The Gladiator’s Master (6 page)

Gaidres knew he might, indeed, choose to come back here if he truly did have a choice, but what did giving a choice matter to the other man? Pride? Ego? It must be nice to have such luxuries. Gaidres almost said yes, take him back to his cell and not call for him again. But the truth was, he could accomplish so much more by remaining close to Caelius. With Craxus he’d been forced to linger and wait and the years had ticked by before he’d gotten an opportunity. With Caelius…The man all but served himself up for sacrifice.

He shook his head. “No. I would stay. Perhaps to you the choice seems not worth considering, but to me choice is so rare that I cannot dismiss one.”

Caelius touched the back of Gaidres’s hand. “I would offer you another choice now.”

“What choice would that be, Dominus?”

“Would you prefer to use your true name in the arena or continue to go on as Argon?”

Gaidres’s brows furrowed, for a moment indecision warring within him, but then he shook his head. “Gratitude, Dominus, but I’ll keep Argon. I have…grown used to it.”

Caelius gave him a look that said he doubted that was the true reason, though he did not press. Instead, he signaled for the slaves to return and carry away the empty platter of food and they did so in silence.

“It does not bother you to have their eyes on you at all times?” Gaidres watched them go, leaving the guard at the doorway and the single slave in the corner, waiting for a command.

Caelius glanced over at them, seeming startled by the question. “I’ve never known anything else. Privacy is something I’ve never had. How can you miss something you’ve never known?”

Gaidres supposed that was true. They lived such different lives. Not just gladiator and dominus, but as men. Back home in Thrace there were slaves, but not like here. Not to perform every bodily duty for someone. Romans didn’t wash themselves, they didn’t dress themselves, they didn’t even always feed themselves. They never cleaned, they never cooked, they never got their hands dirty, it seemed. He could not imagine living life that way. It barely seemed like life at all.

As always when thoughts of home came upon him, his mind drifted. A flash of sweat trickling down a sleek, arched back. A whisper of memory, the sound of a familiar moan, his name on beloved lips. Gaidres set his jaw and shoved the thoughts aside. No, he would never hear his name on those lips again. He knew that. He would also sooner die than hear that name screamed by a bloodthirsty crowd in the arena.

“What are you thinking of?” Caelius’s voice stirred him back to the present and he met curious dark eyes.

Gaidres shook his head. “Nothing, Dominus, apologies for my distraction.”

He could tell Caelius didn’t believe him, but the man decided not to press. Instead, Caelius’s lashes lowered, eyes dark with blatant desire as he leaned forward.

“Then perhaps I ought to give you something you won’t be distracted from.” He slid out of his seat, straddled Gaidres’s thighs and draped his arms around his neck. “We’ve sated one appetite, my beautiful gladiator…let us sate another.”

As their lips met, Gaidres sighed in relief. He suspected there would come a day when his dominus did not accept such lies from him, but that day was not this one. For now the shards of memory that remained of his life before were yet still his own. Untainted and tucked safely away in a corner of his mind where reality, and worse, could not touch them.

He would kill to protect them. And die to do the same.

Hierocles gritted his teeth as he passed near the dominus’s chambers and heard the moans from within. Argon was at it again with the dominus. From the day their new master arrived, Argon had been whispering in his ear, using his body to influence matters in the
ludus.
Even worse he’d presumed to try to lead them in the absence of a doctoré.

It didn’t take a brilliant mind to notice how matters had turned out and Hierocles was no fool. The older, seasoned warriors had been turned out of the
ludus,
leaving room for the younger men who had not earned their place yet. And Argon was the rumored favorite. Hierocles wasn’t surprised, not when Argon was again called to the dominus’s rooms. How convenient that Argon managed to avoid sparring and having his lack of ability revealed.

Fuming, he turned the corner and walked until the obscene sounds of pleasure left his ears. His errand done, he returned to the gladiator quarters. Hierocles knew the dominus was watching them, making plans to have him and others sent away, to die in drudgery—no matter what lies the dominus spread about offering them gentler duties. What warrior wanted gentle duties?

They had been allowed to remain in the
ludus
thus far. He tended to the weapons and gear, constantly reminded of chances for glory that had been stolen from him. The doctoré had been instructed to have them ease back into training, much to Hierocles’s disgust. He’d almost rather have been sent to the mines.

Tending the weapons…What honor could be found in that? It was a boy’s job, not that of a man. There had been a time when the crowds had chanted his name. Hierocles sat in his cell, nursing the jug of wine he had pilfered earlier. It was becoming the only way he could sleep. He didn’t want to hear Argon return and know that he had been filling the dominus’s head with lies as they took their pleasure in each other.

He was a warrior and Argon was no better than a whore.

Hierocles took another swig and lay down, staring at the ceiling. The new doctoré seemed to be a sharp man. He would keep matters from progressing too far. Surely the dominus would take the word of his doctoré over that of his whore and Argon would soon learn his place. Or the dominus would grow bored with his new entertainment and Argon would find that his star had fallen.

Hierocles could ingratiate himself with the new doctoré. Show him how knowledgeable he was. Then, when Dominus finally decided to be rid of the unfit men for good, he might not be one of them. He might be able to stay on until he could prove that he deserved to become a gladiator once more.

He closed his eyes, but despite the wine, scenes kept recurring in his mind. How Argon pretended to care, urging him to rest and regain his strength when he really feared Hierocles honing his skills again. And Argon had kept assuming leadership over them when it was Hierocles who had been in this
ludus
the longest. Argon should have deferred to him, but all the other men had accepted Argon’s guidance without question.

Then the dominus had spoken with him and a few others this morning regarding his concerns that they should be dismissed as gladiators for their own health. His hands clenched into fists and he took another long drink of the wine. Oh, the dominus had been full of soft words when he told him of the medicus’s opinion and offered any number of other things they could do, but no arguments to allow him to fight again had swayed the man. They would be allowed to train only as much as the medicus deemed they could handle.

He heard Argon’s return and Demos’s sleepy greeting. They exchanged words in low voices. No doubt Argon was bragging about how he had the dominus’s full attention. Hierocles lay on his cot and seethed. He’d bide his time for now. The dominus would tire of him. Or else Argon would do something to prove how unworthy he was. He could wait. To see Argon fall, Hierocles could wait for an eternity.

Lunge. Thrust. Sweep. Turn. Lunge.
A dance only a warrior knew and one only a warrior could teach to another. Gaidres watched his partner now, a half smile tugging at his hard lips as he dodged and spun and lunged in rhythm to Demos’s movements. His friend was good, very good. Demos had recovered far quicker than Gaidres had suspected he would. He would mention as much the next time he saw Caelius.

In a sudden flash, Gaidres found himself flat on his back in the dirt, a victim of his own distraction as he glowered up at the smirking young man standing over him. He blamed it on Caelius.

“Your thoughts were elsewhere, Argon.” Demos made the proclamation with another wide grin as he reached down to help him to his feet.

Gaidres scowled and dusted himself off. “Cease your laughter, else you’ll find yourself missing some of your teeth. Then what will you chew your bread with, Demos?”

Demos laughed and Gaidres shoved his shoulder good-naturedly.

“Enough! Again!” Doctoré barked and they both leaped back into position, humor gone as they each brandished their
rudis
and the mock battle raged again.

Hierocles stood on the sidelines watching, a hard look on his face. Gaidres could understand his anger. A man unable to fight was bad enough, but a gladiator unable to do so might as well be dead. What purpose did he serve? He could not blame the man for his bitterness. In time, Hierocles would settle into his new role.

Demos snickered as they circled and lunged, wooden swords clashing against shields and each other. “Your eye wanders, Argon. Has our dominus lost his appeal so easily?” His voice was quiet lest they both earn a lesson in concentration from Doctoré.

Gaidres glared at him and knocked a sharp thrust aside with his shield. “Envious, Demos? Of him or of me?” He laughed at the indignant look that crossed Demos’s face and barely sidestepped a vicious lunge of his opponent’s weapon.

“Your ego knows no bounds, Argon. How does your pride taste when you’re whoring for our master, eh?” He laughed and scrambled to one side as Gaidres charged. “Oh ho! The truth stings.” The laughter ceased when Gaidres spun lightning fast, one leg sweeping out as he did, and this time it was Demos who ended the match flat on his back in the dust.

“My pride is just fine. Do not concern yourself,” he snapped.

Demos gave him a sharp look. “It was naught but a jest.”

Gaidres knew that and sighed as he reached down a hand to help his friend up. “Apologies. I have not been sleeping well.” A moment of silence met that statement and his lips twitched as he glanced at Demos, who appeared to be doing his best to not snicker. “Cease. I did not mean it in that way.”

Before Demos could reply, movement on the balcony overlooking the training courtyard caught his attention and both turned to glance up at the woman who stood there, a group of slaves surrounding her, poised to attend. Valeriana, Caelius’s wife.

“Doctoré, your men seem to be in fine fighting form this morning.” She leaned over the balcony.

The doctoré lifted his gaze to her, then inclined his head as the sparring faltered. “Domina has a good eye, but they could do better.”

Valeriana’s lips had a bit of a sulk to them and there was a bored look to her eyes. One beringed hand lay on her swelled stomach as the doctoré demanded that the men begin sparring again. They did, their movements fluid, though perhaps with a bit of extra tension in them now.

“Doctoré, you know how important this
ludus
is to my husband’s career.” Valeriana once again interrupted the bout, mischief entering her voice. “I should like to inspect the men myself. Line them up.”

Gaidres stilled. He had, up until now, not crossed paths with the woman and he wished it had remained that way. Her hair was a nearly white-blond, piled on her head in some ridiculous, elaborate style. For a moment their eyes met and hers narrowed before she turned and disappeared.

A moment later she reappeared, her slaves hurrying with her, fanning her in the building midmorning heat. She was heavy with child and Gaidres’s eyes caught there before he forced himself to lower his head as Doctoré lined them up.

She waved her fingers at the men. “Ugh, they’re filthy. And scrawny, most of them. These are the men my husband intends to stake his reputation, our future, on?” She sounded incredulous and though there was some truth to her statement, it still raked Gaidres’s spine in annoyance.

“Yes, Domina. They are working to regain their strength. Dominus has given me two months to discover what the remaining men can do,” Doctoré replied.

She laughed, the sound grating. “Regain their strength? From what? As I hear it, they were left to wallow in laziness, not training or fighting at all, when my husband’s uncle was still alive.”

“Laziness and neglect are very different circumstances, Domina,” Gaidres bit off, knowing he shouldn’t speak but unable to stop himself. The men had been sorely abused and he could not help the urge to rise to their defense.

He’d made a mistake. And an enemy, if she hadn’t already been one.

“You speak ill of your former dominus?” A dangerous light appeared in Valeriana’s eyes. “Not wise, even for a slave that is sometimes favored, especially when you speak of my husband’s bloodline.” Gaidres stared at the ground, muscles tensed. She walked up and down the line. “Two months seems hardly enough. Most are no better than mangy old curs. What happened to the other slaves my husband was going to purchase?”

“He wants these men settled into a routine before bringing in new blood, Domina.” The doctoré glanced toward the villa, as if hoping Caelius would appear.

Valeriana wrinkled her nose in distaste, then fixed her narrowed eyes on Gaidres. “That one can leave now. It’s plain to see that even two months won’t save him.” Valeriana pointed to Marius and Demos. “Those as well. Have the others strip out of their equipment and rags to run around the courtyard. I wish to see what kind of muscle tone they truly have.”

“Valeriana.” Caelius’s voice cut through the scene. “What is going on here?” He emerged from the tunnel out onto the training grounds and raked everyone with a glance. His eyes locked with Gaidres’s for a moment before moving on.

“Caelius.” Valeriana greeted him with a simper, laying her hand on his arm. “You’ve been so busy. I thought I’d take a few cares off your mind. The state of your
ludus
is shockingly poor. Really, husband, have you given some thought to selling this rabble to the mines and simply starting fresh with more worthy stock?”

“I think the sun and heat have wearied you. You should lie down. I’ll have something cool brought for you.”

“But—”

“That wasn’t a request, Valeriana.”

Gaidres glared at the ground as Caelius’s wife huffed and stormed out of the training arena.

“Dominus, should I…” Doctoré began.

“Ignore whatever orders she just gave, yes. And in future, as well. Send for me if she tries to overstep again. I’ll handle denying her.” Caelius clapped a hand on the doctoré’s shoulder. “Continue, Doctoré, as you were.”

Gaidres turned as the line of men broke back into pairs. He snatched up his
rudis
and was about to resume with Demos when he felt eyes on him. He turned his head and met Caelius’s gaze. Caelius tilted his head in Gaidres’s direction.

Gaidres looked away without acknowledgement. Inside he was fuming and as he took up his stance opposite Demos, he almost felt sorry for the poor man. He was going to beat him senseless until the fury subsided.

Demos would be a bloody mess tonight.

Caelius had a meal sent up to his private quarters and brooded as he waited for Gaidres to arrive. Valeriana had not taken his edict to stay away from the
ludus
and the men very well. It had set off a storm of weeping and accusations that had made him fear for the well-being of the babe she carried. She was now sleeping off her bout of hysterics under the care of Caelius’s old nurse, Helene, who had promised to keep an eye on his wife.

He couldn’t send her back to Caere. He wanted her close until the babe came, but there was no denying that in ten minutes she had come close to destroying what little trust he’d managed to garner from the gladiators. Hoping to make amends and soothe the rightfully angry men, Caelius had arranged for someone to come tend to the men after their baths, to massage away sore muscles, followed by a selection of beautiful men and women for their pleasure. It would have to do for an apology.

“The men are settled for the evening, Dominus.” Felix appeared in the doorway. “A guard has been sent to summon Argon.”

Caelius grimaced at his scribe. “Gratitude, Felix.” He was not looking forward to this meeting with his lion, not after Valeriana’s antics.

“Is there anything more you require, Dominus?”

Caelius shook his head. “No. You may leave me for the night. I will be fine.”

Thoughts of the
ludus
and the men in it bothered him as he waited. He didn’t want to see any of the men there die at the end of a sword, even if some were prisoners condemned to be there. At least not all of the games were to the death. And he’d see that his house participated in those rarely.

Thoughts of Gaidres consumed him most of all. Gaidres intrigued him, challenged him, and he wanted him by his side more and not in the
ludus.
He would’ve named him his newest personal guard and kept Gaidres with him, but as foolish as Caelius could be at times, having a guard who wanted to strangle him was beyond idiocy.

A sound at the doorway caught his attention and Caelius glanced up to find the object of his thoughts standing there. At least with Gaidres he could apologize face-to-face. Regret over the incident with Valeriana dampened the desire he usually felt at the sight of Gaidres looking so beautifully fierce.

“You sent for me, Dominus.” Gaidres did not meet his eyes, each word bitten off.

Caelius sat up and gestured for Gaidres to take the other couch, his heart quickening at the pride evident in Gaidres’s posture. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

Gaidres didn’t look as if he cared to sit, more like he wanted to overturn that couch and curse Caelius’s troublesome wife to the underworld. Caelius wasn’t sure if it was ingrained training or politeness that had him obeying. He sat, jaw clenched in absolute, obvious rage, but what made Caelius’s chest ache was the lingering helplessness in Gaidres’s eyes.

Valeriana could have ordered Gaidres or the other men to do whatever she pleased and, had Caelius not been there to intervene, they would have no choice but to obey. He could not imagine what it must feel like to be a plaything at the whim of a woman like Valeriana. Or any woman, for that matter.

“You are angry still, I see.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. He sighed. “And with reason. I regret Valeriana’s actions this afternoon. She has been admonished and confined to her rooms for the evening, perhaps for the remainder of her time with child.”

Gaidres gave Caelius a hard look. “What you do with your wife is none of my concern, Dominus.” His tone was icy. “Is that all? Or did you require…
more
of me this eve?”

Caelius had intended on behaving. At least at first. Surely after the day Gaidres had had, he’d appreciate a quiet meal. But there was something about the fury in Gaidres that sparked an answering emotion inside him. He rose, shivering at the way Gaidres looked at him, so intent.

“Are you hungry? I had a meal brought up for us.”

“Gratitude, Dominus, but I do not care to eat.” Gaidres rose as Caelius approached and Caelius felt his pulse race. The man was magnificent, and never more so than right now with pride screaming in every line of his body.

Caelius brushed his fingers over Gaidres’s jaw. Sex was a release for strong emotion and Gaidres needed a release before he made himself insane. “Does nothing here arouse your hunger, my lion? Do you care to sate yourself on me?”

He could feel Gaidres through his robe and the scent of him stirred his senses. He slid his hand into Gaidres’s hair. Such power inside the gladiator, barely leashed at the moment. Caelius wanted nothing more than to climb atop Gaidres, guide him inside his body and ride that power all the way to orgasm.

“Is that what you wish, Dominus?”

“Do you not desire the same thing?” He pressed himself against Gaidres.

Gaidres growled, in a sudden movement capturing Caelius’s wrists and turning to bear him back onto the low, backless couch, pinning him there. His eyes narrowed, lip curling in fury. “What I
desire,
Dominus, is beyond your ability to give me. Do not ask what I wish as if you care to give any of it to me. Tell me what you want and of course I will do all in my power to give it to you, but do not think me a fool, blinded by your soft skin, tight ass and seductive words.” He snarled and shoved away from him, sitting up and glaring at the wall.

Caelius sat up, guilt pricking his conscience. He had not brought Gaidres up here merely to fuck and once again lust had gotten in the way of his good sense. He was a fool not to have noticed the pain under all that rage, though Gaidres had alluded to it before. He’d been so caught up in his own concerns that he hadn’t seen it.

He should send Gaidres back and leave him be. This relationship between them was far more complicated than he’d had with other lovers in the past. Yet, Caelius couldn’t bring himself to send him away for good.

“Apologies again, Gaidres. I’ll admit, I do have selfish desires.” Caelius touched his hand to Gaidres’s rigid shoulder. “What is it that you want? What is it that your soul is screaming out for right now?”

If it was within his power, he’d give it. Whatever it was. Even freedom.

Gaidres’s eyes closed, his chest so painful it felt like wooden bands drawn tight enough to crush. “Can you revive the dead? Can you weave back together threads the Fates have severed?” He shoved to his feet, casting a dark glare over his shoulder. “My soul screams for one thing and one thing only.” There was a breath of a pause. “Kerses.”

Caelius inhaled sharply, brows furrowing. “Who is Kerses?”