Chapter 7

In Ludus Magnus gladiators were separated according to their fighting styles to prevent any possible opponents from meeting each other before the games.

The Retiarii were kept away from the Dimachaeri and the Thracians were kept away from the Secutores and so on.

But, as Krista walked back to her room battered and bruised from her second training lesson with Leonidas, she observed that the same rule was not applied to the women.

Maybe, because they were all known as 'Gladiatrix' and without specific fighting styles, it would be impossible to separate them. Or maybe, it was because they thought women were less impulsive to murder before the games.

Either way, thousands of rooms had been created to host the gladiators, and gladiatrixes, that had arrived from every corner of the world for the inaugural games.

No expense, nor life, had been spared for the upcoming games, which set the stage for Titus to become a much loved Emperor of Rome, just like his father.

But the only love Krista held for any emperor of Rome was the one that was offering the winner their freedom, other than that they were all the same.

Groaning as she walked, the cool night air stinging her abrasions, Krista looked around at the various women that had been ripped from their homes and placed here for their deaths.

Everybody that came through Ludus Magnus's gates had to be tested in order to judge their talent and their rank in the arena.

It seemed the masters thought Krista held some fighting skill, as she had been placed in one of the rooms refrained only for Gladiators.

The novices, who had little to no combat experience, were left to sleep on the floor in rows, down a long corridor at the front of her room.

Krista could not believe the number of women which had been recruited but despite a dozen of reserved rooms, only four were occupied.

With three women to a room, that made twelve gladiatrixes and nearly thirty novices. Compared to the hundreds of men that occupied two thirds of the gladiator school, they were nothing but a minority.

Happy that her skill had been noticed, Krista walked past the dozens of bodies that lay crowded on the floor and walked into her own room where two other women lay asleep in their beds; Rheia and Lydia.

Ludus Magnus had provided them with blankets, food and every affordable extravagent they thought would create an unbeatable gladiator, and reward them with the most money.

All they had to do was practice the majority of the day and risk their lives in the arena when the time came.

Their room, nearly ten feet by twelve, held a single bed against each wall, leaving a small section in the centre bare.

There were no windows in their room as the open doorway allowed in all the light they needed but the air was stale, causing Krista's skin to grow uncomfortably warm, as she walked to her bed positioned along the left wall.

Blankets and pillows had been supplied but as Krista sat down, wincing from the aches that flared up across the back of her thigh, she was immediately lost in the softness of the mattress beneath her.

All she had known her entire life was the cold hardness of a floor and a thin blanket which had been owned by two slaves before her.

She had never known such luxuries as this but as she lay down, her curiosity getting the better of her, it felt like what she imagined floating on a cloud would be like.

And, not for the first time, she envied the rich people who took such things for granted.

When she won her freedom, Krista thought, closing her eyes as tiredness overcame her and the aches in her muscles seemed to ease; she would never take anything for granted again.

* * *

Krista ripped her sword out of the training post as another nine women performed the same simple task lined up in a row beside her.

Their grunts filled the immediate air around them as they continued to hack away at the seven foot cylindrical post that acted as their imaginary opponent.

Krista had been placed here by one of the trainers after lunch but she would sometimes mix up the sequence with her own favoured moves, pretending that the post was fighting back at her.

The other women merely attacked their posts, as if it was unarmed and posed no threat, which, Krista supposed, was correct.

But in the arena, they would not be facing wooden posts and whilst most women here assumed they would be killed in an instant and saw no point in fighting, Krista saw every point in fighting.

A thin layer of sweat covered her entire body as the sun beat down on her bare skin but as Krista stepped back from the post to start again, movement from behind the wooden pillar caught her eye.

Positioned at the end of the large clearing, she leaned around her post and gazed upon Artorius.

He was fighting a Dimachaeri, a man who fought with a sword in each hand, just like Artorius was fighting.

Krista turned away from them as Artorius spun in the air and kicked one of his opponent's wooden swords out of his grasp.

Images of Artorius by the Minerva statue and memories of his teasing smile made her cheeks grow warm and her blood boil.

Krista walked back ten steps before turning and hurling her sword at the post, imagining Artorius was stood before her.

The blade imbedded itself into the thick wood. Krista had to wrench the sword a few times before the post released it, and yet even as she did so, she found her eyes wandering to look across the clearing at Artorius.

Her eyes beheld his bronzed skin, glistening from sweat under the sun, and the way his muscles rippled with every action.

"Stop it." Krista cursed herself, shaking her head and trying to forget such thoughts, when she saw Lazarus.

His rich chocolate skin and towering six foot physique was unmistakeable, even dressed in a broad-rimmed helmet and with a curved Thracian wooden sword swinging by his side. 

So, Lazarus was being classed as a Thracian, Krista thought, as she looked upon his opponent, a fully armoured spear-holding, Samnite.

But Krista wasn't worried.

Within a matter of moments, Lazarus had caught the Samnite's spear with his curved blade and whisked it out of his hand.

Turning back to her starting position, Krista started to pummel the post, beginning to envy those that were fighting other gladiators and not wooden sticks, when she heard her name being called.

* * * 

Ten minutes later and Krista was stood upon the same sand she had occupied the day before with Leonidas. Only, this afternoon she was to fight a girl from her room; Rheia. 

She stared at Krista with a lot more vengeance than Krista felt towards her.

Rheia's long black hair fell across her face in knotted waves, parting only slightly to allow her ebony eyes to blaze up at Krista, as sand stuck to her lower legs.

Standing a few feet away from her, the crazed look in Rheia's eyes unsettled Krista's stomach as someone walked forward with weapons.

Krista held out her hand for a weapon, similar to the one being handed to Rheia, but no weapon was placed in Krista's grasp.

When Krista failed to feel the weight of a sword in her palm, she broke eye contact with Rheia to look at the man but he was gone and Rheia was seizing her first opportunity.

Krista looked back to see the sharpened wooden edge of a sword being thrusted towards her face, Rheia screaming out as she did so.

Bending at the waist, Krista ducked under Rheia's sword and hooked her ankle around hers.

Pulling her foot out from beneath Rheia's, the bronze-skinned woman fell forward into the sand whilst Krista put a safe distance between them, avoiding a last-minute swipe of her sword.

Adrenaline pumped in Krista's veins as she realised her disadvantage; Rheia was armed and vicious.

Krista looked once again at the tutor, who was watching them scornfully, with no hope.

No weapon was forth coming and Krista was beginning to realise that this was another one of their tests.

And then she realised that Rheia was back up onto her stick-thin legs that Krista was surprised held her up, and was once again throwing herself against Krista, blade tipped forward.

But Krista wasn't about to be put out of the games by a girl who looked like she would crack under the weight of a helmet on her shoulders.

Reaching out to grab Rheia's wrist, which clasped the sword, Krista sent a sharp kick into her abdomen, knocking the air out of her body as Krista spun around.

With her back to Rheia's front, Krista flipped her opponent over the top of her head.

Heaving Rheia's weight over her head, Krista wasted no time in slamming Rheia back into the ground, the sand blowing up around them.

But Krista hadn't moved away quickly enough and Rheia had gripped Krista's ankles, pulling them out from beneath her.

Hitting the ground with a fierce thud, Krista winced at the pain that slammed her shoulder, before she looked up to see Rheia standing over her, sword raised and ready to strike.

The blade began its descent and Krista rolled to the left, the blade sinking into the sand a few inches from her torso.

Seeing the craze in Rheia's eyes, Krista bunched her legs beneath her and leapt to her feet, as Rheia sliced the blade through the air towards Krista's soft abdomen.

Jumping back from the attack, Krista quickly caught both of Rheia's arms and held them out wide, leaving her chest exposed. 

Stepping into the space between them, Krista pulled her head back and sent a whacking blow of her forehead firmly into Rheia's.

Krista gritted her teeth as a wave of pain radiated through her skull but she kept herself centred as she released one of Rheia's arms only to twist the other around her back until Rheia was screaming in agony.

The sword, which was pointing towards the sky, fell as Rheia reluctantly released it against the pain and threat of having her arm broken.

Glancing at the sword in the sand, Krista's desperation for a weapon had her pushing Rheia towards the wall, as she dived for the blade.

Laying face down in the sand, Krista reached out and gripped the handle, beginning to pull when, to her dismay, it would not budge.

Gritting her teeth, Krista pulled harder when she looked up and saw that the master had his foot firmly planted atop the blade so that Krista was unable to defend herself.

Staring at him with confusion, the man simply shook his head, his hands clasped behind his back.

Krista let out a deep sigh of annoyance when she heard the sand crunch behind her and a small grunt sounded in the air.

Looking over her shoulder, Krista spotted a fist heading for her face.

Rolling slightly onto her left, Rheia's clenched fist blew straight past Krista's body, causing Rheia to become unbalanced as she leant forward to attack. 

Striking like a coiled viper, Krista curled her arms around Rheia's neck and pulled her down into the sand beisde her, her arms squeezing tight around Rheia's neck. 

Krista saw the tutor grow worried as Rheia's face began to turn a different shade of colour and Krista was failing to release her.

"Krista!" A voice shouted and she looked up to see Lazarus standing on the steps, helmet gripped in his hand, as he stared down at her with disappointment.

Krista gritted her teeth, immediately feeling ashamed and angered that he had seen her.

Releasing Rheia, Krista watched the girl scuttle away, her black hair falling around her face as she coughed, trying to inhale as much air as possible.

Krista stared at the girl and her tutor with anger and pride; both of them had tried to beat her and they had both failed.

But as soon as Krista's eyes fell upon Lazarus, her oldest friend, she bowed her head and rushed out of the training room.

* * * 

That evening Krista ate her meal alone.

In her exploration of Ludus Magnus she had found a small, empty room at the top of a spiral staircase that led nowhere.

The only thing the circular room contained was an arch window, three feet wide and three feet high, which looked out onto the city of Rome.

The sun had begun to set making the city shine golden and tremendous.

From a distance, Krista could see why such a country had stretched out and created its own empire; it was magnificent and unfathomable that such a place could be so beautiful and yet so dreadful at the same time.

It was so close to being this unbeatable force and yet that little bit made it so wrong. 

The oval manmade amphitheatre, that was a marvellous creation to most, would be the place where countless blood was shed.

Krista looked away from the snippet of the Colosseum she could see and turned back towards the sunset; the faces of her family filling the sky.

There was her father, sweet and caring, who had died because of her.

She had been the one to kill the guard and yet it was him who fell to his death for her; because he was protecting her in a similar way she thought she had been protecting them. 

And then the innocent face of her brother that was quickly marred by a sword being driven through his skull, his eyes filled with fear.

Krista could barely remember her mother's face, she had been so far away when she had been killed; it seemed every memory of her family, before their brutal murders, had been wiped clean from her thoughts.

And in their place were tactics, memories of slavery and the knowledge that if she struck a person in a certain place with the right amount of pressure that they would never walk again, or breathe again depending on the length of time she kept the pressure applied.

What did it say of her that all she knew how to do was kill people?

People exactly like her; slaves.

What sort of person did that make her? 

Krista only knew for certainty that it did not make her a good person. 

"I thought I saw you come up here." A voice spoke behind her and Krista closed her eyes when she knew exactly who that sweet, honey-filled voiced belonged to.

"It wasn't an invitation for you to follow." Krista snapped as Lazarus walked over to her side, a small smile of reassuring warmth on his lips.

He had been with her long enough to know when she wasn't in the mood to talk.

Obviously, he knew more about her than she did, because although she might not feel like talking soon he couldn't get her to stop.

"I wasn't going to kill her." Krista sighed finally, knowing exactly why he was here, but Krista didn't believe herself.

She had been caught up in the moment; fearing for her safety when Rheia had been given a sword and she had not.

"I believe you." Lazarus rested his warm hand on her shoulder paternally.

If Lazarus hadn't stepped in Krista did not know what would have happened. But she didn't like the disappointment she saw in his eyes when he found her.

"So," Krista whispered as the conversation trailed off and she felt better that Lazarus had forgiven her, "You're a Thrace, now?"

"I was going to tell you," Lazarus chuckled softly as he looked across at the Colosseum, "But you ran off before I could catch you." he looked back at her with a single eyebrow raised.

"I'm sorry." Krista smiled sheepishly, when she felt like they were being watched.

Looking over her shoulder, she scowled upon the face that now stood before them in the doorway.

Artorius.

"What do you want?" Krista snapped. She did not like being watched.

"Krista," Lazarus slid his hand from her shoulder as he gave a disapproving look at her language.

Most things Krista looked to Lazarus for advice on, but Artorius wasn't one of them.

"I'll leave you two alone." Lazarus smiled kindly at Artorius, obviously they knew each other from training.

"Lazarus?" Krista called out as he slipped past Artorius and left but he never came back, leaving Krista and Artorius alone.

Artorius had made him leave, and it had been so long since Krista and Lazarus had time alone together that Krista sent Artorius a deathly scowl.

She would have thrown him out of the window if she could, but he wasn't a champion for nothing and he probably weighed three times her own weight.

"I come up here at nights," Artorius explained as he walked forward and nodded towards the scenery, before looking at her quizzically, "How did you find this place?"

Krista hadn't known he had claimed this place as his own but she was not in the mood to argue, "I'll leave."

"No," Artorius blocked her path, making Krista frown at his actions before he changed the topic, "You know Lazarus?"

"Y- Yes," Krista mumbled, watching Artorius as he moved over to the window and laid his own bowl down beside hers on the ledge, the promise of food drawing her back to his side, "We lived in the same village."

"What brought you to be in the care of Commander Niclaus?" Artorius asked as he stared out at the horizon, not looking her in the face as he drank some of his broth.

Krista simply played with her food, "The commander attacked our village and took a few of us on as gladiators. Lazarus taught me everything I know."

"He's a good fighter," Artorius nodded his head, seeming unaffected by her own past as he probably had his own worst tale, "He did this." The Greek lifted his arm and showed off a five inch gash across his forearm.

Krista found herself smiling even as she reached out and rested her hands on his thick forearm, tilting the wound up towards the light so she could get a better look.

Krista had just turned his arm back towards her when she realised that the only sound in the room was of them breathing.

Slowly looking up at Artorius she saw that his beautiful coal eyes were watching her carefully.

"I'm sorry," Krista dropped his arm as if it had burnt her, "I did not mean to overstep."

"You didn't," Artorius put his bowl down and took her hands in his, turning them over until her palms were facing upwards, the pad of his thumb running over her sensitive skin.

Krista's breathing was becoming hitched as the moment grew intimate.

She didn't know what to do as Artorius seemed to spend millennia inspecting her hands.

"Your skin is rough." he whispered with sadness.

Krista frowned, unsure of what to make of this champion of Greece, when he suddenly dropped her hands back down to her side and lifted his hand to cup her chin.

Tilting her face to the side, the warm sunlight spreading across the side of her face, Artorius inspected the wound across her jaw.

Krista stopped breathing as he stepped closer, the light dusting of hair on his bare chest skimming the silk of her own garments.

"If I could have you out of these games, I would." Artorius murmured softly in his deep accent.

Something he said did not fit right with her and Krista fought his grip against her chin to face him again, "I would not."

Artorius could only frown as Krista stepped away from his intoxicating aroma and walked towards the door.

"Krista," Artorius called out when she had taken a step through the doorway, "Never let your guard down."

Krista looked over her shoulder one last time, trying to discern his words, before she turned and hurried down the steps back to her room.