Seduced by the Gladiator(19)

“I can make your life here hell.” Spittle flew as Bavarius spoke, spraying into the air like drops of poison.

Christus allowed the merest sneer to curl his lips before finally, slowly, raising that sword. I watched, fascinated, as the shadows that were so unflattering to Bavarius served only to accentuate Christus’ muscles.

“The dominus has reassured me that he demands no rite of passage upon entrance to his ludus, no trials, no branding.” Absently he rubbed his forearm, and when I squinted, I saw a faded section of skin that may have one such marking. “Any rite that you speak of must be of your own devising. Very well; let us get on with it. I will undertake whatever trial you set before me, if it means only that you will cease with your incessant chatter.”

There was no such trial; this I knew firsthand. This was an open challenge from Bavarius, but he had been a fool to issue it at that moment, alone on the sand with Christus. Bavarius was brave only when he had a half-dozen cronies to back up his words, his muscle.

He would never have intended to face off with a man who, from the look of it, could best him in under a minute.

While I was the top ranked in the ludus, Bavarius hung somewhere in the middle. If challenged one on one, even I would not be scared of him, though I was a fraction of his size.

Bavarius seemed to be taken aback. “It is mealtime, new brother.” He cast an uneasy look toward the area where the men ate, which had a roof but was free of walls. Though the food was not overly appetizing, I knew that for a glutton such as him, not being able to finish his meal would be a major punishment.

He should have thought of that before interrupting his dinner to taunt Christus.

My own stomach grumbled, empty and craving nourishment, though at that moment I did not think that I could force down even a bite. I would regret it tomorrow, but Bavarius had so upset me that I had not been able to eat.

The smaller, unctuous man continued, seeming not to like the direction in which the encounter had gone. “Surely you need to eat, yourself.”

Christus allowed a thin, humorless smile to cross his lips, one that I could see, even across the distance.

I saw his head turn in my direction, just the slightest bit, and I only noticed because I was watching for it. He remembered that I was there, and I was just as certain that he had not forgotten that something had passed between me and Bavarius earlier than day.

I saw that he meant to teach the man a lesson on my behalf. Part of me raged at that—why was the man always feeling the need to take care of me? Part of me, however, thrilled at it.

Bavarius had a lesson coming, and if he learned it without me having to touch him, then all the better.

“As you have pointed out to me, I will not be a full member of this brotherhood until I have fulfilled your rite.” Christus tapped the sword against the large palm of his hand, the worn wood slapping harshly against the hard flesh. “I cannot imagine a world without you as my brother, so let us commence.”

The sarcasm dripped from his words like sludge.

I could not hold back—I had never been the most patient of creatures. Also, I wanted to take part in his comeuppance, and this was different than simply having Christus defend me from an attack. So I thawed the muscles that had been frozen in place and strode out onto the sand, but not before grabbing another training sword from where they rested at the side of the mock arena.

Bavarius opened his mouth, likely to argue, but stopped short when he saw me coming. I slapped the training sword into his hand and forced a grin onto my face. “Enjoy your lesson.” Though I wanted to strike at the man myself—he brought forth a blood lust unlike anything that I had ever felt in the arena—I stepped back to the perimeter of the sand to watch.

I thought I saw the corners of Christus’ mouth quirk up in the barest whisper of a smile—the first that I had seen on his lips. Then it was gone. Inhaling deeply, he stalked away from Bavarius, then spun and bent at the knees, his sword outstretched. He did not seem at all concerned about losing this match and consequently losing the respect of the men, nor did he seem to feel fear. Still, I saw the same concentration that I myself felt when in a fight.

Training sands or arena, cockiness led to injury and even to death. I approved of the caution that I saw on his side of things. He was tensed to fight, even if only with wooden swords, the fierceness that made him appear so strong a gladiator held in every fiber of his flesh.

It took no more than a minute for him to charge the smaller man, who still seemed surprised and unprepared, and who placed show into his fight and not skill, something the doctore had never been able to work out of him. I was drawn to the strength that Christus showed as he easily evaded his opponent’s charges. The power in Christus’ movements, the way in which his body moved, forced heated thoughts into my mind.