Gladiatrix

LIV

‘Are you sure?’ Thebe eyed Lysandra critically. ‘It’s so beautiful, though.’

‘I am sure.’ The two women, accompanied by Varia, were in Lysandra’s cell. Above them, they could hear the rhythmic thrum of the crowd, the muted howls of the mob.

‘It’s never bothered you before.’

‘This is different,’ Lysandra snapped.

Thebe shrugged. ‘Very well then.’ She took hold of Lysandra’s hair, and with bronze scissors, cut a huge hank of it away. The raven tress fell to the floor, where it was gathered by Varia. ‘I’ll make it short,’ she said. ‘But you aren’t going out there bald, Lysandra.’

‘Short is good enough,’ the Spartan muttered. ‘Just get on with it.’

‘You are ready for this, Sorina.’ Teuta gently massaged the muscles on the Amazon’s shoulders, keeping them loose. ‘All your life, you have been a warrior, from swaddling to saddle, to this place here. You have always been the best, Clan Chief. That you hate your enemy honours the gods; that your enemy is Lysandra is nothing. She is just another body, another victim to your blade.

You will strike her down.’

‘I am sure of it,’ Sorina murmured.

Trajanus applauded politely as a Carian gladiatrix dispatched her foe on command. He turned to Frontinus. ‘I must say, Governor, that I am impressed. These games have been a delightful elucidation. It is my opinion, that, whilst these women that you so espouse are a titillating addition, they lack the strength and skill of proper gladiators.’

Frontinus shrugged, and his response was somewhat lofty. ‘The mob seems to enjoy both equally.’ He gestured to the sea of faces about them. ‘Do you not think?’

Trajanus nodded disdainfully. ‘I cannot help but agree. But it must be said that these performing women you have here are indeed superior to anything we have in Rome.’ The time for hedging and veiled competition was over. ‘I think the Emperor will be well pleased with next year’s spectacle if it comes anywhere close to this one. I shall tell him this is so,’ he said with finality.

Frontinus winked. ‘You’ve yet to see our best,’ he said. ‘But I thank you.’

Trajanus motioned for Diocles to pour for them. ‘Think nothing of it, my friend,’ he said. With that, he turned his eyes back to the sands.

Lysandra was alone. She had Thebe oil her, and sent both her and Varia away. Before long, she would be under the eyes of the multitudes, but for now she needed solitude. She glanced at the small statuette of Athene above her bunk. The unmoving ivory features seemed to be fixed in an enigmatic half-smile.

‘Be with me tonight,’ she whispered.

She ran a hand ruefully through her shorn hair. In Hellas it was the mark of mourning and she realised that, if she was victorious, she would mourn. For if Sorina fell, there would be no cause for which to fight. She would have proven, beyond all doubt that she was superior. That she was Spartan. That she was the best.

But thereafter? There would always be others like her, she realised. Always another who wished to prove that she could beat the best. In the end, she knew that when Sorina fell, she herself would become her.

Gladiatrix Prima. The one to defeat.

To be in this place was her destiny, as Telemachus had said.

Thinking of the Athenian priest made her smile. She wondered briefly if he was out there, amidst the ravening mob, come to watch her in this greatest of trials. Somehow, she knew that he was.

Sorina regarded herself in the bronze mirror. There was no mark of age upon her. Clad only in the subligaculum, she saw her breasts were prouder and firmer than they had been in years. Muscles stood out on her stomach, chiselled as if she were a Roman statue.

She too was alone with her thoughts. She felt the weight that had burdened her since Eirianwen’s death lift. The curse of the Morrigan, that the beautiful Druid’s daughter predicted so long ago, had passed. Looking back, she realised that she had indeed become maddened with hatred. Obsessed with it. It had set her apart, branded her indelibly. But now she felt that the madness had gone.

Only the hate remained. She would allow it to burn within her this one last day. Till Lysandra had fallen. Then she would let go of it and have her peace. This, she knew, would be her last battle, even if she had to maim herself to escape the arena. Balbus would have no say in it. Choice, at last, would be hers.

‘It’s time.’

She glanced up, to see the blocky form of Titus in her doorway.

‘Centurion!’ A smile sprang to her lips, unbidden. ‘I thought you were at the ludus.’

‘I was,’ he said. ‘But I could not miss this, Sorina. Much has been said and done these past months. I came to wish you luck.

Both of you,’ he added. ‘The best will win, and that is all you should want and hope for.’

‘Then I shall win.’ She got to her feet. ‘Let us go.’

Lysandra moved towards the light. Around her, the bustle in the passageways ceased as she passed by. Her friends were there, as were Balbus, Stick and Catuvolcos. The Gaul, she noted, had brought Doris with him. By them stood Telemachus, come to see her as she knew he would. She wondered why they had all come to her side of the arena, when she felt movement close by her.

Titus emerged from the gloom, flanked by Sorina. Like herself, the Dacian was nude save for the loincloth, her body oiled and gleaming in the torch light. She tensed, but the older woman made no aggressive move, her eyes blank and focused.

Titus steered Sorina to Lysandra’s side, and pointed her in the direction of the Gate of Life. ‘This,’ he said, placing his hands their shoulders, ‘is as it should be. Luck to you both.’ He shoved gently, and both women moved forward, their feet in step.

The tunnel vibrated with the roar of the crowd, so familiar to them both, yet this time so different. As one they moved towards the light, the vestiges of Lysandra and Sorina falling away from them. The gate cranked open, bathing them in the cacophony of an expectant mob. The beast ranged around them, ravenous for the feast that was to come.

As they stepped in to the light, the mob howled with lust at the sight of them. Lysandra and Sorina remained within — it was just Amazona and Achillia now.