Wolf’s Empire: Gladiator (10 page)

“I won't beg my father for a crumb. He can go to Hades.”

“See that bitter taste in your mouth? That's the flavor of grown-up choices. Now's when you really decide if you have what it takes to see this through.”

I would rather have been skinned alive than run to him and play the contrite daughter, but Marcus was right. This was my only chance and I had to act. “Father! Do not do this!” I called out as I ran to intercept him. His bionic eye picked me up first, followed by his human eye, which widened in surprise. He didn't expect me to press him here, in the arena, to force him to air our dirty laundry before the galactic audience.

“You leave me no choice!” he bellowed. “What can I do with a daughter whose disobedience breaches all the standards of morality and good judgment?”

The crowd booed and became quickly hostile. They began pressing and battering the energy barrier that kept them separated from the arena. They'd followed my career, knew what I'd overcome to fight before them. I felt a rush of energy. They were behind me, they understood.

“Let me go! Let me fight!” I pleaded. “Look at these people. They call for justice.”

“The mob's approval is fleeting and mindless. Look at them,” he said, indicating the screaming crowd. “Look at you, you're no better,” he snapped. “You can't master yourself or your emotions, you can't follow orders. You play in the arena, but you're not a real warrior.”

“This is no game. I'm fighting for justice.”

Suddenly, the energy barrier flickered and vanished and the crowd surged into the arena like water overflowing a dam. How could that happen? Had it been turned off intentionally?

Things were quickly getting out of hand. They rushed toward my father like a flock of greedy crows, eyes gleaming, screaming as one. They wanted to kill my father in order to avenge me, but there was a vacancy in their eyes, as if they'd all been possessed by a single chthonic spirit.

“Get behind me,” I said to Father, putting myself between him and the crowd.

“I don't need you to protect me,” Father objected, as spectators rushed at us. I gripped Orbis. How did things change so quickly? Was I really going to kill my supporters to protect my father? Judging from the faces on the crowd as they surged toward us, it seemed as if they'd be just as happy to kill me if I got in their way.

“And I think we'll stop this now.”

The voice was loud and clear. Not booming like my father's, not angry, the almost-bored voice of a schoolmaster, laden with an unshakable authority. Everyone stopped and looked up to the emperor's box. The telescopic glass magnified his face to giant size.

“Will the audience please show some self-restraint? I think we'll save the fighting for the gladiators, hmm?”

Just like magic, they looked at one another like they had awoken from a spell, and then they returned to their seats like cowed schoolchildren.

“Senator, must we have this out in a public forum? Can this not be dealt with privately?”

My father marched toward the box and offered the emperor a salute.

“Imperator. I beg your forgiveness. I did not mean for the error that has occurred here today to inconvenience you. Please allow me to excuse both myself and my daughter and allow the trials to continue.”

None could speak to the emperor unless he addressed that person first, and I knew it would not even occur to the master of the empire to ask me my mind, leaving me to choke on the words that sought to find their way out of my mouth. According to the most ancient rules of Roman law and custom, I was no more than my father's daughter and had no voice.

“Senator Viridius, did you see her fight?”

“No, Imperator. I came as soon as I heard she'd left home. Against my explicit instructions.”

“She fought bravely, much more so than some others here today. She brought honor to your house, and I for one would like to see her fight in Jupiter's Great Games.”

The audience roared their approval. Perhaps this madness would work out after all.

“And what do you have to say for yourself?” the emperor asked me.

He was riding right over the top of Father's rights, addressing me directly. I was dumbstruck. The words that were bursting to rush forward like a team of chariot horses only a moment ago had suddenly been spooked and run off. I took a deep breath to collect myself and gave a silent prayer to Minerva that I could keep my temper in check. “I believe that what we earn, we deserve,” I said. “I have fought and won today to secure a place I had already earned. I've won it twice over now.”

“If every man got what he deserved,” the emperor said, “who would escape a whipping?”

The crowd burst out into laughter.

“Thank you, Imperator,” Father said. “You are the father of the empire. If it is your wish that she go to the tournament, then I will yield, but as paterfamilias, the head of the household and her father, it is my fervent wish that she remain here in Rome and attend to the duties appropriate to a noblewoman of her station.”

He was using his oratory skills, politely reminding the emperor that although he was the most powerful man in the galaxy, Rome as a civilization worked only if every individual man in the hierarchy was permitted to exercise the rights and power assigned him.

“A moment ago, I asked that the audience barrier be turned off,” the emperor said. “I wanted to see how Accala would react. She was brave in the arena. To see a woman challenge and defeat Marcus Calpurnius Regulus is no small thing and now she has faced down her own supporters when they were about to tear you limb from limb. Is that not a fine example of filial loyalty?”

“Yes, Imperator. She is possessed of many good qualities, but her weaknesses overcome her from time to time. She is a horse that bites at the bit and pulls at the bridle.”

The emperor sighed. “As you said, the bond between a father and his household is sacred, as is the bond between a proconsul and his province, an emperor and his empire. These relationships are set in place by the gods to give us order.”

A murmur of displeasure arose from the crowd as they sensed where he was heading. Some even yelled out their disapproval. In response, the emperor's balcony detached from the wall, becoming a rectangular hovering transport, carrying him up above the audience and out over the arena. “Citizens, what the gods have set in place we cannot sully, no matter how bravely the lady has proved her mettle. This seems to be a day for family disappointments, so why not one more? I've made my decision in accordance with her father's wish and petitions received only moments ago, one from the Committee for Combative Sports, another from the Senate. Accala Viridius Camilla will not be permitted to join the Calpurnian team today.”

The wave of despondency from the audience was palpable and, as for me, there was no fire left. Cold and limp, I couldn't hold back the tears of hopelessness and shame that ran down my face.

“Now, my fellow Romans,” the emperor boomed, “enough gloom! Food and wine for everyone! And a comedy pantomime. I need to laugh.”

The crowd cheered as the lighting changed and entertainers streamed onto the Colosseum stage, their interest in me diminishing with each passing second. However good the Sertorians were at propaganda, the emperors were always the masters of bread and circuses. The fate of Accala Viridus Camilla was already fading into an amusing footnote in the history of the tournament, a story told to feisty daughters by their fathers when they stepped out of line—the girl who tried to play at being a man.

Attendants escorted us off the stage. I went without a fight. My father strode ahead of me. He'd won his victory, what more was there to say? Well, I had plenty to say.

“How dare you do this,” I called out after him. “You think I'm a mare to be bridled? Mother would never have let you get away with spouting such narrow-minded rubbish. You're devolving into some primeval ape without her.”

The mention of my mother stopped him. His anger was gone, replaced by dismay. “I've let you play fight here long enough, despite the embarrassment it has caused our house. I thought this fighting would help to contain your violent tendencies, keep you from making even more foolish choices. That's what your mother would have had me do, and I tried to follow her way in her absence, but I was mistaken. You've forced me to publicly petition the emperor. Some of the Viridian senators want me to disown you, to banish you from our house! Hear me clearly. This is the last straw. Your life as a gladiatrix ends here.”

“The arena is my life. I won't live outside of it.”

“Are you threatening suicide over this? Pah! Don't be ridiculous. I'm trying to manage our house in the midst of war, I have important duties that must be carried out. You carry on like a drama queen, like the whole universe revolves around you.”

His words stung deeply because there was a truth to them, but at the same time, I knew he was wrong.

“If I rail at your authority, it is because I am not permitted to exercise any of my own. I am an adult and the gods have given me intelligence and skills. How could I not use them to fashion my own destiny? Not doing so would be a sin to my own creation as well as the memory of my mother and brother. By cutting me from the Golden Wolves, you've doomed the Caninine Alliance to failure.”

“There's no talking to you. I'll have your aunts find a suitable man immediately,” he said, walking on impatiently. “Once you're married off and have some babies to care for, you'll see what life's really about. Children will ground you, and I'll be free of a daughter who uses words like ‘authority' and ‘destiny.'”

“Father! I won't stand for this. I won't—”

“Control your gods-be-damned tongue!” He seethed, turning on me suddenly, his anger barely contained. “Do you wish to force my hand? No house, no name, abandoned to the winds of fate. The life of a stateless exile. Is that what you seek? A status no better than that of a slave? One more word and I will do it, do not mistake me. Use what brains your mother gave you. See sense, or I will be forced to let you feel the consequences of your actions. I can shield you only up to a point. You're right that you are an adult, a citizen. Now you must learn to be responsible and behave like one.”

“I do not seek your protection. If you wish to exile me, then do it.”

His eyes widened with surprise that I should test him so. I expected him to disown me then and there, but he only shook his head in disappointment. “You speak as a child speaks, without thinking things through. Your words are tinged with hysteria. This is Rome. Family is everything. Without our protection, you have no idea how dangerous this empire would be for you. You would be devoured in an instant by the forces that are unleashed at this time. Learn your place. Serve your family and you will find, in time, a way to be content.”

“Contentment? I want justice. I burn for it.”

“There is no justice in this life. Your mother's death should have taught you that, as Aulus' death taught me. House Viridian is working in the Senate and behind the scenes to ensure victory in the coming tournament and in the war at large. You know nothing and yet you strut around, a hothead, a spoiled brat. You've had your run, Accala. You wanted to run off the rails and you've done it, but I won't allow you to tarnish the reputation of our house. Not now when there's so much at stake. You're done. That's my final word on the matter.”

As he stormed away, I became aware that I was surrounded by dozens of my fellow gladiators. Standing quietly, staring at me, no doubt laughing to themselves now that the she-wolf had finally been muzzled. Back on my leash, no voice, no opinion, no justice. Just as I began to follow my father out of the Colosseum, I heard my full name called. Had the emperor changed his mind? No, it was that damned pest Gaius Sertorius Crassus.

“Lady Accala, you were magnificent. A thrilling performance. Allow me to congratulate you.”

I looked at him, through him. What was he saying? Was he mocking me? What possible thing could he have to say to me that I would care to hear at this moment? He leaned in close and whispered, “Come to my town house on the Palatine. Come late, after the contestants' banquet.” He pressed something into my hand. A card. My fingers numbly closed around it, and then he was gone. Did Crassus actually think now that I was humiliated there would be an opportunity to bed me? That I was so desperate I would come crawling to him for affection? My head held high, I resisted the urge to flee the arena floor and chose an even, steady pace. A roar of laughter started up behind me as I passed into the tunnel to the Ludus Magnus. The comedy play had started up. Or perhaps it was me they were laughing at, for I had certainly played the part of a fool that day.

The change rooms were empty, a small mercy. The sooner I was free of the arena the better, but first things first. I carefully oiled Orbis, properly returning him to his restraining gel. “You were perfect,” I said, gently touching him before slowly closing the weapon case and storing him on the top shelf of my locker. As for the rest, I hastily threw my armor into a heap at the bottom of my locker. My armilla was beeping. Journalists were sending me communicats, trying to arrange interviews. As I shut off the device, I saw the alert at the top of the list—a dozen traffic infringement notices for violating aerway regulations. As if I needed any further proof that the gods were against me. Back into my clothes and stola, I shoved the card Crassus had given me into one of the inner pockets and fished out a light gray cloak with no house markings that I'd stored for just such an occasion. I threw it around my shoulders and pulled up the hood to conceal my face.

“Accala!” Marcus was searching for me. That day, my father, my team, my own house had let me know what they thought of me. I would have given them the chance to win not only the tournament but the war itself, but apparently it was a far better fate that all the best houses of the empire burn and fall than be aided by a woman. Right then I didn't want to speak to any man, not even Marcus. Exiting by way of a service door, I bypassed the arena crowds altogether, exchanging them for the anonymity that came with the crush and drive of Rome's bustling streets.