Chapter 20 

Artorius stood and watched the door.

It was a good door made from solid oak and performed it’s job as well as any other door might, but it was what lay beyond the door that troubled Artorius.

For behind that thick oak door lay the stairs to the dungeon, in which Artorius had previously been a resident.

But as of last night those iron bars now caged a new prisoner; Krista.

She had been dragged from beneath the arena by armed guards, taken inside and has not been seen of since.

Pompeia’s words repeated in his mind, threatening to drive him mad; Trust me when I say that what I can have done to her, she’ll be begging for death.

Was Krista begging behind those walls? Was she screaming?

Artorius knew it would take a lot to make Krista beg for anything but he feared for her.

He could see her face when she laid her eyes upon him with Pompeia. He saw it more than any other time he had seen her face.

Not when he first saw her with the tiger at Danghmar, when she had appeared so compassionate and calm, not when he found her in front of Minerva’s statute, and not when they had kissed for the first time.

It was the look of betrayal in her eyes that haunted his dreams.

She would not speak to him or allow him to explain, and then she threw a trident at the Empress’s head.

It was as if Krista was begging to be killed and yet Artorius thought he knew her better than that.

She had so desperately wanted to win the games, why would she risk it all for him?

“I would not risk being here when she emerges,” Lazarus walked up beside Artorius, the door laying heavily on both their minds.

Artorius looked out of the corner of his eye at Lazarus; his face was relaxed as he gazed upon the door without any hint of concern etched upon his brow.

“What if she does not emerge?” Artorius swallowed around the lump in his throat; had he sent Krista to her death when all he was trying to do was protect her?

“I would not worry,” Lazarus spoke with wisdom, “Krista has been through too much to be broken by a few Roman fists.”

“You say that as if she were invincible,” Artorius was growing restless, his fingers curling into a fist by his side, “If she has been through too much then truly she could not take much more.”

“You doubt her,” Lazarus turned towards Artorius, his face showing concern for Artorius rather than his friend, “Krista is Antianeirai.”

“She fights like a man,” Artorius translated the words, “But she is not a man.” He reminded Lazarus.

“I see a lot more at the end of my sword than simply the destination it shall take,” Lazarus spoke cryptically.

Artorius began to worry, what else had this man seen?

“And I know that you will not win Krista by trying to protect her,” Lazarus would not give away what he knew but something told Artorius that he knew much.

Artorius frowned at Lazarus; how else was he supposed to keep her safe?

“Listen to the crowds,” Lazarus instructed Artorius, “They scream and shout Krista’s name. They would love her if she only let them.”

“You speak in riddles,” Artorius shook his head; the crowds were not yet in the arena and Krista was hidden from his sight.

“Do you think they love her because somebody protects her?” Lazarus snapped, his eyes turning back to the door as his own worries threatened to break free, “They love her because she is Antianeirai; she fights like a man. And do men want protecting?”

Artorius took a deep breath as he took in Lazarus’s lesson.

“Krista is proud,” Lazarus chuckled, “She was proud as a child and she is proud as a Gladiatrix. She does not want someone to fight in front of her she wants someone to fight by her side.”

Artorius nodded his head slowly as he began to grasp this woman’s complicated nature.

“This does not help with the current predicament,” Artorius turned his gaze back towards the door.

“No,” Lazarus sighed with sadness as he could imagine the pain Krista was bearing herself through, “But she shall come back from this, as she comes back from everything, and she will need you to be there when she does.”

Artorius blinked at Lazarus, something in his voice sounded wrong as if he was a seer foretelling something terrible.

“They will seek to punish her for what she did,” Lazarus couldn’t tear his eyes from the door as he imagined Krista behind it, trying to smile with pride at the strong woman he had raised.

“What do you speak of? They are punishing her now for trying to kill the Empress,” Artorius grew concerned at the look upon Lazarus’s face.

“Does Krista strike you as the kind of woman to miss her target?” Lazarus forced himself to look at Artorius, a smile upon his lips as he tried to impart as much wisdom as possible before he left for the arena.

Knowing he shall not return.

“If Krista wanted to kill the Empress,” Lazarus sighed, “She would have done so.”

Artorius did not know what to think as Lazarus turned and walked away, leaving him to watch the door alone until he too was pulled towards the arena.

*  * *

Blood pooled in her mouth, coating her tongue and teeth in its salty red liquid.

Spitting the liquid at the ground mere inches from where her captor’s feet lay, it only incurred a further round of beatings as she hung from the ceiling, once again shackled by iron.

Every time a fist connected with her flesh, Krista just remembered the look upon Pompeia’s face as that trident came hurtling towards her.

The torches were beginning to dwindle, setting the dungeon around them in darkness, as the muffled roar of the arena filtered down to her.

Krista suddenly realised that the sun had risen and the games were beginning.

And for the first time since it happened Krista was starting to regret her actions when the sudden sound of a heavy door opening enveloped her ears.

Trying to peer through the thick cloud of darkness, Krista barely recognised the outline of a solider as his boots thumped against the stone in a hurry to reach them.

“Bring her!” A voice barked.

Krista frowned in confusion as the chains around her wrist were released, her arms giving a sigh of relief, and she was escorted from the dungeon.

The light assaulted her eyes as she stepped through the door and was rushed through Ludus Magnus. 

The screams of gladiators and the growls of animals reached her ears with more clarity as she grew closer to the Florian Amphitheatre, which had quickly become known as the Colosseum.

Recognising the bowels of the arena, Krista was quickly hurried past the cells and towards a set of stairs set in the background that no one would notice unless they knew where to look.

Shrouded in darkness, Krista was pushed up the steps and through a connecting corridors before she was suddenly drenched in sunlight.

It took a few seconds for her to gain her bearings as her lungs inhaled clean air.

Her eyes squinted up at the blue sky above her before she looked down and saw the arena.

The immense noise of fifty thousand people crushed her ears as she gazed upon a Bestiarii, armed with a spear, battling a lion thrice his size.

“Move,” A guard jabbed her in her back, pushing her forward but Krista did not care as she was overwhelmed with the sudden change of perspective.

This was how they saw her, Krista realised as her gaze travelled over the thousands of people above her, not even noticing that she stood barely four feet from them.

Just above the high walls that encompassed the arena stood a walkway that encircled the entire expanse, and as Krista was pushed further along it she suddenly saw where she was being led; the Royal box.

It jutted out from the stands like an extravagant building with secure walls and fresh linen shielding its occupants from the raging sun.

Krista’s amazement of where she was suddenly became overshadowed with a deep feeling of rage as the curtain was pulled back and the Empress stepped through just as the crowd roared around them. 

Krista glanced down at the arena to see that the lion had gotten his jaws clamped around the Gladiator’s neck and was beginning to tear at his flesh, the man's blood spraying upon the sands.

Turning back to the Empress, Krista narrowed her eyes at Pompeia.

Her blond ringlets fell softly over her shoulders, the fabric of her pale blue silk dress held so delicately in her hands it looked as if the silk alone would chafe her skin.

Krista could not imagine that a woman who looked so beautiful had the mind to do such wrong, and yet that was what she wanted everybody to think.

“Leave us,” Pompeia ordered the guards before she turned back to Krista and the smile that was etched upon her lips had vanished.

Although, she seemed pleased by the wounds inflicted upon Krista’s body.

“I must amend you for your courage,” Pompeia told Krista, “Not many would risk such a bold move.”

Krista did not speak as she was once again face to face with the woman that had manipulated Artorius into sharing her bed.

“Sadly, it seems that that courage has been whisked from your body as you cannot utter a single word in reply,” Pompeia sighed, “Do you need to be a hundred feet from me to act?” Pompeia smirked.

“Do you need to manipulate things to make yourself feel powerful?” Krista replied, arching an eyebrow as she mimicked the Empress, “Or did you force Artorius to make sure you inflicted the right level of pain?”

“So he told you,” Pompeia remarked, turning her gaze to look at the arena where the lion was being reigned in.

Krista suddenly felt her breath leave her body. She had only been grasping at the idea but Pompeia just confirmed that she had forced Artorius into doing what he did.  

Artorius didn’t go with Pompeia willingly, and suddenly that felt like the best news in the world to Krista.

“Let’s just say that as sister to the Emperor of Rome you can grow quite lonely,” Pompeia turned back to Krista, “And yes, it seemed a good way to ensure your loyalty. I told Artorius that if he wished to see you remain unharmed he was to do as I wished.”

Krista gritted her teeth in anger.

“And he carried out my wishes,” Pompeia smiled at Krista with pleasure at toying with her, “with amazing dexterity and determination. He must care about you very much.”

Krista’s anger flared and hit out in the only way she knew to hurt Pompeia, “I no longer care for our deal,” Krista informed the Empress, “Find someone else.”

Pompeia lost her smile as she grew angered by Krista’s words.

“I would consider very, very, carefully what you are saying,” Pompeia ordered Krista just as the gong sounded in the arena to announce a new game had begun.

“Do you forget that I saved your life in this very arena? You would not be stood where you are if it was not for me,” Pompeia reminded Krista.

The memory only made Krista more determined, “In that aspect you are correct, if it wasn’t for you,” Krista stepped forward, gazing into Pompeia’s blue eyes with anger, “I wouldn’t be stood here, and many others would not have been hurt.”

Pompeia let out a twisted laugh, “Do not presume to care for other people now Krista, the reluctant gladiator of Rome. You would do anything to get what you want.”

Krista looked away for a second.

“And in this aspect,” Pompeia chuckled, using her same words, “We are the same.”

Krista snapped her head back up to look at the Empress; their eyes clashing as Krista vowed she would never be like her.

“For you it is your freedom, but freedom is not easily granted,” Pompeia told her defiantly, her arm arching out towards the arena.

Following her direction, Krista looked down at the sands to see Lazarus, armed with his Thracian sword and shield, stood in the sands with half a dozen other gladiators circled around him.

Krista’s eyes grew wide as she waited for his allies to hurry to his aid as he took a harsh beating but she was quickly learning that he had no allies in this games.

“Six against one!?” Krista shouted at Pompeia as panic and anger flooded her chest.

Krista watched in agony as a sword slashed through the skin on Lazarus’s back, the crowd roaring with happiness as blood was spilt.

“You left me no choice.” Pompeia told Krista darkly, making herself appear the victim.

Krista could not tear her eyes away from Lazarus, her gut wrenching in two as she knew she was to blame for this. Pompeia was punishing Krista for throwing the trident.

“What would you have me do?” Krista shouted at Pompeia in fear for Lazarus; he would die down there if she didn’t help him.

“I would have you keep to our plan,” Pompeia told Krista knowing that time was running short as Lazarus gained the advantage, cutting through two of his adversaries with one swipe of his sword, their heads rolling in the sand.

Krista gritted her teeth as she was torn in two, her head snapping between Lazarus and Pompeia in confusion.

Krista held out hope that Lazarus may yet win.

Gripping the side of the wall, Krista watched Lazarus battle three men at once; his sword striking true as he disembowelled one man only to receive a dagger to the back of his thigh by another.

“I shall not be able to save him in a minute,” Pompeia urged Krista, “You must make your decision.”

Krista watched her oldest friend and mentor, praying to all the Gods that he would survive but the Gods had not answered her prayers in a long time, and as more of his good blood began to fill the arena Krista knew she had no choice.

If she wanted Lazarus to live then she must do what Pompeia wanted.

“Yes!” Krista shouted as she suddenly envisioned life without Lazarus and found it impossible to imagine, “Yes, I'll do it! Now, make them stop.”

Krista turned and gazed at Pompeia’s face as a smile spread onto her lips, knowing she had won.

“Pompeia!” Krista shouted, “Call them off!”

But as Krista gazed into those shallow blue depths all she saw was malice and a greed for pain.

“You did this, Krista,” Pompeia haunted her, “The moment you picked up that trident, you sentenced that man to his death.”

"No," Krista’s chest started to cave in as she realised what Pompeia was doing.

“You have the power to make Emperors rise and fall,” Pompeia spoke softly, “But you also have the power to make those around you fall to their deaths.”

Krista lifted her head and glared at Pompeia, both of them knowing that Krista could kill her where she stood. But they also knew that she wouldn’t.

A sudden guttural cry filled Krista’s ears, making the hairs on her arms stand on end.

Looking back at Lazarus, Krista watched her dear friend run his sword through one man’s neck only to receive a mass of cuts to his body by the other three that remained circling him.

Their swords cut into his flesh as he struggled to fight them off.

Krista’s heart stopped beating as she watched the third man, poised behind Lazarus with his blade raised in the air, ready to strike him dead.

“NO!” Krista screamed as she gripped the side of the wall and threw herself over.

The fall to the ground seem never ending as the wind grappled around her body, but she was soon crashing into the sands, her legs weak beneath her as she crumpled to the floor on her stomach.

Sand filled her mouth as she lifted her head and looked towards Lazarus. 

Her body let out a sigh of relief when she saw that he was still alive, the other gladiator on the ground with blood pouring from his neck. 

But as Krista rose to her feet she realised that Lazarus was tiring. He could not keep fighting for much longer as she saw the sweat mingling with his blood, his movements growing slack and weak.

“No,” Krista told herself, she would not let him be killed.

Racing through the sands as the crowd grew wild at her sudden entrance, Krista came up behind the Samnite.

“Hey!” Krista distracted the gladiator, as he held his spear ready to deliver the final blow to Lazarus.

Shocked to find her there, the Samnite, took a moment to gather himself but it was all Krista needed to send her fist into the side of his jaw, knocking the helmet from his head.

Booting him in the back of his knee, the Samnite crumpled into the sand until he rested on one knee alone.

Rising his spear, ready to strike her down, Krista quickly gripped the spear with both hands and wrenched it from his grasp.

Spinning the spear in her hand, Krista sent the spike into the man’s throat, making him choke on his own blood.

Looking over to Lazarus, Krista froze.

Her oldest friend was knelt in the sand, his eyes staring at the sword that was protruding from his chest.

The gladiator stood over Lazarus watched Krista with a smile on his lips.

Pure, unadulterated rage and pain overcame her. Screaming in agony, Krista ripped the spear from the Samnite's throat and hurled it at Lazarus’s attacker.

Krista stopped breathing as she watched the spear tear through the gladiator's breastplate and sink itself into his chest, piercing his heart.

Krista watched him lose the smile on his lips before he collapsed to the ground. She stood for a moment, unable to move when her eyes fell upon Lazarus.

“Lazarus,” Krista raced over and collapsed by his side, her hands cradling his face. 

"Lazarus, you need to get up.” Krista begged him as the rest of the world died away and pain eclipsed her heart.

“Krista,” Lazarus gazed up at her, a soft smile on his lips as blood began to trickle down his chin, “You fought well.”

“Lazarus,” Krista held him closer as if she could cure him with just the love in her heart, “Lazarus, you can’t leave me here. You can’t,” She pleaded with him to live, tears blurring her vision.

“You’ll be fine,” Lazarus coughed, his chocolate eyes shining with tears, as he collapse to the ground.

"No!" Krista wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested his head in her lap, "Lazarus!"

"Kritsta," Lazarus whispered, no hint that he was afraid of dying as he looked up at her, “Win the crowd.”

“Wh- What?” Krista frowned, her libs trembling as tears began to flow down her cheeks.

“Win the crowd,” Lazarus’s voice was becoming slurred as he imparted one last lesson of wisdom, “Win the crowd and win your freedom.”

“Lazarus,” Krista whispered in pain as even now, on his deathbed, he was trying to help her. She did not care about her freedom right then, she only wanted him to live. 

She would endure the rest of her life in servitude if it meant having Lazarus by her side.

“My-” Lazarus lifted his calloused hand to cup her cheek, his warm blood smearing her skin, “My daughter.”

Krista covered his hand with hers and rested her head in his palm, her eyes squeezing shut.

Burning the memory of his warm skin against her cheek, “I- I love you, Lazarus.” Krista gazed upon his serene face as her heart broke.

She knew it was hurting him to stay here and no matter how much it pained her, she had to let him go.

If she could keep him here forever she would do so in a heartbeat, but she knew it was impossible.

“Go," Krista cried softly, "Go to your family,” The tears flowed freely down her cheeks unchecked, “They’re waiting for you Lazarus, go to them."

Krista would always remember the smile upon his lips as he called her ‘daughter’.

"You're free," Krista whispered as his hand against her cheek went slack and his eyes grew cold until he was finally gone.

Laying him down in the sand, Krista pressed her lips against his forehead as her heart tore inside of her chest, threatening to tear her in two.

“I’ll avenge you, Lazarus. I’ll avenge all of them.”

Still crouched beside his body, Krista lifted her gaze towards Pompeia and vowed that the Empress would die by her sword before she was gone from this world.