Queen of the Underworld

Chapter 8: Back to the Pits


"Dominus says I am to fight in the Pits tonight," Proserpina told her companions as they broke their fast that morning. Unlike her companions, she seemed none too worried.

"Back to the pits?" Varro asked curiously, lowering his voice so none of the other gladiators could hear him. He knew that the underworld was for those shamed and sentenced to death. It served as a place of entertainment for foul men with sorted intentions. He had once been one of those men before.

"Aye, until I earn the mark."

"If you live long enough to see the day," Spartacus said, a hint of worry in his voice. He dropped his spoon in the bowl and sat it down roughly in front of him. "Why should you fight in the pits when you are training here?"

Proserpina shrugged her shoulders, perplexed at the man's reaction. Before she could respond, she spotted something behind the gladiators that caught her attention. "Seems Pietros has lost control of his flock," she muttered.

Spartacus turned to look at the stray birds and with a swiftness that the Amazon had seen only on the sand, he stood and quickly made his way to the boy's cell. Pigeons fluttered in the hall around them, not wandering too far away as though they did not know they were free.

"Pietros!" Spartacus called out. Varro and Proserpina were close in tow, trailing after the troubled man. When they all had arrived at the room, they found Pietro hanging by his neck from the ceiling. Varro averted his eyes, none too familiar with this method of willful death. Blood he could manage, torn flesh and detached limbs as well, but the young boy's bloated purple face would haunt him.

"He is free from the pain of this mortal world," Proserpina whispered, a phrase that she not too long ago said to Spartacus about his wife. He turned to her, to say something in reply, but could not find the words. Only now did he allow himself to understand her meaning.

Spartacus approached the boy and gently lifted him, removing the noose from around his distorted neck. He laid the body down on a pallet, placing him so he almost looked as though he was sleeping. The three stared down at him silently. No one will die an honorable death in this cursed house, Proserpina thought. Gladiator or slave or otherwise.

"We have to go," she told the others when she shook herself from her thoughts. "Come. Training has started." Varro moved to walk out of the room and Proserpina lightly took Spartacus by the crook of his elbow, trying to lead him away. "There is nothing you can do for him now."

Spartacus allowed her to pull him a few paces before he broke free of her grip and strode quickly to the training field. His eyes were determined, set upon his target that was waiting unsuspecting on the sands.

"GNAEUS!" he bellowed and tackled the gladiator, pounding his face with both fists before they could even reach the ground. Blood came down in harsh streams from the gladiator's nose and mouth, splattering the champion and dirt around them.

"ENOUGH!" Doctore yelled, but Spartacus took no heed to his command. He continued striking the beaten gladiator until he managed to throw Spartacus off of him. "What is this foolishness?" Doctore demanded.

It took Spartacus a few moments to stand, and Gnaeus even longer. "Pietros," Spartacus said while catching his breath, "the boy took his own life." The gladiator walked past his opponent, limping slightly from his hard impact with the man.

"He will be missed," Gnaeus said. "Especially his lips around my cock."

With a fury seen only by those who had been condemned to death at the Champion's hands, Spartacus turned and caught the gladiator by the neck, throwing him off the side of the cliff. Gnaeus's surprised yell of terror echoed through the valley until he landed with an audible splat on the rocks below.

Proserpina ran out onto the sands, stopping beside Spartacus, just short of the edge of the cliff. She toed the side perilously, looking far down beneath her to where the gladiator had fallen.

"You fool," she said, turning to Spartacus. She looked over her shoulder, back at the other gladiators, all still too shocked to move from their places. She tried to be angry, but could not. Instead, she feared for the Champion. "Now three lives shall be lost today."

-X-x-X-

Proserpina sat on the dirt floor, arms heavy with chains. The roar of the spectators was only a thundering in her ears as she tried to block out the noise. It seemed like she had been in the dark cell for hours, before a man came and freed her from her bonds.

"Enter Proserpina! Dread Queen of the Underworld! Goddess of Death! Cursed Lady of Hell who blesses us with blood!"

Proserpina pulled the silver mask over her face as she walked out onto the dirt pit. She wondered how the arena would be different than this. How the sun would feel against her flesh instead of the dank air below the earth. She wondered how Spartacus found himself there before, the Champion of Capua in a place like this. Surely, it was below him, but Proserpina was a goddess here.

"What weapons shall the gods bless them with? Or curse them with empty hands? Choose your fate!"

Proserpina's opponent was just as tall as the Amazon, but her body was smaller. Her dark skin shone like polished obsidian in the firelight as she moved swiftly to her place in the center of the ring. She pulled the card for a spear. Proserpina pulled brass knuckles. The crowd whooped and hollered at her disadvantage, but it was no matter. She would disarm the woman and end this quickly. She was in no mood for a show.

"We have a single rule - only one survives."