Chapter One

"Oh, this heat will be the death of me! It scorches the very skin from my flesh!"

Shit. To hear Gratiana's lamentations, one would assume she strolled on the surface of the sun itself instead of the dusty, bustling streets of Capua. Midday approached and the market became a ravenous beast, hungry for coin. Storekeepers loudly enticed customers to sample their wares, exhausted whores cursed as they expelled the last men of the previous night onto the streets and women vigorously shook the dirt from rugs out of their windows. The air smelled of piss, sweat, shit, perfumes, meat and fruit. While her mother could barely stand the ruckus, Lucretia relished it. Fifteen years parted from her place of birth was an anguished eternity of silence among ghosts. No parties, no excitement and most importantly, no Gaia. Life in the outskirts of Tarracina was a prison and Lucretia had finally escaped to the city she loved.

"We are nearing the villa, Mother. You will be free of the sun in a moment. Please be silent." Lucretia pleaded for her sanity as they turned into a hidden side alley stifled with people and animals. The narrow passage snaked between two large buildings, and then opened to a wide street which led to their home in the heart of Capua. Lucretia's grandfather purchased the unwanted plot of land, at the time decrepit and rife with criminal activity, and built two adjoining villas that flanked a circle adorned with a fountain, a tribute to Minerva.

Gratiana scoffed bitterly, fanning herself with the hem of her plain brown stola. Rufus, their guard, attempted to cover both ladies with the single umbrella with little success. "That I should suffer in silence would please you? I do not know by what means you convinced your father to maintain his villa in Capua when our family was perfectly settled in Tarracina but I am not required to rejoice in the change."

Again with veiled accusations. Gratiana's own father abandoned her mother before she was born, so she could not comprehend Egnatius' closeness to his daughter. Lucretia's batting eyelashes prevented him from granting his wife's wish to sell their Capuan home and complete their relocation to Tarracina. Gratiana wielded no power in her household in front of her daughter's fierce stubbornness. "Once we arrive, Mother, you will be able to sequester yourself, as you always have, within the confines of the villa. Ah, here we are." Lucretia knocked at the unadorned gates; she dispatched three of her slaves to prepare the dormant villa for their arrival.

"Domina." Melitta bowed her head before Lucretia and smiled with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You have a most expectant visitor."

Lucretia smiled back and touched Melitta's shoulder with affection; the girl was given to her at a young age by her father after his return from a successful journey. Despite their limited means, Lucretia afforded a body slave to herself. Another fact her mother resented. "Now? The only person given notice... Gaia!"

Lucretia tightly embraced her childhood friend, who squealed with delight and kissed her passionately on the mouth. Lucretia instantly noted the drabness of her own ivory gown covered in dirt compared to the deep green gown decorated with gold thread Gaia draped over her beautiful form.

"I received news of your arrival and hastened to your villa. I told Melitta I could wait in this dusty old room for days but to be the first to witness my dearest friend's glorious return to Capua!" Gaia turned to Gratiana with a generous smile; the older woman nodded curtly and walked straight to the bath, followed by her slave Vesta. "You seem so… faded, Lucretia. Tarracina does not suit you." Seeing her friend's face fall, Gaia quickly added: "And yet you remain the most beautiful woman in the Republic."

Lucretia clutched Gaia's hand and led her into the main hall. "I come to Capua to lift my spirits by your buoyant presence and considerable charm." She said with a wink.

Melitta brought wine aged in the stores; Gaia greedily drank the cup in two sips. "I have acquired... other means of lifting dowdy clouds."

"Bring water as well." Lucretia turned to her friend while Melitta refilled Gaia's cup and rushed to fulfill her Domina's needs. "How do you accomplish this with your depleted funds? I recall your letters mentioned the many debts left by your grandfather after his passing."

Gaia leaned back on the chaise and stretched seductively. "A suitor of means, of course." Lucretia giggled, already so enthralled to be home. "He brings me..." Gaia hastened to her friend's side and leaned into her ear; Gratiana tended to eavesdrop in their conversations. "Opium. Paired with Falonian wine of the highest quality."

The mention of opium brought a blush to Lucretia's cheeks as memories of intoxicated intimacies from their girlhood flooded her mind. "Opium and wine? Then he must truly love you. Who is this potential husband?" Melitta brought water to her Domina and began to wipe the dust and sweat from travel off Lucretia's skin. The animation on Lucretia's face lifted Melitta's heart; Domina came alive when she visited Capua and trusted friend; she was in a cruel dark mood in Tarracina. Melitta was glad to be through with such a stifled and uneventful existence.

"Horatius Marianus Avitus. He was Aedile once."

Lucretia's eyes widened. "Many years ago! Fuck, the man is a walking corpse by now." The name was familiar; as Aedile, Horatius issued her father a loan to begin the trade of fish, which eventually saw them moved to the shores of Tarracina.

"Even older men have needs to be serviced. And he is a distinguished older gentleman who has kept quite healthy despite his age and favors youthful indulgences." Gaia finished her third cup of wine and snapped her fingers. Her slave emerged with a package. "To which I must insist you accompany me to the games this afternoon."

"Games? My body aches from travel and you would drag me to the arena? I may pitch forward from exhaustion and find myself trampled by the gladiators!" Lucretia knew her argument was futile; Gaia could ask her to kill and she would do so. Gaia was a loyal friend even in most trying times.

"I beg you, Lucretia. I cannot go forth with this match without your approval and Horatius presses for answer." Gaia pleaded, then placed the package in Lucretia's lap. "For me?"

Lucretia smiled as she unwrapped the gift. "I cannot refuse you, Gaia, especially when you are laden with gifts." Under the simple white cloth flashed dark red silk, sumptuous to the touch, embroidered in gold and cream-colored thread. She ran her fingers over the delicate glass beads. "Gaia… this gown is…"

Gaia kissed Lucretia on the lips to silence her and put Lucretia's hand to her heart. "Hardly worthy of a woman who's beauty would put Venus to shame. You tend to forget your worth. Lucretia, you deserve every luxury this world has to offer."

"Your tastes will one day bleed me dry. Five denarii for a whore you did not touch. Two jugs of Cestian wine you did not drink... Pomegranates. Preparing me for the underworld, are you?" Titus paced his office as he reviewed his son's recent purchases. The day was young and much work yet remained undone to prepare for the games. The magistrate requested five of the finest gladiators of the House of Batiatus and Titus feared the coin awarded would be squandered by his irresponsible son.

Quintus hung his head as his father ranted; the muscles in his arms tensing with Titus' every move. Fucking relic, he fumed, why do his words scathe me so? "Gifts to Solonius upon assuming mantle of Dominus in his father's ludus. His friendship is as always invaluable to the House of Batiatus; his family has owned a ludus for five generations."

"A true friendship does not require payment in gifts or gold to sustain itself. Even the most luxurious tokens of affection cannot save you from ruin if trusted friend is betrayed. You treat the man as a cur one moment and a God the next." Titus chided and closely inspected his son. "A newly purchased toga?"

"Must every purchase I make warrant such scrutiny? We sit in the pulvinus this day, Father. The position allows for finer garments than those worn…" Quintus gestured at his father but said no more.

"You may sneer at my clothes, Quintus, but I adorn myself in the toga of a lanista. A man of influence would either scoff at the arrogance of your appearance or be forewarned of your lofty ambition." Quintus' silence raised concern in Titus' chest; he could not divine from where his son's ravenous ambition stemmed. "I know your mind. Do not break words with the magistrate on further advancement of our gladiators. Stay still and silent, smile graciously and you will at last be recognized as the honorable son of an honorable man."

A petite figure stood quietly in the doorway; once noticed, Petronia entered the office with caution. "Apologies. I am unwell." She moved a strand of dark hair off her pale forehead timidly. "May I remain at the villa while you depart for the games?" Petronia looked at her father-in-law pleadingly.

Titus looked to his son for answer. "Well?"

Quintus sighed with frustration. Petronia's respect for Titus' wishes bordered on excess and her very presence irritated him. "As you wish, Petronia." She nodded as a slave would and exited the room. Quintus marveled at the baseness of the woman – she refused a body slave, only wore adornments or colorful garments when guests were present and barely ate food presented to her. Her prayers would bore the Gods themselves to tears and she did not partake in wine. She was withered with self-imposed hunger; he felt nothing when he thrust his cock into her - no tits, no ass. She always seemed a lamb to slaughter when he approached her in bed. "Will she ever be present to witness the greatness of this ludus? Seven games, Seven games in the month since we wed and she yet cowers at the very sight of a sword! She cowers at everything."

"Petronia is a fine woman, one to be respected and emulated. Too many women in Capua are wolves in the guise of sheep. I would rather your wife be a woman who cowers than one who roars." Titus launched into a speech of the virtues his choice of bride possessed, a litany Quintus heard many times. "Petronia is only daughter to a famed importer, not a station too high above ours and one not too low. Her mother bore three sons; she is able give you children. She is meek and subservient. What more do you want of a wife?"

Quintus ran his fingers through his hair and rose from his place in exasperation. "I want a wife, not another slave! I fucked enough slaves but to be compelled to lay with one I have no desire for-"

"Quintus, she is a woman!" Quintus instinctively sat when his father raised his voice. "By virtue of that alone, she is equipped to satisfy you in a manner by which you may have heirs. That should be your only concern and your only desire. Now prepare yourself and remove that ridiculous stole and the cuff. I will attempt to return it to the merchant en route to the arena."

Quintus did as commanded, every obedient act a bitter poison. He wrapped the stole and looked upon his reflection in the shine of the silver cuff. Why did his father see a lowly lanista when he saw such greatness? Would no other person see him for the man he could yet become?