Chapter 24 

Krista was in a state of shock as she was dragged through the palace and down towards the dungeon.

The scene kept replaying in her head, immobilising her body with shock. She saw Pompeia, with a face twisted in anger, stabbing her brother through his tunic, his blood soaking them both in red.

And now Krista was being blamed for his death, the way Pompeia had planned.

Pompeia had set her up.

This had been her goal all the while, she had recruited Krista to take the blame for something she had not done.

And as this realisation began to sink in, it felt like she had been dumped in a frozen lake.

Her body struggled until she was standing, her eyes absorbing everything in around her, assessing where she was and what was happening. 

Finding herself outside in the courtyard, Krista realised that this was going to be the last fresh air she would breath before she would be executed for a crime she did not commit.

Krista will die, and Pompeia will triumph.

Anger simmered in her chest and Krista felt doomed to only feel anger for the rest of her existence, was Artorius right about her?

Was Krista incapable of feeling anything but anger and pain? 

Krista did not know but this was not the time to question herself.

Frantically looking around for an escape, she had survived too long to be killed for something she did not do.

There were only a handful of slaves in the courtyard as they went about their jobs, their eyes glued to the ground, too afraid to look at her.

None of these house servants would pose her a threat and as she was dragged closer to the doorway, Krista knew she had to make her move.

Surrounded by guards, two in front and two behind, with her hands bound in front of her, Krista glanced at the sword bouncing against the soldier’s thigh closest to her, and knew that this was her chance.

Barely ten feet from the door that would carry her down into a cage, Krista struck and kicked the guard in the knee behind her.

The guard was surprised, leaning off balance, before Krista quickly spun and thrashed her bound fists into his face.

Her strike knocked the solider into his colleague, the pair crumpling to the floor under his weight.

As the last two guards turned to see the commotion, Krista raised her leg again and booted the man square in the chest.

The third guard toppled to the ground as the last soldier drew his sword, shouting at her to stop.

But Krista had never taken orders very well and she wasn’t about to start now.

With her hands useless, Krista knocked the tip of her boot against the botttom of his clasped hands.

The brunt of her boot against his fingers forced him to release his sword as it hurtled into the air leaving him defenceless.

Without hesitating, Krista swung her bound hands over his head, squeezing his neck tightly before he fell unconsious in her grip.

The sword clattered to the ground behind her as she laid the man on the ground, but she wasn’t interested in the sword, not yet.

Bending down by his unconscious body, Krista whipped the dagger from his boot and cut the rope around her wrists.

Turning on the heel of her boots, still crouched on the ground, she heard soft grunts reach her ears and when she looked she saw that the others guards were slowly getting to their feet behind her.

Rushing to stand up, Krista hurried over and a sent a swift kick into the side of the guard's head, knocking him unconsious until he fell back atop his friend, holding them both immobile against the cobbles.

Swiping the sword from the ground, Krista heard doors being thrown open behind her as reinforcements began to arrive.

Clasping the dagger in her other hand, Krista glanced at the twelve foot wall that encompassed the entire courtyard.

Looking for anything to aid her, Krista spotted a heap of unwanted furniture piled up against the wall.

A quick glance over her shoulder saw that the reinforcements were mere seconds away.

Taking a short run up to the furniture, Krista ignored the shocked faces of her fellow slaves, and jumped up onto an unloved chaise.

The soft furnishing dipped slightly under the strain of her weight, before she bent her knees and vaulted over the wall.

Acting as a propeller, the chaise gave her enough of a push to sail over the top of the wall and down the other side.

Twirling through the air, Krista landed on her feet on a street outside the palace.

Looking around her, Krista saw a few people watching her, shocked by what they had seen.

Sending them a reassuring smile, Krista lowered the sword in her hand and merged into the crowds, no one paying her any attention.

“Get the rope!” An authorative voice shouted behind her from the courtyard, snapping Krista back into action as she hurried through the crowds.

Turning her back on the palace, Krista could not comprehend that she was walking upon free ground when she was anything but a free woman.

* * *

Not trusting herself to stop, Krista kept moving through the city as night started to descend.

From the towers of Ludus Magnus, Krista remembered that the capital had looked marvellous with the sun illuminating the warm brick and bustling crowds. 

But now that she was a part of those crowds it no longer felt marvellous but cramped.

She could not walk two steps without someone bumping into her, a the smell of urine and faeces, man and beast alike, filled her nostrils, threatening to choke her.

But the crowds this evening were different, their paces were rushed and their conversations were frantic as news of the Emperor’s death started to leak from the palace.

It would not be long before Pompeia realised Krista had escaped and she had appealed to the people to find her.

And once she did that, all eyes would turn on her; the woman dressed in gladiatorial armour with blood on her hands.

She needed to find shelter for the night but even now the gates to the city were guarded, they would notice her instantly.

She was trapped inside Rome.

“You take that alley,” A commanding voice shouted above the whispers of the crowd causing Krista to glance over her shoulder to see a patrol of guards ransacking the street she occupied.

People screamed as they barged into their homes unannounced and started to rummage through their belongings without explanation.

They would be upon her in a matter of minutes.

Krista turned from the guards and hurried down the street, caught in the sea of people.

Keeping her head low, Krista could already feel the eyes starting to watch her longer than a casual interest would permit.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she gripped the dagger in her grip.

Krista had dropped the sword a few streets back, knowing that it would only draw her more attention than she could risk.

It had been a tough decision, if she was caught by the Romans she would not be able to defend herself, but she knew there was a higher risk of being caught if she kept the sword.

Compromising, Krista held onto the dagger. The same dagger she was now gripping tighter when she found an opening between the houses.

Slipping through, Krista wedged herself down the tight alleyway as night began to fully descend, obscuring the obstacles that lay in front of her.

Keeping her eyes forward, Krista started to panic as her feet continured to pick up the pace until she was nearly running down the alleyway.

The high walls were beginning to grow narrower, her body feeling trapped, when she glanced over her shoulder as spotted a torch at the opening of the alley.

The glowing hue that surrounded the flames, illuminated the face of a soldier as he seemed to peer down the alley.

Krista held her breath as she pressed her back against the wall, knowing it was futile but unable to move at the same time.

She was sure that he had seen her, but his eyes kept flickering across the gaps, searching the darkness, until his commander called him away.

Remaining there for a little while longer, Krista watched the opening of the alleyway until she saw the entire patrol pass her down the street, their attention focused on something in the next street over.

Allowing herself to breathe once again, Krista wondered whether to continue on down the alley or to turn back.

Taking a moment to settle herself, Krista forced herself to think strategically and come up with the best plan that would ensure her survival.

Hoping she was right, she turned back and emerged out onto the street the soldiers had previously occupied, her eyes watching the bundle of torches hurry off in the distance.

Heading in the opposite direction, Krista traced her steps back up the slight incline and searched for a place to rest her head for the night.

The sightings of the guards had scared families back into their houses, the streets growing emptier as Krista searched the steet, looking for a house that was abandoned.

And then she found one; the brick looked as if it had been scorched by a great fire with its wooden shutters ripped from the walls.

Slipping in through the door, that was held on by a single hinge, Krista tried to keep her presence there as quiet as possible as she softly treaded through the house that had once been owned by a family.

Spotting a square plank of wood resting against the floor, Krista investigated to find a wine cellar that had been ransacked by the guards and thieves before it.

The guards had already checked here, Krista thought, they would not check again.

Not soon anyway, and Krista resigned to lowering herself into the cellar.

It was barely five feet tall, causing Krista to crouch as she reached up and pulled the trap door shut above her head, setting her in complete darkness.

The claustrophobic nature of the cellar made Krista’s skin tingle with unease, she did not like being trapped and she knew that if the guards came back she had no way of escaping.

Did she leave and hope to find somewhere more secure or did she remain where she was and get some rest?

Krista was in a dilemma but she knew that the guards were out there. She had struck lucky in the alleyway but she could not tempt fate.

Afterall, Krista thought, neither fate nor luck were on her side.

Resigning herself to the cellar, Krista found her way to the corner and sat on the cold floor.

Resting her head back against the stone, she tried to ignore the musty smell of smoke and rot as she shut her eyes for a few minutes.

Once she had regained her equilibrium, she opened her eyes once again and secured the dagger beneath her belt.

Rubbing her sore wrists, Krista tried to gain some sleep but she was too angry. She was angry with Pompeia but more than that, she was angry with herself.

She had idiotically thought that Pompeia would grant her her freedom after the Games, but all she wanted was a patsy for her brother’s murder.

That’s why the guards had stayed behind when they had taken her to see the Empress, that’s why Pompeia had kept Krista alive in the arena.

She needed Krista to take the fall and what better motive than a gladiator that blamed the Emperor for everything that had happened to her.

But it wasn’t the Emperor, it was the Commander that had set Krista on this path.

And Pompeia now had what she wanted. She is Empress of Rome, no longer having to share power with her brother.

Krista felt sorry for Titus to have had a sister such as Pompeia, a woman ruled only by greed.

And for the first time in a while Krista prayed to the Gods. She prayed that if she failed in the coming days, that they would punish Pompeia in her absence. 

Pompeia had many crimes, but there was only one that Krista would see her, and the commander, pay for with their lives, and that was the killing of Krista’s family.

* * *

Pompeia stood before her brother’s body, now washed and set out in his best tunic, and simply gazed at him.

His skin had turned a ghostly white and the gold laurels were nestled upon his dull hair.

“So here we are, dear brother” Pompeia reached out and brushed a tendril of hair from his face, leaning in close until she mere inches above him, “I would wager you thought your sweet, innocent sister incapable of such a thing as murder.”

Pompeia smiled when he could not reply, “I shall show you how to govern an Empire,” She chuckled, “And I shall reign for years whilst you barely reigned for two.”

“Empress,” A voice spoke softly with mourning as the torches burned low around them.

Pompeia forced tears to wash her eyes as she was interrupted. She would be glad when she could finish her mourning period.

She was sad that her brother was gone, she would have liked to rule with him by her side but she knew that it was inevitable.

He would never allow such a thing and they could never agree, even in death.

Turning from her brother, Pompeia picked up her black veil and let it fall in front of her face once again before she saw who interrupted her, “Senator.”

“The Consuls are waiting for you,” the Senator bowed his head as he imparted the message.

“Gratitude,” Pompeia turned back to her brother, playing on her grief, before she turned and headed for the emergency senate meeting that would now deem her fate.

Only the two Consuls, head of the senate and commander of the armies, had the right to name her Empress despite her blood relation with her brother.

Since Titus had failed to father any children the Roman Empire will transfer to her to rule until she bore an heir.

Which, Pompeia knew was her duty but she would draw out that task for as long as possible.

When she reached the hall, a hundred senators had gathered.

Many of their faces showed mock sympathy for her brother whilst others openly grieved his passing; those were the ones Pompeia would have to win over when she came to power.

“Consul Germanus, Consul Otho,” Pompeia curtseyed to the leaders of the senate.

“My dear,” Otho reached out and took her hand in his, his baby face expanding out from the sides as the skin beneath his chin wobbled, “The passing of the Emperor has saddened us all.”

“He did not pass, Consul,” Pompeia kept the veil in front of her face in mourning, “He was assassinated by the Gladiatrix Krista.”

The senate was immediately engulfed in whispers as Pompeia called out his murderer.

“That is a matter for another senate,” Consul Germanus stepped in, his white hair thick and his face formidable, as he controlled the commotion.

Pompeia knew that he would not buy her story without strict evidence.

Germanus continued, "This Senate has been called because the empire needs a leader.”

Pompeia bowed her head, knowing when not to speak. 

“And as your brother had not yet taken a wife,” Otho stepped in, “We were thinking you could fill the role."

Pompeia plastered a mock expression of shock to her face as she raised her head and glanced between the two Consuls.

“I am aware of the size of the task that we place on your shoulders but you are the only one able to bear it,” Consul Otho clasped his hands in front of him, resting them atop his broad stomach.

“For the sake of the Empire,” Germanus persuaded her, watching her closely.

Pompeia nodded her head slowly, biting her lower lip to keep from smiling in happiness, “For the sake of the Empire and in memory of my brother.”

Pompeia’s hands were clasped once again by Germanus as he kissed her hand.

“Empress of Rome,” Germanus and Otho bowed before her as the rest of the senate followed their actions until a hundred men were bowing to her, repeating her new title.

Pompeia looked out over the men with a sense of higher power and realised that this had been destined.

The Gods wanted her to rule.