Chapter 16

Pompeia let out a delightful sigh as she seemed to float down from whatever cloud she had been occupying and found Artorius slipping from between the sheets.

It seemed everything Pompeia had been working for was going according to plan and she managed to have her own personal Gladiator as well.

The other women commented to Pompeia about the new glow she seemed to radiate, eagerly asking for her secret.

Pompeia wasn’t about to tell them that it was a six-foot-three, black haired brute with a body that rivalled Mars himself.

Her limbs were slowly becoming more stable as she slid behind Artorius sitting on the edge of the bed, the silk covers wrapped around his waist.

The torches above her bed were burning low but in the deep hue of the flames, Pompeia could still make out the lashes that scarred his back and the new injury that ran across his left shoulder from the day's fighting.

It was barely a few inches long but the skin looked angry and red as it bulged around the wound.

Pompeia reached out her hand and trailed her finger tips over the wound, mesmerised by the way a sword had actually cut into his flesh, cutting through muscle and drawing blood. It fascinated Pompeia.

She could see in her mind's eye how it had been gushing with blood down his back. She could remember the way he had spun around in the sands, hurtling his sword up through the bottom of his opponent's jaw in retaliation.

The crowd had become zealous as Pompeia had learnt of yet another way to kill a man.

The blade had gone in through his lower jaw and shattered out the top of his skull, the man still alive enough to choke on his own blood before he fell to his knees.

“Don’t.” Artorius snapped in that rough peasant voice.

Not looking up, Artorius reached behind him and caught her hand in a vice-like grip before it could touch his flesh again.

His grip on her started to hurt as his body seemed to shake with anger, and Pompeia realised that he still held feelings for Krista.

Pompeia pulled her hand away as her face straightened in malice.

“Remember Artorius,” Pompeia spoke in hushed tones, not allowing such a basic animal to believe he held any power over her, “If you disobey me you know who shall pay the price for your actions.”

A second later, Artorius stormed to his feet, leaving her side as he always did after their liasions.

Even Pompeia knew the risk of him being found in her private bed chambers.

But in those last few moments she could enjoy the view of watching him get dressed, her eyes travelling past his thick calves and the muscles that quivered around his thighs before soaking in the perfect roundness of his derrière.

His skin was coloured bronze from the sun and the many scars that now covered his back made him appear fearless and immense.

Pompeia found herself staring long after he had had dressed and started to walk from her room, not a single syllable uttered in her direction.

“I shall see you soon, lover,” Pompeia stepped from bed, smirking as she saw him freeze for a moment, her words torturing him before he stepped from the room, returning to his room at Ludus Magnus.

“Now then,” Pompeia sighed as she covered her well-pleasured body with her dress, wondering what she should do next.

“Empress?” A small squeak sounded from across the room and Pompeia turned towards the intrusive slave, trembling with fear.

“What is it?” Pompeia sighed in annoyance.

“Senator Icoras is here, Empress,” The slave girl informed Pompeia, her eyes searching the floor for an answer.

Pompeia froze as she heard the news.

Her newest ally was currently standing outside in the middle of the night waiting to speak with her.

What was he doing here at this hour?

“Bring him in,” Pompeia exclaimed with rage as she fastened the last knot on her intricate ruby red dress and stormed across the room to greet the Senator.

An older man with blonde hair curled at the ends and eyes that hinted of a shallow personality.

“I apologise for such a call at this late hour,” Icoras bowed his head and Pompeia had enough control over her anger to wait until her pitiful slave had left their presence.

“What is the meaning of this?” Pompeia asked, “The palace has eyes everywhere, what shall people think if they saw you in my bedchamber at this hour, Gamekeeper?”

“I apologise profusely,” the Gamekeeper bowed again but his bowing did not help her situation.

Her plan relied on secrecy and surprise and Icoras, Keeper of the Games, was risking that.

“But I feared such news could not wait,” Icoras, with his thin figure was speaking fast as he worked to keep his head attached to his shoulders.

“Speak then!” Pompeia sighed with annoyance as her curiosity heightened and he did not utter a word.

“It is the Gladiatrix you were asking me about, Empress, Krista.”

“Yes?” Pompeia took a step forward.

“I was fixing her matches as you ordered-”

Pompeia raised an eyebrow.

“-As you requested," Icoras backtracked, "which I was only too happy to oblige with when I discovered that she had been chosen by Senator Marcus to be involved in the Amazon battle tomorrow.”

Pompeia’s mood was becoming darker as more words left his mouth.

Before he had finished his sentence, Pompeia had turned and threw the wine canter from the table across the room in a rage.

Pompeia’s breathing was rising and falling rapidly as she tried to think of how to salvage the situation.

She could not permit Krista to be involved in the reinactment. No slaves ever won against the might of Rome.

* * *

“Artorius! Artorius!” Krista shouted his name in anger as she was pulled through the tunnels under the arena.

He had not spoken to her for almost two days and had avoided her as best as he could.

But as he was locked in his cell, yet to walk out onto the sands for the fourth day of the Games, he could not avoid her.

However it seemed the guard in front of her, pulling on the chains around her wrists, was late for something.

And she barely saw Artorius for a flashing moment, his eyes downcast on the floor, but she knew he had heard her.

“You don’t need to drag me.” Krista exclaimed as she curled her fingers around the chains and wrenched them back, catching the guard off balance.

She had been here long enough that she knew the arena like the back of her hand.

The guard didn’t challenge her but as he unlocked her shackles, he hurled her towards the gates.

Krista narrowed her eyes at him as she watched him step back in line beside her, when she caught sight of someone behind her.

Krista groaned when she saw who it was.

It was Rheia, being brought up with two other women from Ludus Magnus.

Krista recognised the girl on the far right. Her light brown hair stuck out like straw as she had severed it with a dagger a few days earlier, its ragged ends uneven as it framed her wide jaw and doe-like eyes.

Krista thought she was called Aveon when she turned to look at Rheia.

Her warm caramel skin seemed to glow and her hair, black as a raven’s feather, had been braided back and tied into a singly ponytail, letting the mass of her hair fall in one thick mane down her back.

“Our first battle,” Krista smirked as she turned back to the gates as Rheia stepped up beside her, remembering the way that the Roman’s liked to replay famous battles in the arena.

It also had the added bonus of killing many gladiators at once and raising the morale of the countrymen.

“I wonder who we’ll be cast as,” Rheia's voicd dripped with sarcasm, sharing Krista’s humour when their gender told them exactly who they would be portraying.

Krista turned to look at the final Gladiatrix who had been escorted with Rheia and Aveon.

“As long as it’s not the fucking Romans," the woman stood hissed, spitting at the guards feet.

A soldier took a menacing step forward, his fingers grasping the sword at his hip,  but was quickly ordered back in line.

Krista did not hold any love for the Roman soldiers either but she could never forget that she was a Roman herself.

Obviously this five foot seven, blonde haired and crazy-eyed girl wasn’t.  Her figure was nearly as slim as Rheia’s but there were muscles in her arms and her straight hair ran just past her shoulders.

“Who are you?” Rheia frowned at the girl, obviously shocked she had survived so long.

“Frieda,” She spoke with pride, jumping about on her toes as she prepared for battle, chain mail jingling as her taut stomach was exposed beneath a strapped leather breast covering.

“Where do you hail from?” Krista asked as the drums started, Frieda’s accent sounding different to her ears.

“Britannia.” The girl stood tall, surprising Krista who had heard rumours of such a land.

None of them spoke again as the gates were opened and light flooded upon them, each preparing themselves for the fight ahead.

Krista looked upon the arena and saw that it hadn’t changed since she was there yesterday except for the number of participants.

As they all walked forward, stepping out from under their tunnels and into the harsh sun, another gate at the other end of the arena opened to reveal a further four slave women.

Krista risked a glance up at the Royal box to see that Pompeia no longer held that confident smirk to her lips. 

Something about the way Pompeia’s eyes were fixed intently on Krista made her feel uneasy and it was only when Krista noticed the archers stood upon the walls of the arena did that unease quickly solidify in her stomach.

Krista realised that this match would be different.

“Fellow Romans!” The auditor rose to his feet, announcing the new torture game to the crowd, “I bring you, for your pleasure, the Battle of Pontus!”

Krista and the others had now gathered in the centre of the arena beneath the royal box as the auditor set the scene.

“Captured by Pompeius Magnus," the auditor's voice sang out like a lullaby, entrancing the masses into silence as he recalled their history, twisted for his own purpose, “the Amazon Queen and her harlots-”

Krista and the others shared a look as he called female warriors ‘harlots’. Many of them had idolised Amazons for their fierce ways.

“-are caught in a battle for supremacy,” His voice grew louder and Krista could tell he was drawing to the close of his speech, “And for glory!”

As he screamed his final syllable, the crowds jumping to their feet in excitement, swords and shields were thrown into the sand at their feet just as gates all around the arena were opened.

Startled by the simultaneous opening, Krista glanced over her shoulder to see four golden chariots, each pulled by a pair of horses, being charged out into the arena with two men per a chariot.

Making a tour of the arena, presenting themselves to the crowds, the Romans provided Krista and the others with a small amount of time to collect themselves.

Grabbing the swords and shields that lay at their feet, they turned and followed the course of these golden chariots, anticipating the moment when they would charge towards them.

Krista spotted the variety of weapons held by the Romans. Some possessed crossbows whilst others carried spears.

Overwhelmed by the sheer size of these storming chariots, Krista knew that they would all be dead within seconds.

Hearing Lazarus’s voice in her mind she knew what she had to do. Krista knew she was not going to like it but it was the only way they were surviving this battle of Pontus.

“Listen to me,” Krista spared a glance over her shoulder at Rheia, who she guessed would put up the most resistance, “We need to work together!”

The chariots were drawing closer, blocking them in as they continued to circle the arena.

“If we work together,” Krista shouted over the cheering of the crowd, “We can beat them!”

No one responded when a chariot suddenly broke from the formation and charged directly at them.

The sound of stampeding horses filled her ears as her eyes soaked in the image of the roman soldier, dressed in the auxiliary uniform, aiming his spear directly at them.

The ground shook beneath them as Krista watched the soldier take aim, forever hurtling towards them.

Grabbing Rheia who was directly in his path, Krista pulled them both off to the side, crashing into the sand on their stomachs as they dived for cover.

Spinning onto her back, Krista watches the spear leave his grip and sail through the air.

The thick spear impaled itself through Aveon’s stomach and into the sand behind her, forcing her body to lean backwards on the spear.

Krista and Rheia saw the blood bubbling from her lips as she tried to speak but soon her body turned limp and the sword dropped from her dead fingers.

Krista looked back at the chariot driver, his stout face obscured by the helmet that rested upon his head and she imagined sinking her sword into his gut.

Charging to her feet as a thick-necked woman grabbed Aveon’s sword, Krista rallied the Gladriatrixes.

“Shields!” Krista shouted at the women as they formed a circle, their shields facing outwards as they protected their backs.

Angered by their obvious show of strategy the chariots took it in turns to hurtle towards them.

As another chariot charged past, Krista rapidly tried to think of how to stay alive and win this battle.

Krista already knew that, all those years ago in the real Battle of Pontus, the Romans had conquered the Amazons.

And Krista knew, against her wishes, that history often repeated itself.