Chapter 5

The heat of the crowd swarmed around her until it felt like she was suffocating.

Her feet treaded up the steps with exertion, each foot fall sounding like her own personal drum.

Her blue eyes darted around her surroundings, glittering with fear, eager for an exit but everywhere she looked all she saw was people.

A mindless rabble of people that all seemed to chant together, their bodies moving in unison as they all looked for the same thing.

Something that could only be provided to them on the sands of the arena; away out of the lives they had built for themselves which they now grew to hate, a glimpse at the magnificence of man and beast.

But she wasn’t here for that.

Moving her head to look over her shoulder, she couldn’t see the guards but she knew they were there.

Her skin tingled as they grew closer.

Taking the next flight of stairs in a panic, brushing past the people that stood in her way, she found her eyes darting to look over her shoulder.

As she did so, she knew she had made a fateful mistake.

She felt the heel of her sandals skid the edge of the step, the stone grazing her flesh and her lips parted in fear.

She knew she was going to fall.

Her arms outstretched to take the brunt of the impact but she was off balance; her body twisted as she tried to run forward whilst looking behind her.

Warm air pushed her weight forward until she was leaping past the stacks, her speed carrying her forward.

She only stopped when her foot caught a niche in the concrete slabs beneath her feet and she was hurled forward, her body slamming to the ground with a dull thud.

Her fall barely drew the attention of those nearest to her as silence befell the arena and its audience.

Groaning in pain, she slowly began to gather herself onto her knees.

As she did so, gazing at her scuffed palms, the young girl’s attention was caught by something on the sands.

Still resting on her knees, her head a few inches above the ledge, she gazed down at the sands and saw him.

A girl from a foreign land she might have been but she still knew that the man that now trekked across the sands himself was the Emperor Trajan.

The fighting had ceased, something she was very grateful for when she saw who was stood upon the sand, but the blood had still flowed and she found her gaze turning to the youngest man among the small group stood before the emperor.

His dark locks and guarded eyes were the only things she needed to see to know who he was.

Noticing that someone was missing, her heart gave a small jolt as she turned her gaze towards the sky and scanned the ledges.

It wasn’t long before she caught sight of the armour glittering in the afternoon sun, a bow armed and ready to shoot in a moment’s notice.

The woman’s expression was completely taken up by the events on the Colosseum floor and she was glad for that as the young girl became aware of shouting in the background.

Her eyes closed briefly, gathering her strength, before she pushed up off her knees and back onto her feet.

But she had barely made it a few steps before a pair of hands wrapped around her arms and pulled her back.

She didn’t struggle. There would be no point for where she was heading.

And as she was dragged away from the edge, Marcia looked towards her mother on the ledge.

But she didn’t see her.

* * *

Lazarus’s hand shook.

Lifting his hand in front of his face, Lazarus watched it like it was a foreign object he did not understand. It shook against his will and he could not seem to neither control nor stop it.

“It’s the adrenaline,” Cato’s smooth and sympathetic voice filled his ear as he came to stand by Lazarus.

Lazarus dropped his hand back to his side.

“This was your first fight-”

“-It wasn’t my first.” Lazarus interrupted, his eyes scanning the room, anything but to look at his uncle because he knew the moment he did Cato would see the truth. He would see the fear that lingered inside him.

So instead Lazarus looked towards the figure of his mother; resting beside a desk, her eyes seemed transfixed by some piece of parchment that had been left unattended.

His head shook in slightly as he saw her behaviour; she was always suspicious, always on her guard.

“Fine,” Cato held up a hand, “But this was your first fight in the arena. It happened to me as well.”

“It did?” Lazarus gazed at Cato; none of his family had ever spoken about their time in the Colosseum, or even their time in Rome.

Cato smiled, trying to make him at ease, “I wasn’t always this gifted, though I might say otherwise.”

Lazarus returned his uncle’s smile, thanking him silently, but he could never be truly at ease as they stood in the darkened room of the Commander’s.

They had been escorted here from the Colosseum and here they had remained for the last thirty minutes with neither of his parents looking upon him.

Lazarus feared that he had truly alienated them as they remained silent, awaiting the verdict.

But Frieda had never been good with being patient as Lazarus became aware of Leonidas trying to talk her down from killing a guard.

“What is all that about?” Lazarus asked Cato, the guard was doing nothing but his duty.

Cato’s voice became tinged with sadness, “Frieda doesn’t have a very good history with Romans. None of us have.”

Lazarus could not hear her exact words but he knew there were a lot of threats being flown about the room and the guard’s facial expression was growing tested.

“Silence yourself Celtic,” Octavia strolled into the room, her eyes barely glancing upon Frieda, “Your accent annoys me.”

Frieda narrowed her eyes at the Commander, no doubt biting her tongue but she remained silent as told.

Lazarus could instantly feel the tension in the room but Octavia remained calm, cutting through the crowd until she stood before his mother.

Her body was relaxed, a pleasant smile upon her lips, and it appeared as though they may start exchanging words at any moment.

But before anybody could move, Octavia had struck out like viper.

In an instant, her fingers had curled into a fist and her knuckles had connected with the side of Krista’s jaw, causing his mother’s head to turn to the side from the shock of her swift attack.

Lazarus was the only one to take a step forward whilst everyone else remained silent.

He saw his mother dart out her tongue to taste the blood that stained her lower lip before she straightened herself and stared straight back at Octavia.

Lazarus was waiting for her to retaliate but she did nothing.

His mother, the Gladiatrix of Rome, had been hit and she did nothing. Lazarus could feel his heart deflate a little.

“The emperor,” Octavia spoke with an air of triumph, “does not want a spectacle. He apologises for the day’s events and, of course, Lazarus and the companion he arrived with shall be immediately released from the Ludus Magnus training school.”

“Companion?” His father frowned, turning to look at his son.

“What!?” Lazarus exclaimed with shock and outrage when he heard the news, “What if I do not wish that?”

Lazarus felt Leonidas’s hand on his shoulder, offering comfort, but he just shrugged him off whilst his gaze turned towards his mother.

“You cannot do this,” Lazarus stated, “I entered Ludus Magnus by my own will.”

Lazarus was begging her to reply but she could barely maintain eye contact for a few seconds before she turned away from him.

“The Emperor requires, however, that you leave Rome this evening. You cannot remain within the city walls.”

Frieda gave a small scoff of humour, “That will be no trouble.”

But Lazarus did not feel any humour in the situation; his mother would still not look at him. He had done the same thing she had; he had fought on the arena. They were no different.

In fact, they were more alike now than ever except that Lazarus was to be taken away like a scolded infant.

He was about to protest once more when a new sound echoed through the corridors outside the room.

They all turned to look at the doorway as the sound of an agitated, screaming girl filled their ears.

“Get your hands off of me!” The girl shouted with anger, shadows dancing on the ground as they grew closer to the entrance.

Lazarus saw the way Frieda’s skin grew pale, her breathing growing rapid as her lips trembled with word, “Marcia?”

The next instant, Lazarus watched as a girl, not much younger than himself, was pushed into the room.

He rather assumed that she had been pushed by the guards out of protection to their ears rather than in any violent gesture.

After gaining her balance, the girl straightened herself up and brushed the blond hair from her face.

As she did so, Lazarus looked upon the face of the girl he had met when they were younger.

He had been five and she three; her hair was the same colour as the sand and her eyes remained the same colour as the night sky in the summer before it turned dark.

“Marcia!” Frieda and Diomed ran to their daughter, clutching her shoulders, “What are you doing here!?”

“My guards captured her following you,” Octavia sighed with the boredom of their family issues, “You may take her with you when you leave.”

Krista and Frieda narrowed their eyes at Octavia’s words; she allowed a mother to take her own daughter.

But as Krista watched her step around her desk, she noticed the change in her expression. Her smile left her lips and her eyes grew wide when she saw the document she had left exposed on her desk.

Lifting her head to scan the room, to see if anybody had noticed her mistake, Octavia came face to face with Krista.

This time it was Krista’s turn to smile.

* * *

“Is there a chance she saw it?” Alexander asked although he already knew the answer.

Octavia laughed as she held her robe tightly around her waist, “This is Krista we are speaking of.”

Alexander gave a small incline of his head, allowing her that jibe whilst his eyes scanned the parchment in question.

“We cannot risk it,” Alexander placed his hands on the edge of his desk and leaned forward, contemplating their options.

“I agree,” Octavia joined him by his side, resting her hip against the table, “What do we do?”

Alexander stepped in front of her, his hands resting on her shoulders as his fingers began to tug the silk robe from her body, “What would you suggest, Commander?”

Octavia felt her eyelids grow heavy when she felt his smooth finger tips skim over her collarbone, “I can send a patrol out to locate them. They won’t have made it very far.”

“Mmm,” Alexander raised his head and captured her lips with his, the robe falling to the floor around her ankles, “Order them to hide their uniforms. No one can know that it was us who killed them.”

“Yes, my Senator.” Octavia gave a small moan as he recaptured her lips with his, their troubles seeming to fade away for the evening.

But soon, once her soldiers had dispatched with Krista and her ilk, nothing would stand in their way.