Spartacus: Blood and Sand

'The Harpy of Corinth'

Chapter 2- 'Sister'

I was silent, never taking my eyes off Barca for a single moment. He looked at me and smirked, "This one is too small, I will have something the size of a man," He taunted pointing his wooden spear at me. I stepped forward with my wooden gladii ready to fight. The sweat from my palms was greasing the grips I clinched. I knew I was at a disadvantage against a man of his size and his skill in combat, but every giant can fall. It seems the fact that I am a woman means nothing. I do not care. I am a warrior.

It has been three days since I arrived in the ludus. My back is stinging from the many lashings of Doctore's whip, "Strong words, Carthaginian, let's see if you have the fight to stand with them," I attacked first, even with me first strikes I knew I was over matched, but that didn't stop me. I am going to conquer this beast by any means necessary. I remember everything my father taught me. My father was a man who willing went against the old code. The ways of the warrior are not restricted to men alone.

My head is shaved, my body is beaten and bruised. Dominus Batiatus was watching from above with his wife Lucretia as his gladiators trained in the burning summer sun. This man, this man named Barca is fast for his size. I thought I would be facing a lumbering fool, but he was unlike anything I had ever faced. That included soldiers from the Roman Legions. His skill with a spear and shield could make him fit for a Greek phalanx. I had to show the dominus that I have the skills to be an equal among the men.

I can hear my father's voice echoing in my head, telling me to keep my legs bent, never take my eyes off my opponent, keep your attacks constant and relentless and never let your opponent pit you on the defensive. I am the only gladiatrix in the ludus, when my time comes I will face men in the arena. Although the men mock me and show scorn, I was not deterred by them. I kept my ears deaf to their insults, and my cunt away from their advances. This was my first step toward finding my place among them.

Barca was blocking my every attack with his shield and spear. He swept me off my feet with great skill and ease, but I will never give in to him. My back was against the ground. Time seemed to slow down as his spear came at my face, but time sped up as I blocked the wooden spear to the side and got back on my feet with the grace of a dryad. She dances in the forest to for tell the humans passerby that the coming of spring is near. The springs of the ludus flow not with water, but of sweat, tears, and blood.

I got inside of his spear and shield and hit him in the nose with the pommel of my sword. It didn't knock him to the ground, but he stopped the blood. He didn't come at me like a raging beast, instead he laughed and spat out blood. A lot of men would not look at this lightly, and take it as an insult to their cock, "You look like a boy, you fight like a man, but even a woman can have a cock between her legs," He joked, did I earn his respect or was he taunting me? I wasn't sure. I felt I left an impression at the least.

I kept my guard up none the less against this impressive man of a warrior, "I will make a pact with you, Harpy, if you can grant me proper contest, you will have my respect," I knew this man's feelings were not of my kind. His feelings were for a slave boy, an Egyptian named Pietros. A delicate boy he is. My thighs would most likely rip him in half. Barca charged at me head-on with the rage of a lion, "Now show me you have a cock between your legs!" He yelled, and I was ready for him this time around.

I trapped his spear between my wooden swords, but he lifted me over his shoulder like a bag of grain, but I landed on my feet and swung a slash at the back of his head with both of my swords. As if the had seen this attack coming one thousand times before my time in the ludus, he weaved his head around and my blade struck the ends of his many flowing serpents of black hair. He spun around my back and attacked with his shield. I caught his shield with one sword and attacked with the other to his cheek.

He moved his spear up to parry my attack, "Good," He complimented plainly, and added to his words by grabbing my wrist and throwing me down to the dusty ground. He struck my stomach with his spear like a club. I growled and cringed in pain, "but not good enough," I spat blood in his face and clutched my stomach in pain where he had struck me. I was hacking and coughing blood on the ground and crawling on my hands and knees. I got back on my feet the best I could, but I fell down to the dry ground.

As he walked away, I got up on my own power. I stumbled down and held myself up with my pathetic excuse for a sword. My body was in pain all over, but I stood up none the less. For that is the law of war, 'take what you can, give nothing back'. There was pain with my every footstep, "I went at you with all my strength, yet here you still stand, you have the makings of a true gladiator, sister," Barca said, even Doctore seemed impressed, but he would not show it. After all, Doctore trains men to be gladiators.

I crossed my swords and bowed to him. To me, he was a brother. I will not give him my body, but only my hand in friendship, "Just because you don't have a cock between your legs, I will not treat you any different from the others, you have accomplished nothing," He said with scorn, once again putting the whip to my back, "BACK TO TRAINING!" He commanded to the others. I tasted my own blood. It was a taste I had long forgotten. That night, I looked out my cell window at the stars in the evening sky.

Suddenly, there came a clatter from my cell bars, it was Ashur, Batiatus's bookkeeper. Even just looking in his eyes, it is hard to tell which has more morals, him or a serpent, "Whatever you need, Ashur provides," He said holding what appeared to be a helmet. I have heard that in the language of the Romans this type of helmet is called a Cassis Crista. It had a face guard with twelve holes on each of the top corners for which to see out of. There was an iron band that separated the faceguard into two halves.

As he presented me with the helmet. I studied the helmet and looked up at him. It was light, not too heavy like the helmets I am used to wearing, "There must be a reason for your generosity Ashur," I asked as he left my cell and walked down the hallway. Then it hit me like a mule kicking me in the head, "when do I fight?" I asked him, but he didn't turn around to answer me. His cheeky attitude started to annoy me until he finally answered. I do not take well to serpents hiding in the grass waiting to strike at prey.

"You fight tomorrow, rest well, cunt," He said, taking away the helmet from my hands leaving the holding area. I fight tomorrow. Questions began running through my head. Who was I going to face? I have only been here for three days, is there a reason I have been chosen to fight so soon? Does the dominus want of me? For many of my kind, once one gets out onto the area, that would be the moment they draw their last living breath. I suffered myself to be whipped, burned, and beaten all for these moments.