Bonus Chapter – Frieda and Leonidas

Oceanus Britannicus

The shores of Britannica loomed large and magnificent in the distance. Through the fine spray of sea air Diomed calculated that they would be upon those gleaming shores within the day which, after weeks of travelling through Rome, Germania, the Rhine and Gallia, Diomed and Frieda had finally reached their destination.

It had been a tempestuous journey of secrecy and even with the parchments in their grasp that declared their freedom, neither Diomed nor Frieda trusted the guards enough to paid heed to such an object so they journeyed further until the ports became less fortified and the only question put to them was the one of payment. Their motives and pasts were allowed to remain hidden. 

However, upon breaking port and entering onto the Oceanus Altanticus Diomed saw a swift change in Frieda's demeanour. Her boisterous behaviour had subsided, her hunger waned and she locked herself away below deck for the better part of each day. She only surfaced with the setting of the sun to reacquaint herself with the world and even then her footing trembled and her fingers clasped her sword, more for reassurance than fear.
Even now, as he gazed out across the rolling waves, towards the outline of the cliffs, Diomed could sense Frieda's inner quarrels. He sensed the bond between Frieda and Krista, their pasts so similar it was hard for them not to become entwined, however they had now parted ways. Krista had placed her past to rest whilst Frieda's still remained to be conquered.

The ship dipped below him, lurching his body forward slightly, before they were just as quickly lifted up once more on a sharp wave. Turning from past thoughts, Diomed clasped the water skin in his fingers and disappeared below deck, his eyes immediately adjusting to the low light as he unsteadily progressed down the steps and through the lower deck.

The ship swayed from side to side but after so long at sea, and surviving many a storm, Diomed had gained his 'sea legs'. Frieda was reluctant to gain anything other than dehydration as she squirrelled herself away in the corner, nothing but warm memories to keep her company and Diomed feared they were few and far in between. 

"Here," Diomed rapped a single knuckle against the beam of wood on which her hammock hung to announce his arrival. A single eyelid lifted and glared up at him.
"Drink," Diomed held out the water skin, filled with fresh water.

Another eyelid opened and a deep sigh broke forth from her lips before she sat up and took the water skin from his fingers. Waiting for her to take a few sips, Diomed perched himself upon a small crate behind him and regarded Frieda in the low candlelight. The ship gave another sharp dip and Frieda flinched as if something had stabbed her in the gut. She took another quick swig, imaging that it was something stronger, before she clasped the lid shut and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

"Frieda?" Diomed called her name but she didn't respond.

Frieda had heard nothing but his voice for weeks and she wished to escape it. But if she was honest with her herself, Frieda did not want to escape Diomed, she wanted to escape the ship and swim back to Gallia. She had not been aboard a vessel since she was sold to pirates at the tender young age of eight and since that journey had ended Frieda had stayed fervently upon land. Too scared to walk on a deck, Frieda locked herself away in her memories, praying for the quick arrival of land, rock and stone. But her memories only provided a small measure of comfort, the pleasant ones greatly outnumbered by years of pain that were too quick to rise to the surface the closer they got to Britannica.

"We shall be arriving in Britannica by the end of day," Diomed told her softly, warning her.

Frieda took a breath to steady herself, once they exited this ship Diomed would be looking to her to guide. A native of Italia, Diomed depended upon Frieda's knowledge of the country and yet Frieda could only remember a few passages around her village. Taken from such a young age, Frieda's memory of Britannica could barely rival the memory of a brief traveller that had walked its plains for a day. The truth was Frieda felt more at home in Rome than she did in her own motherland, but she had to place all of this aside if she was to find her sister. The odds were stacked against her and yet Frieda had to prevail. The odds had been stacked against her her entire life and yet here she was. 

What kind of older sister did it make her if she did not, at the very least, look for her sister, her last blood relative? She had promised her she would find her. 

"Come with me," Diomed rose steadily from the crate, holding out his hand for her to take.

Frieda arched an eyebrow at the insult, instead choosing to place the water skin in his open palm and rise on her own. Bracing herself against the wooden beam when the ship rocked too much, memories of a frightened girl surrounded by pirates flashed through her memories. Shaking off that girl, Frieda advanced through the deck and clambered up the steps.

"This way," Diomed walked her to the edge of the ship, his body leaning over the side to gaze at where the waves crashed beneath them.

"What are we doing here?" 

"There," Diomed stepped behind her, causing Frieda to become unsettled, as he rested his hands against her shoulders. He could feel the tension in her muscles release after a few seconds.

Unsure of what to do, Frieda was saved from having to react when Diomed's arm stretched out beside her head, his finger pointing into the distance.

"There, do you see it?" Diomed's breath tingled against the side of her neck.

Concentrating on where he was pointing, Frieda adjusted her gaze accordingly and she saw it. In the first light of the day Frieda gasped as she saw a coast line.

"Britannica," Diomed told her as he stepped back, allowing her to experience this on her own.

Her face was relaxed, her eyes wide in wonder; it was the least scared he had seen her since they stepped onto the ship in Gallia. Diomed would take it for now, knowing that they would soon be upon land and Frieda would retreat back into the walls she had built around her. She would return to being the Gladiatrix who would travel to Tartarus and back to find her sister.

Diomed smiled softly as he saw the sunrise reflect in her eyes, "You're home."

* * * 335 leagues away in Rome * * *

The noise of the local tavern assaulted his ears, his eyes and his nose and yet he loved it.

He loved the staunch smell of sweat, the shouting, the drunken fights, the hideous food; Cato loved it all.

He did not know why, maybe it was because of the freedom each person enjoyed or maybe because he had not seen anything like it in his time at Ludus Dacicus.

Or maybe it was because these people were so different to him.

Either way, Cato could sit there, cradling a mug of ale, and watch these people go about their daily lives for hours.

But if he did he would soon come under the stout anger of Leonidas who was now ordering their food for the evening, each of them too tired to hunt.

Looking over his shoulder at his partner, Cato found a smile creeping onto his lips just watching him.

A couple of years ago Cato could not have known how much of an impact his actions would have. The moment he walked upon the sands and refused to fight, Cato had known that nothing had happened in the history of the gladiator games.

And yet, whilst Cato knew of that said impact, he had not known that the gladiator he surrendered to would become his friend, his lover and his entire world.

Cato dreaded to think what would have happened if neither had surrendered, if Krista had not become entwined with Pompeia.

One or both of them would have died upon the sands that day and Cato would not have come to love as deeply as he did now.

But Leonidas had changed much since that day; his blond hair had grown longer until the tips brushed his broad shoulders, his body had become fuller as they ate regular meals but he still remained his powerful physique.

Cato's cheeks warmed to think of Leonidas's powerful body.

Coughing slightly, Cato turned himself around and found his eyes level with a young woman's chest as she perched herself upon the table in front of him.

Cato glanced at where she placed her feet on opposite sides of his lap, her legs parting until her skirt began to ride up her thighs.

"Hello, darling," the young woman smiled with lust, the tip of her tongue poking out from under her lips, "Fancy some company tonight?" The woman leaned forward and ran her hand down Cato's chest.

Her eyes widened when she saw the sword at his hip.

"I don't think-" Cato reached down and clasped his hand around her wrist, beginning to speak when a shadow fell across them.

Looking up, Cato's eyes locked with Leonidas's. There was a small smile of humour playing at Leo's lips a he regarded them both curiously.

"Oh!" the girl squirmed off of Cato's lap and turned her direction on Leonidas.

Cato raised an eyebrow at the small insult that she preferred Leonidas over him.

"How about you big boy?" She pressed her body against Leonidas, her hands slipping beneath his chest armour.

Cato grew uncomfortable at the smile that played on Leonidas's lips.

"Sorry love," Leonidas removed her hands from his person, soothing Cato's mood, "I'm spoken for,"

The girl gave a small squeak of disappointment and curiosity.

Without saying a word, Leonidas sat on the bench opposite from Cato, the table resting between them.

Cato looked at the girl from under his lashes when he saw her regarding them both with curiosity, light beginning to dawn in her eyes.

After a few seconds, the girl collected herself and moved onto the next customer, a young man who did not know where to look.

"I leave for a few minutes . . ." Leonidas moaned around his mug of ale, but Cato could see the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Then do not leave," Cato had meant for the comment to be humorous and light but it was the complete opposite.

His voice caught in the middle and they shared a moment of silence as each took in the meaning of what Cato had said.

"I never will," Leonidas replied, adding to the seriousness of the conversation.

However their small moment passed when a body came crashing into their table, knocking it back a few inches.

Leonidas instantly reached out and threw the man back towards the opponent crowd, who were about to come racing after him.

Cato watched as the man was dragged to his feet, a wayward punch being sent into his stomach before he was dragged from the tavern, their fight spilling out into the night.

Cato shook his head in wonder, "Look at these people."

"I would rather not," Leonidas quirked an eyebrow, taking another swig of his ale.

Cato sighed at his poor attempt but he found his eyes once more beholding the average village folk before them; farmers, traders . . .

"We could have been them, in another life," Cato muttered to himself, maybe that was what he found so fascinating about them.

"If we weren't captured and placed in the arena, we could have become them. My father had been a blacksmith so I guess I would have learned his trade and opened my own shop."

Leonidas frowned into his mug, "My father was a horse breeder before his death."

But to think of all the things that might have been would be a waste of the freedom they had obtained and Cato had no desire to change his path.

He loved fighting and he loved Leonidas, the two came hand in hand. He could not live without the other.

"I was thinking of taking a trip to Greece," Leonidas murmured, half hoping that Cato would not hear him.

Cato remained motionless for a moment.

"To check on Artorius and Krista," Leonidas gave a small shrug, playing it off as if it meant nothing.

"And Lazarus," Cato reminded him, a small smile coming to his lips.

"Yeah," Leonidas coughed, "Him too, I guess."

Cato laughed.

Leonidas glared at him, "We do not have to go."

"Leo," Cato spoke softly, "It is okay for you to miss him, and after all it was only us three for a few weeks. We did not know if Krista and Artorius would survive."

"I do not miss the little tyrant," Leo grumbled but nothing he could say could make Cato believe him.

In the short time they had Lazarus, Cato had seen how Leonidas had played with him, devoted his time to his well-being.

Leonidas did not think Cato had noticed but he saw more than he thought.

"I would like to see them again too," Cato took pity on Leonidas, "We shall start a journey up there tomorrow."

Leonidas shrugged his shoulder, acting as if the plan made no difference to him, but Cato knew different when their food arrived.

Thanking the maid, they began to tuck into their food, all conversation ceasing as they focused on the meat before them.

They were barely half way through their meals when the door to the tavern burst open and man flew in, blood covered the left half of his face and his screams filled everyone with dread.

"What is it, Eugenius?" The man who owned the tavern burst forth, catching the older man in his arms before he collapsed.

"Raiders!" The man shouted, his voice reaching their ears.

Cato and Leonidas shared a look before they gazed at their plates in longing.

With a deep felt sigh, they dropped the food back into their plates and rose to their feet.

"Where are these raiders?" Leonidas asked as they approached from the other side of the tavern, everybody turning to look at them with surprise.

"They're- They're on the opposite side of town, just to the north of the forest," The man cried, "They're burning the huts! One of them took my sister!"

"You cannot mean to stop them," the tavern owner exclaimed when he saw them, "You are two men against two dozen!"

Leonidas and Cato barely blinked an eyelid.

"Good odds," Leonidas smiled before he turned to the man, "Remain here."

Walking back through the tavern, towards the exit, Cato saw the looks of marvel upon the people's face and a small rush of power rushed through his veins.

Slipping his sword from the sheath at his hip, they exited the tavern and took a second to gain their bearings.

"You ready?" Leonidas looked at Cato after acquainting himself with which way pointed north.

Both of them knew that this was just another day fighting for the freedom of others but it never stopped their blood from pumping faster and the adrenaline to kick up.

Someone had to take up Krista's proverbial torch of righteousness and that was them.

Cato flipped the sword in his palm decoratively before flashing Leonidas a wide grin, "Always." 

The third and final book in the Gladiator trilogy has been uploaded. It is called 'Descendants of Rome' and it can be found on my Wattpad profile. I hope that you enjoy it. 

Also, the second part to Frieda's and Diomed's journey has also been uploaded to a spin-off book containing short stories that surround the main characters in the trilogy. It is called 'Gladiator of Rome: Short Stories'. This too is available to read through my profile.