Chapter 43

Frieda’s movements mimicked that of the beasts caged within the arena, their limbs moving softly against the sand as they stalked their prey.

But whilst they held claws and teeth, Frieda had her sword.

The tunnels beneath the arena were deserted as every able bodied soldier had been called to the surface, making their progress across to the other side minimal.

Neither had spoken in their haste to reach the other side of the Colosseum and save their companions.

It was not lost on Frieda that without Amor’s assistance, they would not have managed to escape to the arena, and would have died.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she saw the light in the air began to change and knew they were coming upon the gate.

Without hesitating, Frieda pushed past Diomed, skidded around the sharp corner, and charged up the slope towards the awaiting guards.

Barely half a dozen guards; too intent on what was happening within the arena, they were not prepared for her arrival.

Sensing their fear, Frieda felt her lips spread into a smile.

Time to have some fun, Frieda thought as she heard Diomed’s boots behind her, trying to catch up.

Too slow, Frieda laughed as she suddenly kicked herself up off the wall and twirled in the air, her boot connecting with the staunch jaw of an unknowing roman soldier.

Landing on the ground, her back to the guard, Frieda sent Diomed a smug grin as she made the first attack.

Diomed slowed for a moment, giving her a tired look. He was not pleased.

This only made Frieda laugh when she heard the boots of the guards scuff against the stone behind her.

Diomed’s eyes widened in delayed shock but Frieda had already bent at the knee, spun on her heel and shoved her blade up into the man’s exposed thigh.

Screaming in pain, his warm blood wetting her blade, Frieda quickly withdrew her sword from his flesh and bolted upright.

Holding the back of his head, his hair ticking her wrist, Frieda slashed the edge of her blade across his throat before he could react.

Releasing his scalp, Frieda watched his body descend to the ground, his blood staining the soles of her boot.

She scowled in disgust at having roman blood on her garments.

“Frieda?” Diomed’s voice called and Frieda casually lifted her head.

Arching an eyebrow, Frieda remained perfectly poised and simply watched as Diomed battled four of the guards.

Tilting her head in curiosity, Frieda was slowly realising she had never seen Diomed truly fight.

And in those few moments, Frieda could see that he was rather good.

“Hmm,” Frieda nodded her head slowly in surprise when she felt the air shift behind her.

Looking out from the corner of her eye, Frieda could see the flicker of a shadow against the wall from where the sun penetrated through the gate.

The gate!

Frieda suddenly remembered what she was doing here.

Loosening her grip on her sword’s hilt, Frieda flicked the blade around in her grasp until it was pointing towards the wall behind her.

Waiting, Frieda remained motionless as the guard drew closer.

Frieda could image his sword raised over his head, waiting to strike her dead.

But as she heard his boots crunch the loose sand behind her, Frieda thrust the sword below her arm and straight into the man’s waiting abdomen.

Feeling his armour crack beneath the pressure, Frieda gripped her sword with both hands and twisted the blade.

Sword still inside his chest, Frieda found herself having to turn and place her boot against his chest.

Yanking on her sword, Frieda found that her sword was truly stuck within the man’s body.

Frowning, Frieda renewed her grip on the sword and began to pull again when Diomed’s frantic voice filled her ear.

Glancing over her shoulder, Frieda saw a younger roman heading towards her, his long blond hair escaping from beneath his helmet.

With her hand still grasping her sword and her sword still trapped in the body of another roman, Frieda found herself facing a soldier unarmed.

Her heart hammered her ears and she could feel every hair on her body as she watched his eyes intently.

Wide green spheres shining with fear and survival that showed her his next move.

The right side of his body tilted, his arm drawing back and Frieda knew he was going for a swipe at her neck.

Still holding her sword behind her, Frieda crouched towards the ground and the sword swiped the air where her neck had been.

Kicking out at the boy’s ankles, Frieda leaned back as far as she could as his body came tumbling towards her, still grasping his sword.

Standing quickly, Frieda reached out her foot and crushed the man’s wrist beneath her boot.

His voice cried out into the air, mingling with the roar of lions, as Frieda felt his bones crunch beneath the sole of her boot.

Keeping the young roman immobile, Frieda reached back behind her and tugged on her sword with renewed force.

“Bloody-!” Frieda screamed expletives at her sword before it finally tugged itself free, sending Frieda teetering off balance.

Finding her footing, Frieda turned to slip her sword into the roman beneath her boot only to find that he was already dead with a blade sticking out of his throat.

Trailing her eyes up the bloodied blade, Frieda followed the exposed arms that shone bronze with sweat, across the wide shoulders, up the neck and upon the face of . . . Diomed.

Frieda narrowed her eyes in anger.

“He was mine,” Frieda snapped as she lifted her foot off the body, as if it had just hit her.

Diomed rolled his eyes and gave a small grunt of exertion as he yanked the blade from the man’s flesh, “Get that side of the gate,”  

Frieda did as he said because there were gladiators that needed their help but as Frieda glanced back at where Diomed had been fighting she saw a pile of three bodies lying atop each other.

Frieda quirked an eyebrow when she saw that one of them was missing an earlobe. She was sorry she missed it.

“You owe me a roman,” Frieda snapped at Diomed as she sheathed her sword and curled her fingers around a long wooden shaft, connected to a turn wheel.

“This is hardly the place!” Diomed sighed as he caught hold of the other side and they both began to push the wheel counter-clockwise.

“This is exactly the place,” Frieda playfully interjected, “This is Rome, after all.”

But the smiles and laughter were quickly lost and replaced with grunts and cries of exertion.

The wheel would normally take four men to turn but they numbered merely two.

Turning on her back, Frieda planted her shoulders against the length of the handle and began to push backwards, using her feet for momentum.

Sweat was pouring off their bodies, their swords scraping against the floor they were bent so low to the ground.

And I thought being a gladiator was hard, Frieda thought with humour as her mouth opened and closed, gasping for air but all she found was stale heat.

After what appeared to be an eternity, the gate had risen far enough for men to duck beneath.

“Stay here!” Diomed suddenly shouted and bolted from the wheel, leaving the brunt of the force bearing down on Frieda’s shoulders.

Unprepared for his sudden departure, the wheel slipped back slightly before Frieda managed to place her foot against the wall, propping her up against the wooden plank.

“Diomed!” Frieda growled through gritted teeth, too afraid to move.

Looking out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Diomed slotting a large metal pin through a link in the chains.

“There!” Diomed exclaimed whilst collapsing against the wall with relief.

Leaping out from between the wheel, Frieda hit the ground on her back as the wheel gave a sudden jerk, straining against the hold of the chain.

Frieda watched with apprehension, half expecting the wood to splinter and break but it remained where it was.

Closing her eyes, Frieda took the chance to take a few deep breaths when a tremendous roar filled their ears.

Propped up on her elbows, Frieda turned her head to the side and gazed into the arena.

Her eyes came into instant contact with the almighty beast of a great lion; his mane ruffling around his neck as his jaw opened wide.

Frieda’s eyes grew wide as she gazed upon the gigantic fangs enclosed within its jaw; fangs that could tear a man to shreds within seconds.

“We need to go!” Diomed suddenly exclaimed as he spotted the lion take interest in Frieda, collapsed on the ground.

Running to her side, Diomed reached down and gripped her hand.

Yanking her to her feet, Diomed kept his hand clasped around hers as they ran back towards the tunnels.

“What about Amor and the others!?” Frieda shouted as they ran, not protesting at her hand being held by Diomed.

“They’ll soon follow,” Diomed did not risk a look behind him but Frieda’s fingers suddenly gripped his back.

Diomed felt his heart give a small leap. The action was so foreign to them both it took Diomed by surprise.

But as he felt his lips begin to spread into a smile, Frieda’s fingers grew unbearably tight and soon she was tugging him to a halt.

“What is it!?” Diomed glanced back down the darkened tunnel, trapped away from the sunlight, as the sounds of beast filled their ears, “We need to go. We need to catch up with Krista and Artorius.”

“Hold on,” Frieda’s eyes flickered around them, her brows drawing together in confusion, “I know this place.”

Diomed frowned; all of these tunnels looked exactly the same!

But before he could protest further, Frieda had already slipped her hand from his and darted off down an adjoining corridor.

Hesitatingly for only a moment, Diomed bit out a curse beneath his breath as he followed her down the tunnel.

“Frieda? Frieda!” Diomed hissed when she failed to respond.

But a few moments later, the tunnel they were in suddenly curved and torches flickered in the distance.

Frieda reached the cells first, her eyes encasing the scene with anger.

Diomed felt the tension as he slowed to a walking pace and passed the lines of cells.

Within the metal confinements, lay many a man and woman. The few who still had their strength approached them warily.

Others were too weak to do anything except lift their heavy eyelids and stare at them with empty gazes, too old and weak to find the energy.

The sight alone was enough to make his stomach churn despite the stench of faeces, sweat and urine mixed in with the hot air.

Frieda gazed at the people with shock; barely a year ago she had been one of these people.

Trapped, crouched on the floor, as she awaited her next battle.

But some of these people were not even gladiators, they merely appetisers for the crowds.

People deemed to have more value as entertainment rather than as human beings.

“Yarrgh!” Frieda’s body was gripped with rage as she unsheathed her sword and struck the chains that held the doors shut.

Sparks flew as her sword cut through the chain and, acting on a linked system, every door of each cell now creaked open.

Breathing heavy, Frieda took an unsteady step back as the people, too indoctrinated with fear, remained in their cages, afraid of freedom.

“Go!” Frieda screamed when no one reacted, “You’re free! Go!”

“GO!” Frieda shouted again and, stunned by her anger, few people began to move.

Their steps were slow but gathering in momentum and soon even the weak were being carried out of their cells.

“Frieda,” Diomed pulled her to the side, “We need to go.”

Frieda looked at Diomed and nodded her head; she knew he was right but Frieda could not leave these people to this fate.

She had been one of them.

But they had a bigger plan so, forced to leave them, Frieda and Diomed hurried back towards the palace.

* * *

Frieda glanced as the numerous of dead roman guards that littered the marble floor, their blood making the slippery floor treacherous to walk upon.

Frieda and Diomed shared a look, not knowing what to expect as they turned the corner.

But as they walked down the steps into Pompeia’s rooms, remembering Krista’s directions, Frieda heard her friend’s voice.

“Now,” Krista spoke, her voice sounding oddly lighter than usual, “We find our son.”

Frieda and Diomed paused within the room and stared at the scene with confusion.

How long had they been gone?

Frieda noticed Gaius and the senate conversing in the corner but the main thing Frieda noticed was the cold body of Pompeia lying on the ground, her eyes staring up at the ceiling as blood pooled around her abdomen.

“What did we miss!?” Frieda complained. They had started without her.

Krista and Artorius shared a look between each other, irking Frieda when a body approached from the side.

Her hand flew to her waist as Gaius approached, a large grin across his jaw.

“Wait, Frieda,” Artorius stepped forward, “He is no longer our enemy.”

Frieda arched an eyebrow but she reluctantly released her sword.

“It would appear,” Diomed spoke to Frieda softly, “We missed quite a lot.”

Frieda jerked her head in a nod as she stared at Krista in question.

“Diomed,” Gaius bowed his head towards Diomed. Diomed returned the motion.

Frieda frowned, her eyes glancing between the two with confusion when Krista caught her eye.

“I shall explain later,” Krista whispered but what shocked Frieda more was the smile that tugged at her lips.

Frieda had not known Krista to smile in a few weeks but then Pompeia was dead; Frieda was sure it would bring a smile to the entire Empire.

“Artorius is correct,” Gaius informed Frieda and Diomed, “Rome is no longer your enemy.”

Frieda gave a small scoff of disbelief.

“I know it may seem . . . contradictory,” Gaius chose his words carefully around the lively Albion, “But our reasons for hunting you are extinct. They died with Pompeia.”

Frieda flickered her eyes towards Krista, looking for a sign of how she should act but Krista just gave a small nod of her head.

What had happened!? Frieda wanted to scream.

“The charges against Krista of the assassination of Emperor Titus were found to be false,” Gaius spoke like a Senator, Frieda shifted uncomfortably.

Frieda looked towards Pompeia who lay dead on the floor, “But would not Krista killing Pompeia force you to hunt her still?”

“It would,” Gaius smirked, “But Pompeia did not die by Krista’s hands. As it is, Krista has never killed an Emperor of Rome and, thus, is free to go.”

Not by her own hand!? Frieda gave a start, is that not what this entire war had been about?

No, Frieda quickly checked herself; it had not been about total revenge. It was about the truth, and gaining their freedom.

Everything Krista had accomplished.

“Here,” Gaius turned slowing, his cape swirling dramatically behind him, as a man held up a silver tray filled with six rolled up pieces of parchment.

“What is that?” Frieda frowned whilst Diomed took a slow step forward, his eyes wide with amazement.

Frieda grew uncomfortable as Gaius handed them each their own separate parchments.

“What does it contain?” Frieda held up the parchment, held together with a length of red ribbon.

“That,” Gaius pointed towards the parchment she held, “is your freedom. Whilst you have that in your possession, you may never be captured, sold or enslaved again. These parchments state you as free citizens of the empire.”

Frieda suddenly felt as if she was holding a great weight in her hand.

Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart beat unsteadily as she took in the meaning on what she held.

She was free.