A group of women around Corinna's age walked in.
"Salvēte!" But my greeting went unanswered.
They had lingered in front of the courtyard for a long time, watching the novicii train in the dirt yard. The woman who led the group was draped in pale blue, with fine silver hanging from an elegant neck. It was clear she—and her friends—were patricians. Hard work had never once dirtied her hem or roughened her hands. Somehow, her skin looked like soft, white marble.
"So," she said in a silky voice. "Is this where all the fine young gladiators come to revive themselves after such a long, hard day?" The last couple of words were dragged out as her friends snickered.
"Sometimes," I replied honestly. "Can't say when, though."
"A shame. We were hoping to talk to them. But mostly the black haired one from Sol Ludus yesterday." She leaned toward me, her words an unwelcome caress that made me guarded. "Perhaps you can tell him several wealthy patrons at the Verres villa are willing to...sponsor. We just need a closer demonstration of skill first. The girl, too."
"Would you still like to order anything?" I cleared my throat, trying to change the subject. Something about it made my skin crawl for a different reason than that eerie scream yesterday. “From my menu?” The specifications jumped out.
The woman in blue put a finger to her lips, looking at the menu. "The Nox. I want to know how he'd taste."
I plastered on a smile, swallowing the sudden taste of bile. "Unfortunately, I've run out of supplies for that one," I lied. "It's been a popular request."
Annoyed disappointment dripped from her face as she picked something else. They drifted away to one of the tables and continued talking amongst themselves while I worked. I rushed as fast as I could to make their stuff because I wanted them out of here.
Their words carried over like a sickness in the air. "Oh, yes. Her face is sweet. I think Gallus would like it.”
"Or even the big one," another chimed in, brushing off imaginary dirt. Intricate gold embroidery adorned every edge of her yellow tunic. "Severus has a thing for that."
I paled at their implications, wondering if I should kick them out. But...who was I to decide if the gladiators wanted that or not? Uncertainty tore at me.
"Look at this," she continued, pulling out a stained pin from her hair. It looked almost like rust. "Dipped in the blood from that one from Ludus Matutinus."
They fussed over it for a little bit before the one in blue spoke up again.
"I'm sure you all remember the red haired one from last month? I have his sweat," she said triumphantly. "Someone took his training rag and squeezed it out. They wanted twenty denarii for it."
I nearly dropped the glass—that was enough to set someone for a year. They were the last ones in the courtyard and I brought their smoothies directly over to them without a word. I hadn't asked for their names; I didn't want to even know what they were called.
"And?" they asked breathlessly.
"Oh, absolutely worth the cost. But I must know how much more potent it would be to have it fresh from the source. You know how they are, of course. They'll do just about anything for coin."
"Send him to me after. I think I like the idea of an injured gladiator."
"I just hope that no one else got to him first before me. That'll be quite the trophy, taking one of the champion of the Sol Ludus.”
I closed my eyes, slamming down the crate I was carrying. “Those are my friends you're talking about.”
The woman turned to me, somehow looking disdainful, patronizing, and amused at the same time. “Well then all the easier to talk to them. Even if you don't, we'll find a way.”
“Don't be so sure about them.”
She laughed, turning back. “And don't be so naive.”
I turned the spigot to drown out their conversation, watching the cold water splash against the tiles. My teeth ground together. It wasn't the first sexually charged conversation I'd overheard, but this one made me feel sick.
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Howwver, the moment they left, I was filled with instant regret over how weak-willed I'd been about the entire situation. I rubbed my temples, cursing out loud. Slavery in Aeterna had ended long before I was born, for economic reasons as well as social ones. But still, people found a way, as she said. And a power imbalance created its own chains.
Maybe the fault really was with me for being so naive. For not remembering that some people weren't like the girls who came today, giggling over the fighters' looks, or the young men blushing awkwardly over their new crush on the gladiatrix. Or me and Saturnia who idolized them.... Doubt coiled in my gut. Maybe we were part of the problem, too. Because in our own way, we also only wanted something from them.
"Ugh." At the very least, their coin would make a good donation to Justitia. May the goddess of justice find her way to them.
I began closing the smoothie bar and cleaning up for the day in aggravation. When I got to their table, I stared at their glasses in contemplation. They'd never be clean enough in my eyes, I decided. I gathered them into a rag and twisted it together. Swinging the bundle high over my head, I brought it down to smash against the stone floor.
"I didn't know breaking things was part of the job. That looks like fun," Praxedes called out. She was hobbling across the path to the courtyard with a wooden crutch tucked under her arm.
I paused long enough to frown. "Should you really be walking right now, Prax?" I swung a few more times until I was satisfied the pieces were shattered into smithereens.
"My thoughts exactly," Ursus said as he caught up to her. "How about it? Should I carry you the rest of the way?"
She cringed away. "Absolutely not."
"Well then, have it your way." He stepped around her and quickly left her behind, stopping in front of me. "Alright, Max. You look like you smelled a pile of shit."
"Because I did."
He sprawled wide on a bench, spreading his arms across the back. "Care to elaborate?"
I hurried over to Praxedes. Taking her crutch, I put her arm around my shoulder despite her protests and helped her sit next to him.
"Ursus, have you ever...When someone..." I stumbled over my words, suddenly unsure about how to bring it up. I took a deep breath. I should just spit it out. "Some patricians wanted to pay one of you to sleep with them. And I didn't know what to do."
Stunned silence met me.
"Ah. So that's what's bothering you."
I flopped down across from them, slumping over to put my head on the table. "Hearing the things they said—I don't know if I'm overreacting or didn't react enough. Or if it's even my place to feel this way. But I feel the need to go scrub my skin off."
He shifted, clearing his throat. "There will always be people who take advantage of others. Especially ones they think are beneath them." For once, his voice didn't carry the charming tease it usually did. "That's why brothels are still around. Plenty of gladiators will want to jump at the chance desperately, but you can always dislike those spoiled pigs."
"Exactly, Max. Forget about them. If they want it so bad, they can crawl down to us and ask us themselves," Praxedes said, slapping her hand on the table.
I lifted my head, scrunching my face. "They have blood from a gladiator. And drank sweat from a another one."
Ursus nodded to exposed armpit. "You crush my spirits. You mean to tell me that you wouldn't ever want to taste this?" he teased.
"Gross, Ursus. Why lick you when she can lick me?" She waggled her eyebrows in exaggeration, laughter bubbling behind her sharp blue eyes.
But I didn't laugh.
"Is there something else?"
I hesitated. "Corvus told me it helps to have people cheering for you. But now I can't stop wondering f the way I've treated you as a fan makes me no better than them.”
"Max." Praxedes's voice was sharp. "Tell me. You cheer us on, wanting us to survive because you cared about us, right?"
"Yeah?"
"Then what's there to feel bad about?" Ursus said, his honeyed tone back. “Nothing wrong with thinking we're attractive at the same time. I hardly need to be paid to have a good time.”
I sighed, putting my head back down and ignoring the last part. "I guess you're right."
They lapsed into silence with me. After a moment, there was a soft touch on my head. And then another and soon the two were competing over how many flowers they could put in the braids crowning my head. They slapped each other's hands out of the way, snickering. I smirked. One day I'll get to say it.
I shook myself off and stood up. "Okay, I've moped enough. Are you here to help me?
He hauled himself to his feet. "Ursus Regulus at your command."
"I'm just here to watch," Praxedes said, stretching out along the bench.
He and a few others rearranged the seating area to make room for cushioned benches and low tables, with more just outside. Meanwhile, I set up candles around the courtyard and lit the torches ensconced on the walls. A warm, golden glow illuminated the space.
Praxedes clasped her hands in delight before sniffing the air. "Something smells amazing."
The food was brought in then, and it was a dizzying array. We stared in amazement. Felix approached me as I swept my eyes over the entire scene.
"Today's drink was much better than yesterday's," he informed me dutifully.
"What? Nevermind that, gods, look at all of this!" I walked among the tables in shock, rattling off everything I saw. "Fig and bacon, honey glazed pheasant, eel covered in rose petals—is that lobster covered in caviar?"
But what commanded the room was the roasted peacock. Its feathers were arranged in a fan, the iridescent greens, indigos, and gold shimmering in the candlelight. "Pluto's riches," I whispered. "Father, you've really outdone yourself."
Okay...it's time to ask. Are you rooting for Praxedes or Ursus?
