The Gladiator's Woman Page 2

  "Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, yes.” They came together. Scipio's murmured groans mingling with hers as a river of liquid heat leapt up from between her legs to her stomach, tightening her nipples and raising the hairs on her arms.

  Afterwards, they clung to each other, shaken and spent by the force of their emotions. Scipio kissed her and rubbed his cheek against hers before drawing away. Collina almost sank to the ground but managed to stay upright as she reached down to massage her legs, which were cramping, unaccustomed as they were to the particular demands she'd recently made of them. Scipio made to help her, but she waved him off.

  "I'm fine. I think the blood wasn't flowing properly there for a minute."

  "I can carry you back, if you like."

  "Ha. And wouldn't the brothers laugh. No, don't worry. I'm fine. It was a passing thing."

  He looked doubtful but didn't argue. “As you say."

  As they walked away from the wall, back toward the light of the square, he took her arm again and she didn't pull back. What had happened between them left her feeling giddy, breathless.

  He smiled broadly, clearly feeling the same way.

  "You're my woman now."

  "Yes,” she said, smiling back. “The healer at the ludus and Scipio's woman, too.

  You don't object to that, do you?” Most men didn't like their wives to work for others, preferring that they stayed home instead, but they were not husband and wife yet. Maybe that would come. It was too early to tell.

  "Not while I remain a slave. Maybe when I'm free and we start a family. I want to be a shoemaker. I made Brutus's new sandals, you know. I will make a pair for you."

  It was a sweet dream he had, Collina thought. She prayed to the gods it would be so, but not too fervently for they were a contrary lot. She knew that too well after the experience with her ailing father.

  That night and for the rest of the week, Scipio slept in her bed and life seemed very sweet to Collina. In the daytime, Scipio practiced with the other gladiators while she tended to any wounds that they suffered and then at night she sank into the pleasure his body brought her and listened, mesmerized, to his memories of his African past and his dreams for their future. Then Brutus announced the ludus's participation in the upcoming games, a month away, and the news loomed over their heads like a dark cloud.

  Collina took to rising at dawn with Scipio and stumbling out into the cool morning air to watch every move he made, anxiously trying to gauge his progress. The day before the games, she was a mass of nerves, hardly able to eat and perpetually distracted.

  * * * *

  "I know there isn't anything in the wine that really helps,” Scipio said.

  Collina frowned. It was the night before the games and she was following Brutus's orders, dispensing a potion Tiberius had concocted called Fighter's Wine.

  "So why do you still want it?” she asked, fiddling with the top of the amphora. “What sense does it make?” She hadn't seen him since they'd parted that morning. Brutus had kept her busy all day, making sure she would be ready when needed after the games, all her medicines in readiness for whatever wounds the gladiators suffered. The stress of preparation and her anxiety about Scipio had left her frazzled and short-tempered.

  Scipio was the fifth gladiator in the line to receive the concoction, but he was the only one she'd told. The wine contained nothing more than defrutum or grape syrup, mixed with ginger, nutmeg and just a couple drops of opium, perhaps to ensure that they were well rested. At that dosage, the opium would have worn off by morning. She'd explained all that.

  "It's what a gladiator does. Tonight we drink the wine, we pray to Nemesis, and we clasp each man as a brother because, on the morrow, we may fight like enemies. If I leave one of those things out, who knows but that it may not be my body dragged out through the Death Gate?"

  Collina couldn't argue with him. If a man who might die the next day thought taking some harmless drink granted him magical protection, who was she to withhold it from him. He threw back his head, gulping down the sweet drink.

  "We will not have time together tonight,” he said, handing her back the goblet. “I must sleep with my brothers. Brutus believes lovemaking saps a man's strength."

  "I know. I'm sorry. That's so stupid. I don't believe it."

  "The others say he's right."

  "They're stupid, too. Gladiators!” She wanted to take him by the shoulders and tie him up so he couldn't go anywhere the next day. She wanted to shake some sense into him. Couldn't he find another way to win his freedom?

  "Will you give me some token to wear tomorrow in the arena?"

  "I suppose,” she said, sourly. “Since I can't stop you from fighting."

  She rummaged around for a pearl-tipped pin that had been a present from her mother.

  "Will this do?"

  "Very well. I will twist it into my belt. You will pray to your gods for me?"

  "Yes. Of course.” All night. How could he think otherwise?

  "Good-night, then."

  "Good-night.” She wanted to fly to him, but if she did, she might never let him go. He was a gladiator. She would dishonor him by any childish show of fear. He spun on his heel and strode back into the night, taking her heart with him.

  She dispensed the ridiculous Fighter's Wine to eleven more men, the rest of the troupe, before she was finished. Later, in her bed, she tossed and turned, worried sick about her lover's coming trial. What sleep she got was fitful and full of bad dreams.

  The next morning, Collina found the gladiators seated at the long table in the kitchen eating porridge and eggs. Some nodded at her as she took a seat at one end of the table and she smiled back tentatively. She knew the names of fewer than six of the men arrayed around the table, but already she dreaded the thought of any of their deaths. She glanced at Scipio, who caught her eye and smiled. It was too much.

  Collina pushed her bowl away and rose so quickly she almost toppled her chair. She half-ran, half-walked out of the kitchen.

  "Death comes to every living thing,” said a voice behind her.

  Collina spun around. Scipio had followed her.

  "I know that better than anyone."

  "So what disturbs you?"

  "Suddenly, it just seems so pointless. You eat and then you go out to meet your deaths. Foolish.” She spat out the word.

  "We are gladiators."

  "You were not always. None of them were.” She waved her arm at the men emerging from the kitchen. They looked at her curiously as they made their way to their rooms.

  "Have you never watched a game?"

  "Of course I have."

  "So why this sudden concern? Did you never before think of us as men who ate and slept and dreamed?” His words were harsh but his voice was gentle. “Did you believe we were no more real than puppets?"

  "I...” It was true. She hadn't been a frequent attendant but she had gone to the amphitheater and watched men cut each other down. Later, she'd gone home again without sparing them another thought. Being around Scipio and his brothers had opened her eyes.

  "Scipio, see to your weapons,” a trainer called out.

  "Promise me.” She caught his arm before he could walk off. “Promise me you will come back, that you won't die."

  "I won't die. I will come back to you.” He covered her hand with his. His eyes darkened. “I ... I care for you, Collina. More than perhaps you understand.” He brought her hand to his lips and then strode away.

  Collina willed herself not to cry minutes later when all the gladiators marched out of the ludus to join the parade that would wend its way around Capua before the start of the games. The ludus felt empty without them but she dawdled, knowing the long wait in the amphitheater would just heighten her anxiety. She gave the gladiators a long headstart before gathering up such medicines and implements as she thought she might need. By the time she got to the amphitheater, most seats were taken and it took her several minutes before she located somewhere that would give her both a
good view of the arena and allow for quick egress.

  The sponsor of the games and his family sat on her far left while the important people of Capua were in a special box to her right. The rest of the stands were taken up with the ordinary men and women of the town.

  Six teams were scheduled to fight that day. Brutus's ludus was matched against one owned by Lentulus Batiates, a lanista famous for his cruelty to his gladiators. Their match was second and Collina could barely contain herself as she waited. She tapped her feet impatiently, her eyes fixed on the men fighting below her. Was Scipio watching them, too? She hunched forward trying to catch a glimpse of him but failed.

  As the games progressed, Collina realized the crowd was in a murderous mood. There were few calls to let vanquished fighters live. Collina chewed her lips. Finally, the surviving gladiators of the first match were waving their palm fronds and exiting through the Gate of Life, leaving their fallen brothers to be dragged out through the Death Gate for an immediate burial on the outskirts of the town.

  Slaves laid fresh sand over the arena to cover the patches of blood left by the previous combatants. The herald sounded his horn. It was time for Scipio and his brothers to emerge. Collina craned her neck for her first glimpse of her lover.

  When he appeared, she groaned. Scipio had chosen to fight in the retiarii style and wore no armor except for a shoulder guard and an arm shield on his left arm. A weighted-net dangled from his right hand and in his left he carried a trident. The retiarii was the least well-armed of the styles he could have chosen.

  Collina didn't know if she could bear to watch. She hugged her arms around her body as he was paired with a heavily armed gladiator attired in the secutor style with a helmet, leg guards, and an arm guard. He wielded a long dagger in his right hand and in his left he held a formidable shield.

  The referees signaled the start of the round.

  Wasting no time, the secutor lunged at Scipio who danced out of his way, flicking his wrist to gather his net up out of his opponent's way. The secutor lunged again. Again Scipio moved out of reach but this time he jabbed at the secutor with his trident. The secutor swiped at the trident, obviously hoping to either break it or fling it away but Scipio had already withdrawn it. The secutor advanced on Scipio, his slashing dagger gleaming in the afternoon sun as Scipio retreated.

  Another thrust and Scipio stumbled. The secutor struck again, stepping to the side and bringing the dagger down on Scipio's trident before he had a chance to move. The crowd roared. The secutor's blow had broken Scipio's trident and the lower half now lay several feet away.

  "That is always Spartacus's strategy,” said a man sitting behind her. “To deprive the retiarii of his trident."

  The secutor pressed his attack but in a repetition of the complex, twisting maneuver she'd seen him practice in the courtyard at the ludus, Scipio twirled his net threateningly overhead and jabbed at the secutor. The slow-moving secutor, weighed down by his armor, lurched out of the way. Now their positions were reversed and Scipio had managed to work his way closer to his broken trident. A drop, a roll, and he grabbed it in his hands, rising to his feet in one fluid movement. Dancing in close to the wary secutor, he suddenly brought the broken trident up and flicked his wrist. The secutor's dagger went flashing through the air.

  Collina scrambled to get a better look, unable to believe what she'd seen. Now it was the well-armed gladiator who retreated from his opponent. Collina scarcely breathed as Scipio, graceful as a cat, moved in, raised his net and cast it neatly over the other gladiator, executing a quick turn that threw the secutor to his knees. The secutor struggled but could not free himself. A referee ran up to the two fighters and held up Scipio's hand. The crowd went wild. Now everyone looked toward the sponsor of the games for his decision. Would he grant Spartacus mercy? Handkerchiefs fluttered around the amphitheater. The sponsor of the games stood up. He lifted his right arm, his palm flat. People cheered and Collina shouted right along with them. The crowd, blood thirst satiated by the previous match, wanted the secutor to live to fight another day. The sponsor's hand clenched, his thumb flipped up. The secutor was reprieved.

  "Perhaps better for Spartacus if he'd lost his head, Lentulus will be none too pleased,” the man behind her said but Collina didn't pay him any mind.

  Scipio had won his first match. He was no longer a tiro. She was so thankful for his good fortune, she resolved to stop at the temple of Nemesis on her way back to the ludus and make the goddess an offering of her own.

  * * * *

  "So,” Scipio began later that night after she'd seen to the wounded gladiators. The ludus had done well and none had died, but many had long slashing cuts and one had twisted his ankle. Collina was pleased that was the sum of the injuries she was called to treat.

  "I have come back to you as I promised.” Scipio placed her mother's pin carefully down on the table beside the door.

  Collina felt rooted to the ground, her throat suddenly dry.

  "Come,” he said, gently.

  She wanted to run into his arms but now that he was in front of her, alive and well, she couldn't move. “I..."

  In an instant, he'd crossed the space between them and hugged her to him.

  His lips claimed hers and she molded her body to his, giving herself up to the sweetness of their kiss. Still holding on to her, Scipio pushed her gently back to the bed and swiftly removed her shift, dropping it to the floor and covering it with his own tunic. The lamplight flickered over their bodies as the gladiator rained kisses on first one breast, then the other. Collina's nipples hardened.

  "Suck. Please,” she begged.

  Scipio obediently drew one breast into his mouth while his fingers circled her other nipple. Collina undulated with pleasure. She ran her hands up and down his muscled back, delighting in his hard, smooth body. Sighing deeply, she opened her legs, positioning herself so his cock-head rubbed against the area guaranteed to give her the most pleasure. Her busy hands drew another deep groan from her gladiator. He buried his face in her neck, nibbling at her skin as she moved his length back and forth against the slippery lips of her pussy.

  "I want to taste you,” he whispered. Before she knew what he was about, he'd slid out of her hands and pushed himself down in the bed until his face was between her thighs. Collina stared at him, astonished and disbelieving. Did he mean to put his mouth on her there? There were many who said doing so weakened a man, made him a woman's complete slave. Slowly, his eyes never leaving her pussy, staring at it as if seeing manna from the gods, Scipio lowered his face closer and closer. Collina's nipples tightened as she felt his warm breath on her clit. He fingered her experimentally, rubbing his thumb in a slow sensuous circle around that tiny throbbing mound. He poked first one finger inside her and then two, still staring at her, watching how her body reacted to what he did.

  "Lick it,” she whispered, wishing with all her heart that he would but not really believing it could happen until his tongue replaced his finger.

  Collina shuddered in shock. She cradled his head in her hands pulled him gently to her. Thus encouraged, he lapped at her with long, steady strokes, pausing only to suck softly at her clit before doing it again and again, drawing her deep into a swirling vortex of pleasure. His fingers sought out her vagina and slid inside, thrusting deeper and deeper. Collina pushed her hips off the bed, offering herself—wide open and wet—to his mouth and his fingers as he pushed her into the sun, to passion's peak.

  Her climax gathered between her legs and broke over her like a storm, swelling her breasts and breaking her into a sweat. Scipio thrust himself back up on the bed and kissed her, his mouth tangy with the faint taste of cloves and salt, her taste. Collina held him tightly to her, more grateful than she could say for what he'd just done to her and for her.

  "I ... Please ... I...” The lust confusing Scipio's speech was made plain in his eyes.

  Collina smiled, proud to see how much he wanted her.

  "Come, sweetling,” she murmured.


  Scipio slid into her, needing no further invitation. Collina's legs closed over his back as he moved inside her, his face tight and drawn. It felt as if he were touching her core and turning it to liquid heat. Her cries matched his as he built to his climax. His strokes quickened. Her belly muscles clenched, tightened, clenched. A hot red flower bloomed in the pit of her abdomen, curling her toes.

  "Aah-aah,” she cried out. She would have made more noise but Scipio's mouth covered hers. His body bucked and she could feel his warm spend entering her.

  They kissed as if they would devour each other, lips and tongues meshing greedily. Collina massaged his back and he lowered himself down on her so she couldn't move, his cock still inside her but now soft. He kissed her ear and she ran her tongue over his lips.

  "What was that?” he said, suddenly rolling off of her.

  Shouts. Metal clanging on metal.

  "What? What's going on?” Were the gladiators engaging in some kind of celebration? Was this another of their rituals?

  "Stay here.” Displaying the lithe grace that had won him the fight earlier that day, he jumped off the bed, drew on his tunic and ran out the door.

  Collina experienced his physical withdrawal as a shock. She pressed her legs together trying to preserve the memory of their lovemaking even as the shouts outside increased. Scipio re-entered her room almost at a run.

  "Wha..."

  "Lentulus had Spartacus and his brothers shackled in their rooms after the games, but they broke free. They've killed the lanista and taken over the school. Other gladiators are joining them."

  Outside, the shouts died away.

  "Your brothers?"

  "Several have left. I don't know exactly how many. The fighting you heard was Brutus and the trainers trying to hold them back."

  Collina pressed her palms to her face. Her hands were so cold.

  "What will you do?"

  "You're my woman now. What do you think I should do?"

  "I?” she cried. “How can I presume to tell you? But you're a slave. You owe Brutus."

  He sat down beside her, took her hands in his.