Queen of the Underworld

Chapter 6: The Warrior's Way

"What else do the Gods tell you about my future?"

"That you will never love another woman."

-X-x-X-

When the sun descended from the sky, the gladiators communed on the sand. A few carried torches, to light their way in the dark night, Proserpina included. And they waited, still and silent, until Spartacus carried out his wife, wrapped in pure white gauze. The gladiators stood, watching and mourning with their champion. When the woman was laid down, Varro handed Spartacus his torch. The gladiator looked down at the woman for a moment, before he reluctantly lit the pyre, burning the woman's body into naught but ash.

"Your wife is in a better place," Proserpina said as she sat down beside Spartacus in his cell. He placed his head on her chest, surprising the girl. Apprehensively, she put a hand on his head and gently stroked his hair. "She is free from the pain of this mortal world."

"Are you saying that she is better off dead?" he asked.

"I am saying that she is better off because she is not here," the girl explained.

The man raised his head and stared at Proserpina. "She would be better off in my arms, no matter where we were," Spartacus told her, and the Amazon could not tell whether it was a yell or a whisper. She said nothing in reply, but only shook her head. "You know nothing of love," the man stated simply.

"You are right in that," Proserpina agreed, looking down at the dirty stubs that could barely be considered fingernails. "But I know much about death. I have felt it in my hands, tasted it on my tongue." The girl looked back at Spartacus. "And I know that in the moment death is found, all know peace."

The gladiator twirled the stolen Thracian knife in his fingers. "What of those left behind? Where is the peace that they seek?"

Proserpina sighed. "It is never found; not while their heart is still beating." The two stared at each other for a moment, their contact only broken when an unnoticed Varro spoke.

"That is unwise," he said, motioning to the knife. "If the guards were to see you with it -"

"What could they do to me that hasn't already been done?" Spartacus bent his head again. "I never should have left her."

"You did not leave her," Proserpina whispered, close to his ear. "She was taken from you."

"Before I left for war, she asked me not to go," he explained.

"You are a warrior," the girl said. "It is the way."

"You did what you thought was right, to protect her," Varro added. "You should toss that over the cliff," he said of the stolen weapon. "Best to be done with such thoughts." The gladiator clasped a hand over Spartacus's and stood up to leave. With a nod of his head, Varro gestured for Proserpina to follow him.

-X-x-X-

"Do you think he would jump?" Proserpina asked Varro as they watched Spartacus kneeling at the edge of the cliff. The morning was hot and it felt as if her flesh was baking under the scalding Roman sun. The light shone off of the Champion's glistening back, but he seemed not to notice.

"No, I have no worries of that," Varro told her.

The girl jumped at the sudden crack of Doctore's whip. "The day's training begins. Pair up! Spartacus, you face me."

Varro and Prosperina took their positions in front of each other. The Amazon rolled her wrist, swinging the wooden swords around in a circle. "I have never seen a man so broken," she said to her partner when she was sure Spartacus could not hear her.

Varro grunted as he lunged at the girl. "Spartacus is strong," he told her, swinging his sword, almost connecting with the girl's neck. "You worry for nothing."

Proserpina could feel her face turning red. "I am not worried, only curious." The girl went to hit Varro in the nose with the hilt of her sword, but he quickly pushed her away with his shield. She stumbled back, but did not fall. "What other than a wound could cut a man so deeply?"

"It is love, Amazon." He repeated Spartacus's words from the night before with a smile. "Something you know nothing of."

The girl tried to attack Varro, but he quickly moved out of the way. "I was not taught to love," she said and kicked the man in the chest. "I was taught to fight."

Varro groaned but did not let his lack of breath stop him. He made like he was going to thrust his sword into the girl's stomach, but instead, swiped his leg under hers so that she fell on her back. She laid in the dirt for a moment before the gladiator held out his hand to help her up. As she stood, Spartacus passed the two, and she stared after him, her eyes following the champion into the ludus. Varro put a hand on her shoulder. "Love is not something that is taught. It is something that you feel."