Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Spartacus. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love.
Note: I learned recently that gladiators were classified into different categories by way of their weapons and armor and I just thought that was an interesting concept to include here.
Chapter Five - The Brotherhood
The group had piled into a set of ox drawn carts in the dawn hours and set off for the arena before most of the villa was awake. That being said, Harry had still managed to give the ever watching Gaia a flirtatious wink before joining the others. After a while though, the barriers of rank broke down from the boredom and the men, brothers and newbies alike, actually began to talk amongst each other. It was an interesting concept, being so cordial with men that might end up taking their lives going forward.
Soon enough though, Quintus opened the back flap and ordered Crixus out. The two were alone as the cart kept trundling on for an hour or so before he returned and Harry was called out in turn. As he left the cart and fell into a fast walk to keep pace with it he saw that he was alone with his dominus, while the man's father rode ahead with the ox driver.
"Dominus." He greeted.
"Harry." The Roman acknowledged him with a nod. "You show much potential in the practice yard, as does Crixus. Enough to earn even my father's approval; not an easy thing to do as life has so rudely taught me. Yet what you are about to face is far from the same thing. Stress on a whole other level, a crowd screaming for your blood, and an opponent who will not hesitate to kill you. This is your test to enter the Brotherhood and Barca will not allow a subpar man to be amongst its members. I wanted to make sure you felt confident about this before taking to the sands."
"You need not worry, Dominus, I will be a brother soon enough."
"I believe you." Batiatus was quiet for a while before he added, "I make it a habit of knowing the goals of my greatest warriors. It makes… incentivizing you all easier. Gannicus is rather base and straightforward in his desires. He craves fame, wine, and women. Oenomaus wanted honor. Crixus wants to be a champion without equal. But I cannot figure out what you want in this life. What are your goals, Briton? Or would you prefer Celt? We have both names for your people after all."
Harry didn't say anything other than, "Briton is fine, Dominus."
"I could order you to tell me."
The wizard sighed. "I do not think you would like the answer."
"Ah, you want freedom then." Quintus nodded, earning a shocked tilt of the head from his slave. "You think you're the first one I've had in my ludus? Many in your position want the same and I do not begrudge you that so long as you serve me well until then. After all, you wouldn't be the first gladiator to perform well enough to earn freedom and that would only shine favorably on my house and its training methods. However, I have to wonder what you would even do if you got it."
"Pardon, Dominus?"
Quintus offered a wry smile and elaborated. "If freedom came your way, what would you do with it? Do you have appreciable skills you could apply to an occupation other than fighting? Do you have contacts in the empire that could offer you a letter of recommendation? Do you have any gold set aside to support yourself?"
"Where is all of this going, Dominus?"
"A proposition." The thin man grinned, "Should you someday win your freedom, I would like you to remain under my roof and continue fighting for me. I would take a small fee from your earnings to continue paying for the training, food, facilities, and equipment, but the rest of the winnings would be yours to do with as you please."
"Why would I ever agree to that?"
"Several reasons, Briton." Quintus held up several fingers and began counting down. "First, you are one of the most naturally gifted fighters I've ever seen, and Oenomaus agrees with that assessment. We both suspect that once you get a taste of the arena you won't soon want it to end. Second, it takes gold to succeed at anything in life and you won't earn it for yourself until you are a free man. Third, even if you become free Crixus will still be mine, and I cannot see you leaving him alone while you take off to parts unknown. Fourth… Gaia remains in my house, and if you fought for me in that situation you would be able to support her, and court her, as a free man. One she wouldn't need to sneak into her rooms at night like a secret. You would have the full freedom of the villa."
Harry pointedly didn't react to that last statement, instead keeping his eyes locked on the road. "I-"
"You need not be bashful, Harry, nor attempt to deny it. Lucretia tells me everything that happens in our home."
"I am under no illusions, Dominus. What happens between me and Gaia is not love. Aye there is kindness and affection, but I am only a slave to her. Far below her rank."
"That may someday change." Quintus shook his head despairingly, "Try as I might I can't see myself getting rid of her anytime soon, seeing how fond of her my wife is, so who knows what might happen. Also, rank means less to Gaia than the ability to support her, trust me. Free gladiators can make a great deal of money with the right promotion; a trick I am rather good at. I'm only suggesting that you consider your future and 'all' the possibilities that it might hold for you."
They spoke for a while more of training, tips for the coming fight, and what to expect upon arrival, and then Harry was returned to the cart's interior to think more on what had just been said. It honestly annoyed him that it had taken that meeting to reveal a gaping hole in his plans for the future. The wizard had been so focused on the idea of freedom that he had indeed not even considered what he'd do with it once he had it. And the more he thought on that subject the more appeal Batiatus' offer held. The man wasn't wrong when he'd noted how limited the options were in the world for a man such as him at that time in history. In Rome anyone that wasn't Roman was already at a disadvantage. A former slave with no prospects was even more so.
He stayed consumed in his thoughts the rest of the ride to Capua and soon enough he and Crixus were armoring up and helping each other stretch as the crowd beyond their cells cheered on the early morning fighters. As it stood, Harry and his brother were clad remarkably different from each other.
Crixus fought in the style of a Myrmillo, with a curved sword, great rectangular shield, scaled arm guards, and a rather large brass helmet sat on his head. For his part Harry fought as a dimachaerus which meant he carried two swords and was bare chested, making use of arm and leg guards while his usual wrap covered his important bits. He'd been offered a plumed helmet but the warrior didn't like the limited field of view it gave him. In combat he couldn't afford to have that many chances to break eye contact.
As the time approached ten Oenomaus came to retrieve Harry first, offering him his swords and a few words of wisdom. "These are the words my doctore gave me for my first time in the arena. The sands will either make or break you. Live to defeat your opponent and you shall receive honor in your ludus as a member of the Brotherhood. Die and you shall instead honor the hallowed ground with your blood." The stomping of feet and wild calls above seemed to double in ardor and Oenomaus smiled at the Briton that had so easily become his friend. "They have just announced you, Harry, and the crowd is eager to see new blood fall, but I do not think that will be the case." He clasped his hands over the paler man's shoulders and confided, "I have presided over your training, seen the strength and speed you possess, and I know the honor that is in your heart." The hands raised to his head and pulled it forth to rest their foreheads together, "I want nothing more than to call you brother, so go and make it a reality."
"Yes, doctore." Harry smiled at his mentor and jogged over to the thick wooden door that led into the arena proper where he knocked twice and watched it open for him. Slowly coming into focus as a result was a wide open space of sand ringed by a high wall, and above it all was the screaming masses of Capua, each one raging and hollering in expectation of the carnage soon to come. As he readied himself and stepped upon the battlefield he took note of Barca already waiting, spear and small shield at the ready.
'Alright, Harry, remember what Oenomaus told you. Block out the rest and focus on the fighter set before you.' It wasn't easy though as the more progress he made stepping forth, the more people actually looked at him, and the more the jeers turned into interested cheers, and Harry had to admit that he rather enjoyed that. Never in his life had people actually cheered his name. Sure there was the tri-wizard tournament, but that didn't count in his opinion seeing as most of those people had been cursing him and calling him a cheater before that. He was a relative blank slate to these people.
He halted in the center and Barca made a few practice lunges and swings, waving him to do the same 'Ah, to give the crowd an idea what they're getting' and then they both halted to face the VIP stage where apparently Titus Batiatus had been given the honor of MC.
"People of Capua," The old man stood tall and addressed his people, practically radiating pride and joy to be doing so. "I stand here, humbled, before you all. My home and my heart, too long parted from chest by absence. In gratitude I present the next offering from the House of Batiatus. Entering newly into the arena, a virgin upon its sands, I give you… Harry of Britannia!" Interested clapping and cheering followed before Titus raised his hands once more. "And as for his opponent, here to test his mettle and find his worth, a veteran and warrior unmatched in skill and honor, I give you… Barca, God of the Spear!" This time the cheering was thunderous in intensity, and the Briton honestly couldn't blame them. His opponent was resplendent in his helmet and stage presence, waving his arms and driving the people into a frenzy.
It was as he watched his foe amp up the crowd work that the wizard remembered something he'd learned in his past classes and the brief snippets of movies he'd been able to glimpse over Dudley's shoulder between his chores. The greatest gladiators, the ones whose names were recorded throughout history, weren't the best fighters. No, they were the ones that drew in the crowds. The ones that could inspire them. If he wanted to earn his freedom then he needed to be the best, he needed the people to love him.
So with a practiced flip of the wrists he drove his swords point first into the ground, spread his arms wide, and bellowed, "Capua! I dedicate this fight to you!" This time he was the one with the thunderous applause, and Barca gave him a nod of respect before smacking his chest and reclaiming it for himself. Titus let them go back and forth a few moments before shushing everyone again.
"Capua, bless you all for bringing life into this old soul once more. Now to you brave men below, Begin!"
At once Harry locked eyes with Barca, went low, and charged in to mitigate the reach of the spear. His opponent was ready for this however and started using his weapon as a quarterstaff, turning, spinning, whipping, and doing everything in his power to nail the wizard with the hard wood of the haft. Having trained with the man enough, Harry knew that contact with such a blow would break bone at the least.
Only his practice at reading surface thoughts kept Harry away from the rapid blows and jabs as he ducked, weaved, and rolled to stay clear before hopping back and skipping across the sand like a boxer, waving to the crowd and blowing kisses as he did. He thought he remembered hearing about especially cocky fighters in his own time doing things like this and it seemed to have the desired effect as more and more people began cheering for him once more. Sadly this act took his eyes away from Barca and the man almost landed a spear slice before Harry noticed him in the knick of time and jumped out of the way.
From there he and the bigger man traded blows for a while. They clashed, butted heads (literally), and traded barbed words before Harry had enough and stared deep into Barca's eyes. It was time. In a blink the spearmen lunged with a low guard stab and Harry stepped aside, narrowly dodging to the eyes of the audience, before slamming one sword through the center of the weapon to nullify its threat and sitting the other tightly against his foe's neck and resting it there.
The big man stared wide eyed at his apparent defeat and started raising a hand for Missio, only for Harry to shake his head in the negative. While Barca stared questioningly at him the wizard slowly stepped away and tossed his swords aside before addressing the crowd. "Are you entertained!? I am not. This is a great man, a great opponent, and I can see that he has more fight in him still. Isn't that right, Barca?" He gestured grandly to the man and he stood back up thankfully, loudly agreeing with his junior.
So Harry turned to the entry door where he knew Oenomaus was watching. "We need caestus!"
A moment later the door opened and two sets of heavy leather wraps studded throughout with metal were sent tumbling out into the sand. So Harry ran over and tossed a set to Barca before hurriedly wrapping them around his wrists and knuckles and getting into a classic boxer's stance. In turn, Barca seemed to be favoring a wrestler's position. Body low, hands out front and ready to intercept any blows that came his way. Interesting, but futile.
Utilizing his greater mobility Harry danced around the man, baited a shot, and then surprised him by sending a kick directly into his ribs that had him tumbling into the ground before rolling up again. At his querying look the Briton said, "Just because I asked for caestus doesn't mean I'm only going to use 'them'". And seeming to get the message Barca lunged at him, gripped his waist and sent the smaller man tumbling to the ground, attempting to roll around and put him into a headlock only for Harry to slip out of his grip like an eel, grip the arm attempting to trap him, and lock his legs over Barca's torso, twisting hard. The big man screamed and let him go at once, backing away with a newly dislocated shoulder and one good arm raised to defend himself.
It was no use as Harry closed the distance and this time he did use the caestus, raining down body shots until all defense failed and the final finisher came with an uppercut that sent Barca flying back and crashing into the dirt. When the dust finally cleared the man was unconscious and Harry stood tall above him, raising his fists high and chanting "Victory!"
"Harry!"
"Harry!"
"Harry!"
The wizard absorbed the praise, the adulation, the thrill of dominance, and in spite of everything he'd expected, he loved it. The fight had been invigorating, the win glorious, but the crowd screaming his name in triumph was on a whole other level. It lit a fire inside him and by the gods he wanted more of it.
Meanwhile Quintus was looking down at his acquisition making the crowd his bitch and smiling like a loon as Lucretia held his arm and practically vibrated with joy. "You proved yourself right, husband. The people love him."
"Yes, and father sees it all." Quintus chuckled. "Now he cannot any longer deny that my methods are in fact effective and I can hold my own as a lannista. The man can return to Sicilia with confidence and our home will soon be under our control once more. As it should be."
Meanwhile Titus himself was having a completely different thought. 'This is rather impressive. Who knew Quintus had such potential in him to choose good stock? I think I will stick around and see what else he can do.'
A short time later Crixus defeated Auctus with admittedly less fanfare than his brother, but just as much skill, and he too proved his worth while leaving his opponent alive. The Batiatus ludus lost none of its number that day. A fact that clearly annoyed Tullius, if his pinched face up in the noble's box was anything to go by.
So it was that as night fell, and the warriors returned to the ludus, they all clustered together in the training sands with the other brothers gathered to observe as Quintus stoked a fire and heated a brand with a capital B to glowing red tinge as he addressed all those gathered. "Brothers of the ludus, today two amongst you have returned victorious, champions of their matches, and thus worthy to take on the brand."
"Awoo!" The men cheered.
"Yes, Harry and Crixus have proven their mettle and now there is but one step left to go." He looked to the men in question and said, "Kneel, and give your oaths to this house."
As one the Briton and the Gaul knelt and chanted, "I swear to be burned, chained, beaten, or die by the sword in pursuit of honor in the arena."
Quintus grinned, retrieved the brand and pressed it firmly into each of their right forearms before proclaiming loudly, "Welcome to the Brotherhood!" As he took his leave the lannista saw how the men swarmed the newcomers with many hugs and exclamations of welcome. It was a sight that always warmed something in him that he could not put a name to and it never got old.
Up on the landing above Lucretia and Gaia observed and the latter noted, "Harry proves himself once more. In and out of the arena." The tilt of her words at the end made her meaning apparent without need for much thought toward decryption.
"Gaia, you speak more and more of the man. Is he truly that impressive in bed that he must remain always on your mind?"
"Oh Lucy, you have no idea." Gaia purred before leaning closer to speak under her breath, "There is a trick he can do with his tongue. I don't know how he does it but I swear it vibrates so delightfully that oblivion calls within moments."
"T-That's so i-interesting, Gaia." Lucretia shivered from more than just the cold at the thought. One quickly brushed aside of course as it was improper to think of anyone but her husband that way. "B-But he is still only a slave."
"Yes, sadly. Otherwise he would be perfect."
Back down in the training yard Barca was the last to greet his new brothers and he took Harry aside for a moment alone. "You fought well, Harry, and you gave me the chance to show skill instead of defeating me in seconds as I now know you could. Gratitude."
"None is needed."
"And yet it is given." Barca clapped him on the shoulder. "I welcome you, brother." and he took his leave.
Nearby Harry could see Auctus doing the same with Crixus so he made his way over to the man. "Well, brother, we made it. We're officially gladiators now."
"I know." Crixus eyed his arm and winced as he ran a finger over the puckered and burned skin. "It still hardly feels real."
"Give it time and it will, I am sure. Now if you'll excuse me, Oenomaus is offering me a bowl of food over there and I think for once it'll be clean. See you in the morning, Crixus."
Meanwhile
Quintus hated being summoned to his father's office. It always felt like he was facing down a magistrate determined to levy a guilty verdict against him. A matter made worse considering that not even two weeks prior the office had been his own. Titus was waiting behind the desk, reading over a few reports by lamplight but put them down when he saw his son enter.
With a level stare he said, "Today I watched a pair of newcomers completely destroy two gladiators I considered among the best of my men. It was an… interesting experience, and it would appear that I underestimated Crixus, Harry, and your ability to spot quality talent where others miss it. For my doubt in you, I apologize."
Quintus was floored by this admission. His father never apologized for anything. Nevertheless he pulled himself together and responded, "You honor me, father."
"No," Titus waved him off, "you honor yourself when doing business cleared of plots and schemes. Do you see what can be achieved without them?"
Quintus stared his father down and took a moment to order his thoughts before answering. In another life he might have taken the opening and clear offer of reconciliation. He might have thought bridging the gap between them once more was more important than proving himself the correct one in this scenario, but that was not this life. No, here and now he had two potential champions that he had found, he had trained, and he had placed in the arena to the accompaniment of enough skill to even impress his dinosaur of a father. He had a right to his pride.
"No."
"Pardon?" Titus' eyes narrowed.
"No, the accolades of this day were all achieved because of my scheming and plotting." Quintus stepped up to the desk and rested his fists upon it, leaning over so he and his old man were nearly nose to nose. No longer would he assume the position of a cowed child before this man. "My urge to advance brought me to Harry and Crixus. My schemes brought Gannicus to the primus, and had you not interfered he'd have competed to the awe of Capua and won our house the greatest victory it had ever seen. You never cease critiquing me but the truth is I have done more to advance our house in but a few years than you have in your entire career, and you just can't accept it."
"You've truly learned nothing, have you?" Titus lamented.
"Nothing? I learned everything!" his son nearly roared, all of his pent up rage escaping at once. "I studied every lesson you ever gave, I sought out further instruction from Selonius, I attended every arena bout, and I kept our ludus afloat while you ran off to retire in Sicilia." Quintus was shaking with visible rage now, enough to shock even his father. "But nothing was ever good enough for you, was it, father? No expression of skill, no thoughts of change, no ideas for advancement personal, professional, or otherwise."
"You never wanted this life, Quintus." Titus leaned back, away from the vitriolic gaze of his son, trying to bring peace once more. "I was raised in the arena, watching the games upon my father's knee, but it never held the same light for you, I saw that."
"Was I not also raised upon your knee?" His son argued. "Did I not see the same things as you?"
"Did you?" Quintus asked. "You are prideful, headstrong, you fight me at every turn and your ambition is a bolt thrown against my wishes, and it could easily lead you to ruin." In a flash his hands shot up to cup his son's face. "I lost your mother, boy. Her sickness could not be helped by my hands, but your ambition could."
"So that is why you kept me at arms length? Why so few words of comfort or praise reached me that I thought I lived in eternal drought? It is why you stymied every idea I had to advance myself? By the gods, I wanted to perform my military service to gain combat experience and build meaningful connections, but you said nay so I turned from it. You commanded that I run the ludus in your absence, so I did and in the process abandoned prior desires and plans long since made impossible by the passage of time, but even now you curse my efforts. Only once have I ever explicitly denied your will, and that was to marry a woman who has never been anything but a loyal and true wife who has benefited me more in body and soul than any other match you put before me. Yet even now you cannot see you were wrong about Lucretia just as you have been wrong about everything else!"
"My son, everything I did I did out of love for you. You would not have survived the military, just as you would not have survived this feud you've created with good Tullius. Do you not see the danger you have placed us all in?"
"Then we are at an impasse." Quintus pulled free of him.
"An impasse? I am the paterfamilia, Quintus. My word is law here and I will enforce it."
"Yes, but what shall you do then? Stay here and rule directly? At the rate your health declined last time you'd last maybe two months before you're either in the ground or forced to remove yourself. Will you leave and return to retirement? I'll just keep running this place as I have been once you are gone. The only way to stop me would be to place someone else in charge, but that would disinherit your only son while also removing this ludus, the place we all know you value more than your family, from the lineage of the Batiatus line."
Titus glared stonily at his son for ten whole seconds before falling limply into his chair and staring at the floor. "Is this truly what has become of us, son? Is this who we are forced to be to each other?"
"It is who you are forcing us to become." Quintus shot back. "The world is changing, father. The arena is changing with it. We cannot stay as you were, we cannot fight as you did, and we cannot conduct business as it was run in the 'good old days' of your youth. We must adapt or die." Forcing himself to calm somewhat he added, "I can see the path forward and I can lead us upon it. More than anything I want you at my side, seeing the heights to which I can take us, but you need to trust me for that to happen."
Titus looked upon his son in that moment, and it was then that he saw what he'd always hoped the boy would become. A man, standing tall, proud, and certain of his path. He was even showing enough spine to finally stand up to him. It wasn't ideal with the mess he'd placed them in, but the boy was right. He didn't have a lot of options left and he refused to lose the ludus. "Fine. Then I would offer a wager."
Quintus blinked, "A wager?"
"You are certain that your way is the correct one? More than mine?"
"With every fiber of my being."
"And you are willing to risk all to support that supposition?"
"Of course."
"Then hear me now. In a short time I shall instigate a tournament amongst our fighters to see who the greatest amongst them is. With all the new blood a ranking seems in order. You show such faith in your warriors so if Crixus, Gannicus, and Harry make it to the top three, then I will allow you full control of this ludus once more. I will support your decisions in all things and watch on only as an observer." He stood and rounded the desk to look his son in the eyes. "However, should even one of them fail to place so high, then you will cease these plots of yours forever. You will fall in line behind me, and you will agree to sell Gannicus to Tullius so that we might ease tensions completely. Do we have a deal?"
"Yes." Quintus answered without hesitation and in spite of their circumstances, Titus found he was quite proud of the certainty his son was capable of mustering.
"Then I would suggest getting those men of yours prepared."
Meanwhile
Diona was healing. Slowly. And her new duties in the kitchen were helping in spades as they kept her hands busy and her mind focused on the present instead of the events of the past. Though, when she did think back on them they didn't hurt so much as they used to. The pain was there, but she could choose whether to feel it or not. The slave was just getting ready to start working on chopping some vegetables when there came a knocking on the door.
She looked around for a moment before approaching it and pulling open the viewing slide. There, waiting patiently for her, was her savior. "Harry!" She exclaimed before unlatching the lock and yanking open the door to embrace the man. "You came to visit!"
"Of course I did." Harry allowed himself to be held without touching the woman back, keeping his hands down and palms turned away. He figured it was better to let her set the pace and he wasn't sure male contact so soon after her trauma would be helpful. "I promised to talk to you as often as you like, and we're friends, so we should share the good things that happen to us as well as the bad."
"You have good things to talk about?" She asked.
"You could say that." Harry smirked as he raised his arm for her to see.
At once Diona's hand covered her mouth and she began to make a high pitched noise of delight. "You made it into the Brotherhood!"
"I did."
"Tell me everything."
"Only if you tell me about your new job. You seem to be liking it so far."
"Done."
"Also, I thought you might find a dream of mine interesting too."
"What was it about?"
"Well, my people had a habit of meditating to find their 'inner animal' and though it's taken me a while I finally know what mine is. Do you want to know what a black-maned lion looks like?"
