Thanks to myparamour for her amazing ability to bear with me and help me ^^
Half a day had passed and now the gladiators began to enjoy their well-deserved break, complete with stew and bread, luckily enough. Spartacus watched as the cook ladled the grotesque liquid into his bowl before noticing the face before him. He spooned an extra portion to the champion and smiled wide, revealing his rotting teeth.
"Sheep entrails with beets! Euclid's finest dish! All thanks to your glorious victory over Theokoles." Ashur clapped his hand to his arm with a firm grip.
"I make no such boasts," Spartacus simply replied, as he attempted to side-step him, to no success.
"Such modesty. A refreshing change from the previous champion. Our ludus truly fortunate. If ever a need arises; food, wine..." Ashur leaned, and spoke in a whisper, "perhaps something to quench a darker thirst..."
"I need nothing from you," Spartacus silenced the man, and headed toward more worthy company.
"What did the shit want?" Varro asked.
"Nothing of importance. How did you fare?"
Varro hesitated and frowned, as he did not understand the meaning of his friends words.
"...In your game of dice and bones."
"Poorly, as I often have. I will balance the loss at next chance –" His sentence fell short has a pigeon fluttered up on the table, lifting a small amount of dirt at the waving of its wings. Varro shoved it away, and both men at the table paused as they spotted Euclid tried to thrust off several more pigeons that had endangered his serving table.
"It would seem Pietros has lost control of his flock," Varro remarked.
"Then we shall seek cause for such acts from the man himself."
Spartacus moved through the corridor, followed by Varro, as the pigeons scampered around them. The air surrounding the Pietros' chamber became heavy and dreadful. He looked upward and stopped, finding not the strength to enter. As Varro approached he froze at the sight.
With a soft, sad voice, Varrow spoke, "the boy has freed himself."
Pietros hung lifeless from a beam in the ceiling. The image caused Spartacus' blood to boil, eyes fill with rage. He stormed off towards the training square, as Varro desperately attempted to reach him.
In the ludus Gnaeus stood with a smirk, peering down at Rhaskos as he touched the tip of his trident spear to his face.
"Gnaeus!"
As Gnaeus turned Spartacus slammed into him, both men falling hard to the ground. The fellow gladiators laughed and cheered at the unexpected violence, as Spartacus thrust his fists up and over again at the stunned and bloody face of Gnaeus. He finally was able to shove Spartacus away, but scrambled to his feet, as he tried to recover his senses. Spartacus waited not a moment before striking again, his eyes wild with rage, and fists claiming revenge. Spartacus thrust Gnaeus back, both coming dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. Then he reared back, decided to finish him off, but the crack of a so familiar whip stopped him.
"Enough!" Doctore demanded, coiling his whip in his hands. The square fell into silence, as no man was brace enough to defy the orders of Doctore. "What is this foolishness?"
"Pietros. The boy has taken his own life" Spartacus explained, with hatred.
"He will be missed" Gnaeus smirked, "especially his lips around my cock!"
Spartacus felt his entire body tremble with a savage rage he had never thought existed in him. He swung with all his strength, launching his powerful fist at Gnaeus' jaw, lifting the man off his feet and sending him over the cliff, soon to meet with the rocks below. No words were spoken.
***
From the balcony the Romans had watched the fight, motionless. At the first sign of brawl Batiatus ran towards the porch, quickly followed by his wife and their guests. As soon as Gnaeus fell down the cliff, Batiatus left them, cursing and swearing.
"Still having troubles with the Thracian, Lucretia?" Ilithyia asked, with a provocative smile.
"The pet proves hard to tame" the woman simply replied, the distaste hung on her hips.
Cassia smiled, "I find him very interesting, rising from shit to Champion, he must be truly blessed by the Gods. Wouldn't you say?"
"He's nothing but a FUCKING ANIMAL!" Ilithyia screamed, storming off with Lucretia following closely behind.
Cassia leaned against the railing, sighing as her companion poured her some wine. Since she was born Cassia struggled with everyone's almost-obsessive attitude towards her father, the illustrious Senator Albinius. As always expected of her, she failed where her sister had prospered. Ilithyia was a proper Roman woman, devoted to her land, family and husband, while Cassia had none of those things nor possessed those valued qualities . Her only comfort was an unexpected former-slave who worked for her, in exchange for coin and shelter. The girl, a few seasons younger than herself, had long light-brown hair that fell in waves, and the most beautiful shade of hazel eyes she had ever seen. Beauty beyond compare, Cassia had to admit.
"Rhea," she called, extending her arms outward. She seemed hesitant, for that was not a proper action for a Roman to take, but said nothing, as she knew Cassia always did as she pleased, regardless of what people might think. Rhea noticed Doctore's staring eyes as she spoke, "we should avoid curious gaze, people might talk…"
"Then let them talk!" Cassia replied, with a warm smile. "Can I no longer embrace my dearest friend?"
Rhea smiled in return, concealing the affliction that emerged by the second. The ludus was a dammed place she hoped to avoid, but its twine pulled her downwards once more, giving shallow meaning to her freedom.
Batiatus was bursting with rage. One if his most notorious gladiators was dead, killed by the fucking Champion of Capua.
"This morning I boasted the top Retiarius in all of Capua! Now I possess nothing more than bones and brains scattered upon the rocks!"
"Apologies."
"Fuck your apologies! I shall have return for the value lost! The price of the man will be subtracted til the remainder is balanced!"
"As you see fit, Dominus." Spartacus replied, the indifference clear in his voice. Batiatus paced back and forth through the room, growing more and more agitated with the man.
"All of this because of what? Pietros? He was nothing. Shit from a whore."
"He was a man. His life had worth."
He waves his hand in front of his face, brushing off his comment as meaningless. "Half a coin at most. Yet Gnaeus was a gladiator! Years of training, each mounting to exorbitant cost. That is true worth!"
"He did not deserve to live." Spartacus added with anger. Batiatus, growing sick of the other man's boldness, raise hand in a fist, punching him hard across the face.
"I alone decide who lives! Not you! Not a fucking slave!" His hands flew to his hips as he fought to reign in his frustration. "My generosity has been boundless, yet you defy me still." He paused, now hesitant to share the news he once greeted with excitement. "Good Mercato's games are fast approaching. He has extended an invitation for you to fight in the primus, portraying his grandfather, Marcus Minucius Rufus. I suspect you have heard of him, known for his aid in the defeat of the Thracian hordes."
"...I will not fight."
Batiatus had made up his mind and would not allow his slave to defy him. "I expect you to fight as a loyal Roman. Or die a Thracian."
Naevia stood over the dead form of Pietros. Her eyes filled with tears, as she observed more minutely the red welts around his neck, from where he hung himself. Crixus watched her from the bed where he recovered from his wounds received at the hands of the Shadow of Death, not understanding the meaning or reason for her tears.
"You shed tears for the boy?"
She nodded, shifting her weight against her feet. "His passing saddens me."
"The boy was weak without Barca to protect him."
She turned and looked towards him, the hurt present in her eyes. "Not all of us can be strong." As she turned to exit her body collided with that of Spartacus, being lead towards the Medicus, needing his wounds to be tended to.
"Still making friends, are we?"
"A minor disagreement with Gnaeus."
"From which you emerge the mangled cunt. Did his little net prove too fierce an opponent?"
He scoffed, "question the man himself. If you can scrape enough of him from the cliffs for reply"
Crixus lifted his head off the cot in surprise, "Gnaeus is dead? What cause have you to claim his life?"
"My reasoning lies forever silent" Spartacus said, as his eyes fell on Pietros' body.
"Your actions betray us all. Gnaeus was a gladiator!" Crixus lifted his arm, showing the brand they shared. "A brother"
"He was no brother of mine!"
"You swore the oath. Every man here is your brother, deserved of an honorable death in the arena. I am shamed to have fought by your side"
"You speak as if you had choice in the matter"
"I did. I chose not to end you in the arena and be done with your shit. A decision I presently regret." Crixus dared, locking eyes with Spartacus, expecting a fight or harsh words in return.
Crixus' words came as a revelation to him, the grief he had presently forgotten over the recent death of his wife rushed to the forefront of his mind. "As do I."
***
Gaius Claudius Glaber had arrived as the sun set upon the horizon. His impatience and arrogance soon affected both hosts and guests, who fell in ill mood. After supper, Cassia had decided to remove herself away from such unwanted company, wishing to spend the rest of the evening alone, gazing the stars from a balcony. She unfortunately found her plans shifted, as undesired presence followed her to her wanted destination.
"Why do you stand alone? Where is your slave?" Glaber asked, as he approached
"I sent Rhea to rest, thoughts of being alone appearing welcome tonight."
"There is no reason why you should be alone," he smiled tenderly, as she turned to face him. "I bring offers of wine and enjoyable presence."
Cassia's body tensed at their proximity. Long ago she had desired him to want her but now, as the opportune moment presented itself, she felt no want to engage in past thoughts. "I would rather enjoy the wine." She snatched the small clay jar from his hand, and walked away, in a final warning. "Alone."
Spartacus' cell was shrouded in silence while he fingered Numerius' Thracian dagger in his hand, letting the coolness of its metal run along his skin. Any memory he still had of Sura was blurred by the image of her bleeding to death in his arms. For the first time, he considered using the dagger for something more than revenge, for relief. His relieve.
Suddenly a loud noise caught his attention, as he noticed someone at the square. He hid the dagger before walking outside, as Sura's words echoed in his mind. There is always reason to live.
A woman stood at the edge of the cliff. A roman. At first sight she seemed to be Ilithyia, and the thought of her falling of the ledge proved to be a welcomed one, but as she turned to face him he saw someone else. The latest guest in the house of Batiatus.
"I would offer the Champion of Capua some wine, but the jar slipped from grasp." She smiled, turning her attention again to the immensity of the night.
He walked slowly towards her, not knowing her intentions. "It's not wise to stand at the edge, you might trip and fall to unwelcomed death."
"I do not fear death" she smiled at him, but the underlying sadness did not go unnoticed. Spartacus stood beside her, both sets of eyes gazing at view without a word for a moment until Cassia finally broke the silence. "How does it feel, to take a man's life in the arena?"
"Do you enjoy witnessing the deaths?"
"No. I find my mind wanders to what they must be thinking before their life is taken from them."
He shifted, his eyes lingering on the practice swords that had been left out in the open. "Do you wish a lesson?" he walked towards them, noticing that since Pietros' death proper care had not been paid to them. He grasped two and handed one to the woman standing before him.
Spartacus swung first, one easily avoided which she dodged perfectly and, for his surprise, thrust one herself.
"Have you ever managed a sword?" he asked, amazed, as they stood face to face, only swords between them. Instead of answering, Cassia revolved her blade in his, separating the weapons, and then again she attacked. But her moves were easily read. He ducked from her attack, slipped behind her, and pressed the blade gently against her neck.
Spartacus slid his free hand down her side and grabbed her one, guiding her two fingers upwards. "The Missio. It means you surrender to the wish of the crowd and the desires of the ones standing in the pulvinus."
Cassia's heart-rate quickened as she shifted her body and looked at him. "I will not surrender."
Suddenly a voice shouted, as her companion entered the square. "Cassia, come quick, Ilithyia seeks you, Glaber is leaving"
Cassia released his hand, and before walking away she turned to face Spartacus one last time "You fight tomorrow, at the games? He nodded, and she gave him a soft smile. "Then I shall sheer for your victory"
"A dangerous thought to share for one who stands with Glaber's wife."
"There is only one thing I fear in this life, and it is not the man"