-ranking member of the Senate in Rome. It is a huge endeavour, the biggest this province has seen thus far.’ He paused for effect. ‘You two will not fight in the usual supporting bouts; it has been decided that you will top the card. Above the men. You will fight a death match at the end of the games.’

Sorina’s smile was feral. ‘Why, Balbus, surely this senator wants a match. This girl-child will fall too quickly under my blade. Like her friend. And her lover.’

Lysandra’s face reddened and Balbus saw her eyes narrow almost imperceptibly; he was grateful for the Spartan discipline that the former priestess cherished. He knew that had the barb been fired the other way, Sorina would be at Lysandra’s throat.

He was startled at the measure of hate in the Amazon’s words.

Sorina had loved Eirianwen too, and to use her death as weapon to wound Lysandra spoke volumes as to the depth of their enmity.

‘Now you two listen.’ He pointed a finger. ‘You’ve got your wish. You can cut lumps out of each other on the day. But not before,’ he added meaningfully. ‘You have your own gaggles of friends and followers; you are both leaders. I expect you to stay apart and encourage your women to do the same. If there are any disturbances before or during the games, any at all, I’ll hold you two responsible. Your eyes will be put out and I’ll sell you to the mines. Don’t think that I won’t carry out this threat. My life is on the line if this goes awry, and I’ll revenge myself on you both before anything happens to me.’

He was sure even Lysandra baulked at that. Pointless, he realised to threaten a gladiatrix with death, but maiming was something else entirely. ‘I hope we understand each other.’

Neither woman spoke, but the hatred in the air was palpable.

Balbus dismissed them, reminding himself to ensure that Falco played up the rivalry between them in the promotions. He was not pleased that Frontinus had forced his hand in this matter after their discussion, but he was a businessman. He would, he decided, maximise any profit to be made from the death of one of his best.

The two women, separated by guards, did not speak as they were escorted from Balbus’s villa. Only when they had reached the training area did Sorina break the stony silence.

‘I will kill you.’

The ice coloured gaze of her hated foe fell upon her, the arrogant lip curled. But Sorina saw nothing in Lysandra’s eyes, no fire of anger, neither passion nor hatred. They were blank, the fixed stare of a marble statue. ‘I think not,’ was all she said.

Catuvolcos released her from her chains and she strode away without further comment. Sorina watched her back retreating into the crowds, shaken by the exchange despite herself.

She shook off the feeling. That Lysandra had shown no battle joy was testament that she lacked the stomach for the fight. She feared her, and had been at pains to cover it with the gambler’s straight face. Sorina’s grin was fierce as Catuvolcos undid her chains. ‘The gods have smiled upon me,’ she said to him.

‘I think the gods laugh at us, Sorina.’

She sniffed. ‘She will be dead soon; her blight will be cut from the earth, and then perhaps you will get your head straight. There can be no friendship between us and the likes of her.’

Catuvolcos shrugged. ‘Perhaps it will be as you say,’ he said and moved away. The Amazon knew that he lied but did not care. Joy coursed through her as the reality became apparent.

Lysandra would face her in the arena.

And Lysandra would die.

Lysandra did not look back. She was pleased that she had buried her elation deep within; she had revealed nothing to Sorina and this lack of emotion would infuriate and confound her.

Whether the Amazon realised it or not, the fight had already begun, but Lysandra suspected that the barbarian would be in blissful ignorance of the fact. The key to victory would be in preparedness, in beating the old woman before they had set foot in the arena. The mind was the most effective weapon and one that barbarians overlooked. Perhaps, Lysandra thought, it was because most of them simply lacked the capability for higher levels of comprehension.

One thing she promised herself was that her victory would not be a quick one. No thrusts to the throat to end the old crone’s life quickly. She would draw the bout out, make Sorina suffer as Danae had suffered.

As Eirianwen had suffered.

As she herself had suffered.

Sorina would go to her barbarian gods torn and broken, cut to bloody pieces. Lysandra regarded the statue of Roman-Athene that was at the far side of the training area. She raised both her hands and made a vow of her thoughts.