Chapter 14

Those golden brown eyes made Leonidas shiver as he gazed into them.

The hair on his body stood up and his breath caught in his throat as the overwhelming fear of losing this precious person grew too much to bear.

But Leonidas pushed those fears to the back of his mind as he settled in beside Cato, their lips instantly finding each other.

“You’re late,” Cato observed, a tinge of worry etched into his thick dark brows that lined his eyes perfectly.

“Just some trouble with the new recruits,” Leonidas sighed, instantly feeling better in Cato’s presence as the day’s worries were lifted from his shoulders.

“How did you spend your day?” Leonidas sighed as he stood with reluctance and started to remove his armour.

“As always,” Cato, already undressed, leant back and rested his arms behind his head as those glittering gold eyes gazed at Leonidas, “Training.”

Leonidas was struck, not for the first time, at Cato’s pure beauty. His skin, a lovely mocha colour, was unscarred except for the brand that marked them as all as slaves.

Many would see a lack of scars as weakness but Leonidas knew it was strength; Cato was simply too quick to be caught.

Leonidas prayed it was a gift that stayed with him. Leonidas could not imagine a world where Cato did not exist; in fact, he could hardly remember a life before Cato came into his life.

And Leonidas had the arena to thank for that.

A place of turmoil, death and pain it had also been the place where Leonidas and Cato had met; surrendering to Pompeia for Krista.

Krista had brought them together or else they may have killed each other upon the sands that day.

Leonidas shook the memories from his mind and returned to Cato’s side, sliding in between the animal furs in his tent that marked his position as ‘general’.

Not nearly as grand as Krista and Artorius’s tent, it was better than those shared by the masses but the best feature was the privacy it offered.

“You’re warm,” Cato remarked as his hands slid up Leonidas’s chest and pressed the back of his hand against his forehead.

Leonidas shook him off, too interested in the other activities they would soon be joined in as they had every night previous, “I am well,”

Leonidas was reaching for Cato even as he spoke but soon no more words passed between them as their lips found each other.

Cato smelt of fresh water from the river, his hair was still damp, but it was his lips that captivated Leonidas.

Sculpted and full, they tasted of sweet honey and only worked to increase Leonidas’s frenzy to keep Cato close.

And that is precisely what Leonidas did as he curled his leg around Cato’s and turned him onto his back allowing Leonidas to lie atop him, their fingers entwined above Cato’s head.

Tilting his head to the side, Leonidas was about to deepen the kiss when an irritating noise erupted outside their tent.

“Leonidas? Leonidas!” The voice shouted at him through the thick fabric of his tent.

Leonidas did not move a muscle except to growl in anger at the person who sought to interrupt them.

He felt Cato pull back reluctantly and gaze up at him with those burning gold eyes.

“No,” Leonidas shook his head at Cato, knowing exactly what he was thinking, “Frieda can sort it out,” Leonidas kissed Cato again before he could say another word.

“Leonidas!” The voice shouted again and this time Leonidas could hear the tinge of annoyance attached to their voice.

“Shouldn’t we-?”

“-I am naked,” Leonidas told Cato abruptly, “I am with the one I love and I have no interest in being pulled into an argument over a goat’s head. They shall have to sort it out themselves,”

“A goat’s head?” Cato raised an eyebrow though he was secretly grinning as he heard Leonidas say he loved him.

Leonidas rolled his eyes at Cato’s correctness, “Whatever it may be,” He sighed just before their lips touched again, “They can deal with it themselves.”

But it seemed the Gods were not allowing Leonidas his pleasure as the voice screaming his name suddenly morphed into a person as they barged into his tent.

They both reacted purely on instinct as they rolled away from each other off of their bed and reached for their swords.

“Leonidas,” Frieda shouted in anger as she entered his tent, her eyes barely noticing that they were both naked before her with their swords drawn, “Where have you been?”

“Why are you in my tent?” Leonidas ignored her question and asked one of his own.

Frieda looked at him with seriousness and that is when Leonidas knew Frieda was not playing.

The Briton would rise to any opportunity to snap a witty remark at them but right now she stood motionless and silent.

“We have a serious problem,” Frieda told them and that’s when Cato noticed her appearance.

Her skin had turned a pale colour, her hair was pulled back into a rough bun atop her head and she looked tired.

“Get dressed and join me outside,” Frieda departed leaving Leonidas and Cato to look at each other momentarily before they rushed to get dressed.

Leonidas would have loved nothing more than to remain there with Cato and let the world rage on around them but Cato wasn’t that type of person.

Strapping on their armour, they sheathed their swords and rushed out to join Frieda when they came face to face with an epidemic.

Leonidas and Cato stared out over the horizon; the camp stretched as far as their eyes could see and even in the darkness, as torches lit the paths, they could see the problem.

People were everywhere as they wandered aimlessly.

Most were cradling their tender abdomens as they were hunched over vomiting up the contents of their supper whilst a few had collapsed to the ground in a pool of their own vomit and faeces.

And as they stood there more people started to collapse to the ground.

“We need to find Krista,” Frieda informed them as they shared a look of common fear.

They all knew how to fight an enemy but this was an enemy they could not see; this was disease.

* * *

Krista sat on the thick branch, twenty feet in the air, and stared out through the branches at the full moon that rested in the sky.

She had come here every day since that night in the tent when Artorius informed her that Lazarus had died for her.

Krista was not sure how she should react; she wanted to scream and shout at the heavens.

She wanted to hit something and the first night that was exactly what she had done.

She had found a secluded spot in the forest, far from any wandering eyes, and attacked a tree; the bark had flown off in chunks as she slashed its perceived throat in anger.

She wanted to curse Lazarus for what he had done; he may have wanted to protect her but surely he had to know that she needed him alive more than she needed him dead.

What could he do in the Elysium fields to protect her that he couldn’t do by her side?

Did he know what he had awakened inside of her when he sacrificed himself? Did he know that when he died he took a part of her soul along with him?

And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get that piece back.

She was wondering around, trying to lead these people, incomplete.

It was painful; it hurt to think that she would never be complete again but even as she thought it she knew that to be untrue.

With every waking day Artorius, and the child that now grew inside of her, were slowly filling that gap.

Krista didn’t want them to, she needed that space to remind her what Pompeia had done, but she couldn’t stop it.

It was happening against her will that very second as the child, now almost five months old, squirmed inside of her, gaining more life every second.

Krista turned from the moon and looked down at her swollen stomach and tried to imagine what their child looked like.

She had grown up a poor workers daughter and thus had been exposed to a certain extent of raw knowledge in her early life but she had no education to speak of.

Krista knew nothing of pregnancy and nothing of childbirth except that it may claim her life.

Years of her life had been spent battling the strongest men and women in Rome and yet she may be killed by the very thing she created.

The object that was meant to bring her never-ending love could be the thing to send her to her death.

But Krista could not think about that as the child squirmed again, harder this time, reminding her that he was inside of her.

Innately, Krista reached down her hand and rested her palm against the side of her stomach where she felt the painful squirming begin.

She did not know why she did it but the moment she had Krista regretted it.

Because at the precise moment in time the child, who seemed to sense the presence of her hand, gathered all of its strength and sent a striking kick into her side

Krista’s lips parted in silent surprise as her hand flew away from her stomach in fear.

The pain was sharp at first but then fleeting as the child became silent, resting inside of her, leaving Krista to ponder what had just occurred.

“So you are alive in there,” Krista whispered in shock, her eyes growing wide.

She could not let herself believe that she was growing another human being inside of her; women had done it for thousands of years but Krista never thought she would.

Her life as a Gladiatrix had stopped all hopes of a family and Krista had even told herself that she did not want one.

How could she want a family when she hers had left her so easily?

Krista could not go through the pain of losing another family but that’s exactly the pain she was going through every day.

She had lost Lazarus but he was not her only family any more.

She had lost her best friend but she would not lose Artorius, or Leonidas, or Frieda, or-

Krista was cut from her thoughts as she heard approaching footsteps.

Hidden up in the trees, Krista remained still as she gazed down at the floor and awaited the arrival of whoever was trailing the forest at night.

Krista did not have to wait long as she saw the flickering glow of torches in the distance head in her direction.

The closer they got the more Krista held her breath, until they were stood directly beneath her.

A small group of three with a pair of torches, their heads were covered by-

“-Leonidas?” Krista frowned when she heard his familiar Gaullist drawl as they started to pass her below.

Curling her fingers around the branch she sat upon, Krista pushed herself off and landed behind them effortlessly.

She wobbled only slightly as the extra weight around her hips forced her to tilt forwards, her centre of gravity changing.

Brushing it off, Krista stared at her group of generals as they turned and faced her with only mild surprise; they knew she would be here.

Krista didn’t know whether she liked that they knew her so well but this was not the time to discuss it.

Frieda’s eyes were dull with seriousness rather than twinkling with mischief and Leonidas was sober in thought.

It was only Cato who spoke her name and even his tone of voice filled her with apprehension.

“What is the matter?” Krista gazed at them, her heart picking up pace as she feared the worst.

“Disease,” Frieda told her, grasping a torch in her left hand, “I noticed it a few days ago but people have been growing persistently worse,”

Frieda’s words caused another weight to land upon Krista’s shoulders; how could she keep her people safe from the Romans if she could not keep them safe from pestilence?

Krista prided herself on the fact that she could fight almost anything with a sword but this was not something that could be beaten with steel.

“Do we know what it is?” Krista glanced around them when another fearful thought entered her mind, “Where is Artorius?”

Frieda and Leonidas shared a glance, “The few healers we have are looking into the sickness but no, we do not yet know of the cause,”

Krista did not like the news but it was not without hope and she was waiting for them to answer her other question but no one said a word.

“Frieda,” Krista locked eyes with her, “Where is Artorius?”

“Here!”

Krista closed her eyes in silent relief as she turned and gazed upon his dark figure as he rushed through the trees leading a horse behind him, satchels strapped to the saddle.

The image only created more questions in her mind but there was only one possible answer that Krista could think of; someone was leaving.

She knew that Frieda, Leonidas nor Cato were about to abandon the cause and she knew Artorius would not leave her so that left only one person to sit upon the horse; herself.

“We need to go back to camp,” Krista informed them, feeling her heart beat as they would soon question why Krista had to leave.

And Krista did not want to leave; her place was here at the head of the army.

She had a duty to the people under her protection and that did not involve abandoning them at the first test of leadership.

“You are not going back until this sickness has been healed,” Artorius commanded her with authority making Krista’s spine straighten in defiance.

“Those people are my responsibility,” Krista snapped at Artorius, ordering him to return the horse.

“Your responsibility is to our unborn child,” Artorius told her in earnest, his voice raised so that everybody heard him.

Krista gritted her teeth as he revealed their secret, her worst fears about to come to life.

She glared up at Artorius through her lashes before she glanced at the others awkwardly over her shoulder.

“And until we know what this disease is then I want you nowhere near this place,” Artorius told her, laying down the line that Krista would gladly have crossed.

“He’s right,” Cato informed her with a solemn nod.

“If I was Artorius I would have had you kicked out of camp months ago,” Leonidas joined in not helping Krista with the fact that she was actually being kicked out of the camp against her wishes.

“Wait . . .” Krista frowned, turning to face them fully, “You already knew?”

Leonidas and Cato chuckled between themselves whilst Frieda rolled her eyes and cupped Krista’s shoulder in her hand.

“Did you think you could keep it a secret?” Frieda scoffed, “The queasiness? How you’ve been sleeping all day and the rapidly growing stomach? My mother was a healer,” Frieda explained.  

Krista glanced down at where her corset was already loosened to accommodate her growing size.

“So, get on the bloody horse,” Frieda slapped Krista’s shoulder in comradeship, “And get as far from here as possible. We shall send for you when it is safe to return,”

Krista hated being ordered what to do and she feared that they would not send for her; once she was out of the way she would not put it past Artorius keep her there until she had delivered the child.

By which time all chance of revenge and opportunity would have slipped from her grasp.

Krista covered her unhappiness at the situation, “It is about time I had some time away from you uncivilised people,” Krista stepped towards the horse, a large beast with brown and white spots.

“After all,” Krista took the reins from Artorius, “There is only so many body odours a person can take.”

“I have packed enough food for a week and anything I thought you might need,” Artorius tapped the satchels which were wrapped around the saddle.

Krista knew that Artorius meant well but it did not mean she liked it.

However there was one thing Krista knew he should experience before she left for an unknown period of time.

Reaching out her hand, Krista grasped Artorius’s wrist and placed his hand flat against the side of her stomach.

As if on cue, the baby had heard something or felt the pressure of Artorius’s hand, but he played along and kicked against her stomach.

The pain, sharp at first, was becoming more of an ache than actual pain; an ache that Krista was beginning to enjoy.

Krista watched Artorius’s face as his eyes widened and his lips parted as it dawned on him exactly what he was feeling.

“Now you have to keep yourself safe,” Artorius urged her, his voice crackling under the emotion and Krista, reluctantly, agreed.

“And to make sure that you do,” Artorius kept his hand where it was as he waved at something over his shoulder, “You are not going alone,”

“I do not need a protector,” Krista growled in anger as she heard another horses hooves walking towards them.

“He is not your protector,” Artorius turned back to her, “He’s simply another look out so you can catch some much needed rest,”

Krista narrowed her eyes as she picked up on Artorius’s choice of word, “He?”

But before Artorius could answer, her companion for the foreseeable future suddenly came into view.

And as Krista looked up at him, sat atop his new horse with a sense of pride, Krista was immediately regretting this decision.