Chapter 11

Setting his bow to the side, Diomed sat on the ground and started to prepare the fish he had caught earlier that day.

As the sun set above him, the temperature dropped equally as a cold wind brushed around him, slithering over his bald head like ice.

Absentmindedly, Diomed ran the palm of his hand over the rough sphere of his skull, remembering the day he had been forced to kneel like a slave and have the dark locks sheared from his scalp.

Among other things, they had left bloody gashes across his head from their sharp razors which soon formed thick pale scars across his olive toned skin.

Turning back to his meal, his stomach growling in protest, Diomed reached for the dagger at his side.

Hooking a finger through the eyelet at the base of the silver plated dagger, Diomed swung the small blade around his finger until he grasped the handle and slit the fish down the middle.

Once the fish was roasting on a stick, the flames burning low to keep his position hidden, Diomed turned his head north.

The dense forest provided Diomed with the right amount of coverage and yet the foliage was light enough to allow him to peer through the trees up at the rebel’s camp which rested atop the hill.

Diomed had remained back from Krista when she had left the river and instead chose to follow her tracks.

For a skilled hunter such as himself, her tracks were difficult to follow.

She knew exactly where to place her feet as to not leave a trail and Diomed had thrice been tricked by dummy trails.

Diomed did not know whether Krista had set them up deliberately or if she had simply walked that path before but it gave him an insight into the Gladiatrix’s mind.

For a woman who was free of Rome, she was constantly on alert.

Every minute of every day, Krista was expecting an attack and that helped Diomed greatly.

* * *

Her vision at the river unsettled Krista.

She spent the entire journey back to her tent trying to push those thoughts and memories away; they had no place here.

Memories of Lazarus were not going to help her win this war, they weren’t going to help her decide what was right or wrong and they definitely were not going to aid her as she broke the news to Artorius.

He would be angry, Krista knew, because she had kept it from him for this long.

But what choice did she have? Krista had discovered it only moments before Gaius attacked the villa and then they were on the run and then Artorius was about to be killed by a stray Roman archer.

There wasn’t a ‘right’ time to tell him that they created a life together but there was a ‘wrong’ time.

And every time before this had been wrong.

That’s what Krista told herself as she climbed the hill, her wet hair trailing cold water down her back, before she pulled the curtain back on her tent and stepped inside.

The torches were blazing brightly, instantly enveloping her in warmth the moment she let the curtain fall back into place behind her.

Artorius was sat at the desk, regarding the map, with a deep look of concentration etched upon his features.

His thick eyebrows were furrowed in the middle as his ebony eyes reflected the flicker of candle light flame that rested beside him.

A light dusting of hair covered his jaw and his wavy hair was unruly as he ran his hand through those thick locks.

Simply seeing him settled a storm inside of her that she hadn’t known was raging until she was by his side.

Hearing her step inside and sensing that he was being watched, Artorius lifted his gaze from the map and Krista saw the instantaneous smile that spread to his lips.

It warmed her more than any fire could.

“Krista,” Artorius was by her side in an instant, his body covered in a thick robe that parted down the middle to reveal his taut abdomen.

Krista threw her sword onto the bed with a deep sigh.

Artorius frowned as she turned her head, his fingers cupping her chin as he inspected the cut to the side of her neck.

“It’s only a small cut,” Krista brushed his fingers aside as she remembered the roman who had done it, “I hardly feel it which is more than can be said for the man who did it,”

Krista remembered the arrow that pierced the soldier’s body as if it was happening right in front of her and it still unnerved her to not know who that mysterious archer had been or where he is now.

“Artorius,” Krista closed her eyes for a second as she took a deep breath, “There is something that I must tell you now before any more words are spoken,”

Artorius watched her intently, his eyes betraying the worry he felt at the urgency in her voice.

And for a moment Krista faltered.

How was she about to tell this man something that had shattered her own life? Krista had no more thought about being a mother than she had thought about becoming a slave again.

It was a privilege Krista had thought was denied her for her crimes; how could the Gods allow such a woman to bear a child?

And it was not just a child, it was the offspring to the Champion of Greece. A man rewarded for his skills in the arena whilst Krista held not a title to her name.

It not only seemed impossible to a poor girl from an outline province, but a sick joke of the Gods.

They had not only allowed the pregnancy but allowed it knowing what would surely happen in the future.

Krista would condemn this child to be an orphan because Krista could not imagine any other life than one of the sword.

And people who lived by the sword did not live long enough to see their children grown.

Should Krista condemn Artorius to such a fate as she now walked upon?

Was it fair to cuckold the ‘Champion of Greece’? The man who had followed her blindly?

“Krista?” Artorius’s voice called to her through the haze of her thoughts and she knew she had to tell him.

He would discover soon enough, Krista told herself, and she could not leave him.

“The other day, at the villa,” Krista bit her lower lip, unsure of how to tell him, and the longer she waited the more concerned Artorius was growing, “I discovered something,”

Artorius did not speak, he simply stared at her with confusion, waiting for her to continue.

Krista could have laughed as she imagined him thinking about a secret tactic to beat the romans but what she was about to say had the power stall their campaign indefinitely.

“I- I’m with child,” Krista spoke quickly, her eyes glued to Artorius’s face as his features seemed to drop.

His eyes widened, his lips parted and his breathing seemed to stop as he simply stared at her.

“Artorius?” Krista bit her lower lip in fear of what he would do.

“How- How long?” Artorius stuttered, his eyes moving downwards towards her abdomen at the baby that now lay in her womb.

“About four months,” Krista was still watching him closely, waiting for him to grow angry with her but there didn’t seem to be any hateful feelings resonating from him.

It confused Krista; the moment she had discovered what her own body had been hiding she hated it.

Not only her body for keeping the precious object alive but that she should have conceived in the first place.

Even now, Krista could not condone her actions.

Artorius took a step closer, his hand resting at her waist before he slid his palm forward over the bump that now forced her corset to remain loosely tied.

Krista allowed herself a moment of peace as she enjoyed the feeling of his hand against her midriff when his face changed into one of horror and Krista kicked herself for allowing herself any sort of joy.

“Wait, the romans!” Artorius panicked and Krista had thought the exact same thing; how was she supposed to carry on this campaign when they still had to beat Rom-

“The romans you fought the other day!” Artorius clarified and Krista realised that he was not thinking of the same bigger picture as she was, “How do we know the baby’s safe?”

Krista frowned, sure that if something was wrong she would have felt it. But then, she had not felt the baby until now, how did she not know that it was dead inside of her?

That would be an equally sick joke of the Gods.

“We don’t,” Krista muttered, obviously not as concerned as Artorius who was starting to shout for an apothecary but Krista did not wish her condition to be audited to the entire army.

“Silence!” Krista shouted as a messenger came hurling into their tent.

“Get the apothecary!” Artorius ordered the boy against Krista’s wishes.

“No,” Krista turned and pointed her finger at the boy, “You shall do no such thing.”

The boy seemed torn between who to obey but as the figure head of the rebellion, Krista remained superior to Artorius.

“Krista, your stubbornness shall not get in the way of this ba-”

“-Go,” Krista spoke to the boy, interrupting Artorius before he shouted the news, “and fetch the woman Helga. She came with us from Marcus Threasius’s villa,”

The boy nodded and quickly backed away from their tent.

Only once the curtain had fallen back in place and the boy disappeared did Krista turn back to Artorius with anger in her eyes.

“I do not wish the entire army to hear about this until entirely necessary,” Krista stepped around Artorius and gazed down at the map.

“Until necessary?” Artorius frowned, “I should have thought that it was necessary four months ago, Jupiter only knows what damage has already been done,”

Their moment of shared happiness had passed into one of anger as Artorius presumed Krista would take a step back from her duties as leader.

“Just because there is a child growing inside of me,” Krista growled through gritted teeth, “does not make me weak. I can still fight better than any man here,”

Artorius bristled at her comment, “You would risk the life of our child, for what? To prove something to Pompeia?”

Krista remained silent because it was partly true; she could not allow Pompeia to think she had given in.

Nothing was going to stop Krista from avenging Lazarus’s death and killing Pompeia.

But it was also because Krista was afraid; the moment people saw her as a pregnant woman they would see her as nothing else.

The word ‘Gladiatrix’ would be replaced with ‘mother’.

Krista would rather die than have her honour washed away in childbirth.

“I am not risking anything,” Krista reassured Artorius, “The child survived against insurmountable odds, remember all of the fights we have been in in the last four months alone. The child should not have survived and yet it has,”

Artorius seemed unhappy but was unable to argue.

“Now that I know the thing exists I shall take greater care,” Krista stood straight and walked up to him, “but you cannot keep me from battle.”

* * *

Artorius remained awake as Krista slept soundly by his side.

Though there was barely a foot of bed between them it felt like a mile.

Artorius would have her sat up in the tent, protected by no less than a dozen gladiators he trusted the most, but Krista would not hear of it.

He had loved her for her stubborn, defiant ways but when the life of their child came into the middle Artorius could not condone it.

He still could not believe that such a thing had happened; Krista was right when she said the child should not have survived.

It seemed impossible but so did escaping Rome and creating a rebel army.

They should never have lived in the arena and yet they did.

They should have never escaped but they did.

It seemed all the impossible’s were becoming possible.

And a simple glance at Krista’s stomach proved that to be true.

Helga, an elderly woman who had revealed the truth to Krista, had said the child was healthy.

But Artorius could not take any more risks and Krista may not like him for it but he loved her too much to let her kill their child.

From now on, someone would always be with her; either voluntarily or following close behind.

Pompeia wanted Krista dead and if she could kill her own brother she would not care whether Krista was with child or not.

And in a world where impossible’s were becoming true every day, there was one impossibility that Artorius could not bear to become true.