Calvinvs

Lvdvs

A Story of a Roman Gladiator School

LIBER I

I
Enoch

Valerius Maximus watched Patricius remove the heavy bolt from the cell door. As the Nubian gladiator pulled back the door it clanged and squeaked noisily. If the boy had been sleeping, he wasn't now. He had pulled himself to a sitting position and was watching the men closely. His face did not show fear, so much as a sullen resignation. There was a spark in this boy's eyes that Valerius liked.

Valerius looked the boy over and then indicated he should stand up.

"Go with Patricius, slave. We need to see what you can do." He instructed and as he stalked away he called to his chief of the school. "Put him against the Greek – Lykos. My son has an important guest, so I want a good show, or else it is straight back to the slave market for him."

The boy was new. He had bought him in the market the day before, impressed by that same defiance he now showed, but also something else. As the boy had stood on the podium of the slave market, his feet dusted white with the chalk of a new slave, never owned before, he had moved only a little, as he was prodded and poked. Those few movements had looked lithe, almost like the boy was somehow springy, and a quick inspection had shown that there was firm, if young, muscle under his soft skin. Valerius had an instinct about these things, and his instinct told him this was a boy worth considering.

How old was he? He had asked the slaver who had shrugged, looked at the boy and ventured "eleven?" Valerius thought that was about right too so had not pursued the subject, so instead had inspected the boy thoroughly.

No boy enjoyed inspections, but usually they were frightened and submissive. This boy seemed to be neither. He was angry, as he allowed the man to inspect every aspect of his young body, glowering in a way that had the slaver apologizing for his lack of manners and house training.

When Valerius asked why the boy was being sold, his interest was sealed. This was no ordinary boy from a pauper family, sold into slavery to pay off debts.

The boy was the son of a Jewish would-be assassin, and a Roman plebeian mother. Brought up in Rome as a plebeian, his father had nevertheless been one of many Jews who had harboured the Great Resentment. Titus Vespasianus had just been declared emperor after the death of his father. The same Titus Vespasianus who had destroyed Jerusalem nine years earlier, and carried off thousands of Jews into slavery and seen the great dispersion of many thousands more.

Symeon ben Mordecai, the boy's father, had escaped that fate by having left Jerusalem some years before, seeking work as a doctor at the heart of the Roman empire. He had married in Rome and had fathered several children although all but Enoch had died to fever, along with his wife, two years back.

Little had been known about Symeon ben Mordecai before the assassination attempt on Tiber island a week before. He had lived quietly, attracting no attention, but he must have harboured the resentments of the Jewish people as he had been involved in an attempt of the life of the emperor Titus himself.

Details were sketchy, but the plot had failed completely. Titus was unharmed but ben Mordecai was cut down by praetorian guards. Already dead, they had stuck him on a cross in any case, and seized all his possessions. So it was that his son Enoch was sold into slavery, the son of a traitor, and told to thank the emperor's mercy that he was not crucified in his father's place.

And so it was that Valerius had seen the potential of an angry and possibly very dangerous half Jew as a potential new gladiator. He had paid a little too much for the boy, but he had to see off stiff competition from an agent from the whorehouse

***

"Julia, what a pleasure it is to have you here today." Valerius smiled at the senator's daughter who was standing with his son overlooking the arena. Calvinus had been acting the dutiful host in giving her the guided tour while he had been dealing with business. They had just walked down from the women's seating area and Calvinus was speaking about the excitement of being so much closer to the action in the men's area they were in now. Of course there need be no such segregation for practice days such as today. No gladiators would be dying today – or if they did, Patricius would be following them!

Julia smiled as Valerius walked up to them, Calvinus' slave stepping out of his way as he approached.

"Your son has been most attentive, I have learned a great deal about the games." Julia spoke the words perhaps a little too politely, and Valerius frowned for a second. Was that a hint of boredom? He hoped not.

The chance meeting with Senator Gaius Aurelius, Julia's father, had been most opportune that morning. The senator had been called to an urgent meeting with a client of his, despite having promised to take his daughter to the market and to explore the sights of Rome. Julia had only arrived yesterday from their country villa, and already he was having trouble with his schedule.

As chance would have it, the call had come just as Valerius had been speaking to the senator in the forum, and as he had Calvinus with him, of about the same age, he had suggested Calvin might show Julia the sites under his watchful eye while the senator attended business

This then was the perfect chance to get Calvinus noticed by the senator's daughter. If he played this right, he could form a beautiful and potentially lucrative friendship. Perhaps even a chance for him to marry his way into the patrician class. Valerius was an equestrian, but he had no doubts his son would be a patrician one day. If he could amass the wealth, and gain a good enough commission for his son in the army, then it must surely be possible.

But this encounter was important. It was imperative that the senator and his daughter had the best of impressions of one of Rome's more ambitious equestrians.

Valerius pointed to the boys on the sand now. They were sparring at each other with swords that glinted in the sunlight. The edges of the swords were dulled, but they could leave a nasty bruise, and in some cases could still wound. Patricius was on hand though with his whip to intervene if it looked like his seasoned Greek youngster was on the verge of damaging his new property too severely.

"I bought that boy yesterday," He explained to the children. "He is untrained, but I think he has handled a gladius before. Look how he moves."

Sure enough, Enoch was poised, well balanced, moving with his opponent, looking at his eyes and sizing him up. Valerius had deliberately mismatched them, giving Enoch a 14 year old opponent. Lykos was fierce and practiced, and ready for his first show bout. He was not the best fighter ever, lacking agility, but he had the potential to rise quickly. He expected him to quickly blood the boy, and show him there was more to fighting than mere anger.

But Enoch was already surprising him. As Lykos thrust, he feinted and dodged, and was quickly re-balanced, ready for the next swing from the boy, which came quickly.

"He is so fast. How can anyone fight so quickly?" Julia asked, lost now in the brutal dance in the sand below.

"It is not so fast when you get used to it." Calvinus replied. Valerius noticed that his tone was slightly patronizing, as he sought to give the benefit of his few years of weapons training. Calvinus would make a fine Roman soldier one day, but he was under no illusions that the raw untrained anger of the newly enslaved boy below was more than a match for his son. He would have to speak to the boy about his tone – Julia had frowned as he spoke, and she looked irritated by him now as he explained the movements of the combatants below.

Suddenly the Greek boy saw his opening. Enoch had stumbled just slightly, missed a step and was slow pulling his right arm free and the more experienced and older boy stepped in quickly, and with a hard sweep, hit the boy's hand hard with the flat of his blade. There was a crack and a yelp of pain, and Enoch's gladius clattered to the ground.

The Greek boy lunged now to finish the job, but Enoch was so quick! A side step and a roll and he was away from danger.

Now the two squared off again, but the Greek boy was careful to keep himself between the smaller boy and the blade. He was well trained, and the bout was over. Not a bad first showing for the traitor's son, but he would have plenty to learn. All the same, Valerius thought he had chosen well enough.

He was about to turn to go when Calvinus gave a shout and pointed.

"Look!" was all he managed to shout as the boy launched himself at the Greek boy. The Greek had misjudged, and raised his gladius too high for what would be a killing blow with a sharper blade. Enoch's judgment and balance had been perfect, and he had seen his gap.

Valerius watched, fascinated as the boy threw himself at his older opponent, and his ferocity carried him through. He hammered into the boy before the blade could find him and his momentum knocked the Greek boy backwards, his blade slipping from his grasp. The boys tumbled to the ground, but the force of the blow had winded Lykos, and he was powerless to stop Enoch's onslaught as the smaller boy… was he…? yes…! he was biting him. It looked like he was about to take a chunk of flesh out of him.

There was a loud wail of pain as the boy mawled his opponent like a dog worrying a bone, and Patricius had to come running over with his whip to separate them.

"Well I never!" Julia exclaimed. "He is like an animal!"

"That is slaves for you." Calvinus replied, shaking his head, but smiling as he saw Patricius lay into the boy with his whip, and then grab his hair to pull him free. "They really are little better than animals for sure."

Julia frowned, but Valerius nodded. His son was right in this. Enoch was little better than an animal, but ferocious animals made fine spectacles. There was no question but that he would keep this one.

The sun was setting by the time Julia had been returned to her father, and pleasantries exchanged. The girl herself had been the model of politeness, but Valerius noticed a certain coldness from her towards Calvinus. The dratted boy had failed to make the impression he had hoped for.

Nevertheless he had managed to hold a conversation with the grateful senator that had led to an invitation to dine with him at the next calends. All in all this had been a most profitable day. He had made good connections with one of the richest men in Rome; his son had made at least a partial friendship with his daughter; and he had uncovered a potential new star performer for the arena.

The slave boy was certainly an excellent find, although he would need to give Patricius some special instructions for him. Lykos had not taken the unorthodox loss, nor the painful bite wound to his shoulder, lightly. He had made a lunge for Enoch, even as the younger slave was being taken back to his cell, and he had issued some very nasty threats. This was a boy who was going to make many enemies very quickly.

But there was also no doubt that the boy could fight, and moreso, could entertain. If they could harness that fierceness and anger without losing it, he was sure that he could recoup his investment on the boy in show bouts within a couple of years. After that would all be pure profit.

But before any of that, there was one duty to perform, now that he had decided to keep the boy. As long as there had been the possibility of selling him on to the whorehouse or sending him back to auction, he had left the boy unmarked, but now he was going to be trained in the Ludus, he was also going to bear the mark of his owner forever. If this boy rose to fame, then in every bout, his body would advertise the man who found and made him.

Valerius sent two of his slaves to fetch the boy while Patricius heated up the fire. When they returned, they were dragging the boy who was kicking and struggling and cursing. The look he fixed on Valerius was pure hatred.

Good. Let him hate. And with that thought Valerius cuffed him across the face for his insolence.

"Boy, you are not free anymore. If you raise a hand against me, or fail to do what Patricius or I tell you without the slightest hesitation and at once, you will be punished. You will be punished severely… more severely than you can imagine. Do I make myself quite clear?"

The slave glowered but nodded his head to indicate it was clear, but Valerius cuffed him again.

"You have a tongue. Use it or lose it. I asked you a question."

Enoch looked at Valerius, and the fire in his eyes burned bright as he replied: "Yes…" Valerius made to cuff him again, but just in time, he said "dominus."

Valerius nodded, as if satisfied, but then indicated for the men to fasten the boy to a table, face down. The boy had seen the fire. He knew what was coming, but he did not resist more now. In the face of the inevitable he appeared to steel himself for the worst.

"You were free once, boy, but now you are not." Valerius spoke and indicated to Patricius to pick up the brand. "You are property now. My property. And here is my mark to prove it."

As he spoke the words, Patricius pressed the glowing hot branding iron to the boy's right bum cheek. There was a sizzle and smoke rose from the searing flesh. The boy gasped, his body going tense, his fists clenching, his eyes squeezed shut as agony swept through his body from the burning scorching pain as he was branded.

Despite his obvious agony, the boy's gasp became a grunt, and he bit down on his own arm to prevent himself from crying out. Many boys were squealing or screaming at this point, but this boy was not a screamer.

Valerius nodded, satisfied. Yes, he was very pleased with this purchase. Very pleased indeed. And with that thought, he went off in search of one of his slave girls. Branding slave boys always made him horny. Tonight he wanted the slave girl that had Julia's eyes.

II
Britannicvs

Britannicus hunched down on the stone pavement outside the fullonica. The sun was high in the sky but the building cast a shadow across the street just here, so it was a good place to wait. Calvinus was at the baths and had issued instructions to have his tunica cleaned while he bathed, as he had spilled wine on it earlier. He had handed his slave a sestertius to pay for the fast service, but Britannicus had a plan. He knew the fuller well by now – he was often sent to take or collect clothing, and the fuller had two boys and three girls who seemed to enjoy Britannicus' visits, just as he enjoyed visiting.

Since he had been sold into service to Valerius Maximus, his life had been kept very busy, and visiting the fullonica was one of the few times he managed to grab some free time for himself. He was eleven summers old now, and a slave too, but that did not mean he did not enjoy playing children's games still, and he played knuckle bones, and hide and chase games with the fuller's children whenever he could.

So when he had been sent with Calvinus' tunica with instructions to have it ready and dry by the time the boy was done at the baths, he had sprinted over to the fullonica, but had given the fuller a sob story about how he had stained the boy's tunica by accident, and he needed to avoid a beating, and please could he help.

The fuller had tutted and complained about the difficulty of washing and drying so quickly, but the sun was hot and there was a warm breeze, and he did not like to see the slave boy being whipped. He was a freedman himself, and had married late in life. He had a soft spot for the barbarian slave boy.

He had taken Britannicus into the back of the fullonica, dropped the tunic in a vat filled with foul smelling and fouler looking urine and explained to him how to tread it to get the stains out.

So the boy had climbed into the vat, stepping into the pee with some distaste. It was cold but stank still. He had started treading out the tunic himself, much to the amusement of Quintus, the oldest of the boys, and about Britannicus' age. Quintus, of course, like all the fuller's children, had done this himself many a time, but it did not stop him giggling at the barbarian slave boy as he worked to get Calvinus' clothing clean. These days Quintus had put on airs as he had been apprenticed to a physician recently, and let it be known treading clothing in pee was beneath him now.

Despite the teasing, the boys fell to talking about the gladiator school, as Britannicus told the incredulous boy about the new biting slave boy who had won his first fight against someone two years older.

"Of course, that was just a Greek boy. He would not have beaten a Celt from Britannia so easily." Britannicus opined. Quintus snorted and shook his head, and conversation turned to the qualities of gladiators from different parts of the empire.

Eventually, and with some guidance from Quintus, the stains in the garment came clean and then the tunica was rinsed, pressed, and put out to dry in the sun. It would not take more than half an hour to dry, and then he could return with it to the baths. In the mean time, Britannicus had half an hour free and a sestertius to himself.

He looked at the coin and grinned. Slaves, of course, were not allowed to own money – but Britannicus had discovered that the rules were flexible depending on how carefully you hid your stash.

Quintus came outside too and stood over Britannicus, eager to continue the discussion they had been having about the Ludus. Quintus had been seriously impressed that Britannicus had seen the new boy, Enoch.

"Nubians produce fearsome warriors too." Quintus declared.

"Everyone knows the Britons are the finest warriors in the world." Britannicus replied.

"If that is so, explain why you are Calvinus' slave boy."

Britannicus flushed. "I was captured, fighting the Romans!" He retorted. That was not so very true. Britannicus had indeed snatched up a sword and disobeyed his father, running off to join the battle in which all the men were fighting. He had been left behind to mind his sister and the animals, but he could not bear to miss his chance at glory in battle.

That was one of the last battles of Britannia – his had been one of the last northern tribes to resist the occupation. But as he had dashed off to join the battle, he had run straight into a group of legionaries on horses. Prepared to die a heroic death in hand to hand combat, the horses had scared him and he had turn around and fled, only to be run down by a single legionary before he could strike a blow.

The legionaries had laughed, as he was sent sprawling with the flat of a blade and then one of them had jumped from his horse onto the hapless boy, overpowering him. His hands and feet were bound and he was left to wait ignominiously for several hours while nearly every man and many of the women from his tribe spent their lives against the overwhelming might of a Roman legion.

That had been two years ago now.

Quintus looked at Britannicus quizzically.

"You fought the Romans? You? ickle teeny tiny Britanniculus?"

Britannicus aimed a kick at Quintus, who jumped back, giggling. He scowled, but he could not stop the colour rising to his cheeks as he remembered the ignominy of his defeat. His cowardice at running… and what had happened next.

When the battle was won, the Romans had gathered up the survivors, as well as anyone else from their hill forts who had not already fled. All now the property of the legion, they were told. His sister had escaped, and he had to hope that she had made it safely to a friendly tribe, rather than being cut down by Romans as she fled. He never found out what happened to her.

But for Britannicus – Gwion as he had been known back then – they had something more in store, because they had discovered that he was the son of the chieftain.

He was taken to the stable. The roundhouses were shunned in favour of the larger space where the tribe had kept their horses. His mother was there too – she had fought in the battle herself, but had been captured alive. They had her stripped and tied to a post and washed the woad from her face as though to symbolically say the battle was over for her. Other than that and a gash to the leg, she was unharmed.

When they brought Gwion into the same stable, she had cried out for him, but the legionaries had just laughed, and the one who had captured him had taken his gold arm ring – given to him by his father. Then he took his shirt and hoisted him onto a table. Gwion had started to struggle when the man had pulled his trousers down, and his mother had started to scream and curse.

Every curse of the old religion did not stop the violation that happened next though.

Britannicus closed his eyes at the memory.

He had been the son of the chief of the fiercest tribe in all of Britannia. He had meant to die a glorious death in battle, and then be taken up into the hall of the warriors, a man already.

Britannicus blinked away a tear as he remembered this.

Quintus noticed something was wrong and fell quiet, sitting down beside the boy.

That was the day he had been made less than a man. After the pain of entry, and the hard thrusting, and the howling and cursing of his mother, and the strange sensation inside himself, that he could never admit had felt good as well as painful – after all this had come the rush of the Roman's seed inside him, possessing him and owning him. He was no warrior that day. There was only shame and the curse of the underworld reserved for slaves and whores.

As the Roman reached his climax, yelling his pleasure to the laughter of his fellow soldiers, a light seemed to go out from his mother's eyes. She would never look at him in the same way again. No more was he the future leader of the war band. Now he was a Roman's whore boy and slave.

His mother seemed to take his rape worse than the one they inflicted on her after they sent him sprawling on the hay. He could still remember her grunting and the pleasure of the soldiers who pleasured themselves on her. But in all of it, she had not shrieked like he had when the soldier's large and hard cock had violently thrust its way into his small and tight anus. That had been the worst pain he had ever felt, and the humiliation of it remained with him now, so that he blushed even though Quintus knew none of this.

The next day had been the last time he saw his mother. She looked defeated, and spoke hardly at all as a soldier had informed them, in broken Brythonic, that he was to be taken with a number of other slaves to be sold in Rome. His mother had been sold to a local brothel, and would not be coming with them.

They had cut his hair, to remove the head lice, they said, and because they claimed it was unmanageable, and then loaded a group of captives onto carts to begin the journey south. It was a long journey – the longest the boy had ever taken, that finally led him to the slave market of Rome a month or more later.

And that was where he had first seen Calvinus. Standing naked on the podium, up for sale, there had been a squeal, and a boy speaking in the language of the Romans. He had picked up a lot of the language by now, and understood well enough, aided by the boy's restless excitement.

"Father, I want a slave boy. Please get me a barbarian. Look I want that one. Oh please father, please say yes."

Valerius Maximus had looked at the slave boy on the podium, but did not say anything at once. Nevertheless he had indeed been looking for a companion for his son, so he had explained later. Moreover, barbarians were cheaper than the more desirable Greeks, so he had gone to examine the boy carefully.

"Is he a virgin?" He asked of the slave dealer, who assured him he was. Valerius frowned and Britannicus turned red. He had been warned, on pain of a severe beating, to pretend not to understand if asked about his virginity. But Valerius seemed to understand and did not press the subject, instead pronouncing, "Well I see no sign of damage or disease"

Britannicus had discovered quickly that few slave boys stayed virgins for long – unless they were sold with a ne serva prostituatur contract. Captive slaves like him would have no such contract – which improved their price, he was told by the other slaves.

"It is important that he is disease free." Valerius was saying, chatting amiably with the slaver now. "My young son deserves a healthy companion, and indeed, this child could be a useful addition to the hospitality of my familia. I may have guests who could use him. If you warranty his lack of disease, I am sure we can reach a deal."

The slaver nodded his agreement and they fell to negotiating the price, as Calvinus hopped from foot to foot in excitement at the prospect of having his very own slave boy.

"What is he called?"

The slave dealer shrugged. "Britannicus" he said. All his slaves from Britannia were called Britannicus. The boy had been told that if he ever used his old name again he would be whipped, so now he was Britannicus.

Britannicus bit his lip. He was blushing as he remembered the examination in the slave market, but Quintus was still here, and he had an idea.

"I bet you a sestertius that I can beat you in a fight."

Quintus shook his head. "No way. A sestertius? Where would you get a sestertius anyway, slave boy?"

Britannicus grinned and held up his coin and Quintus' eyes narrowed, no doubt strongly suspecting how he had come by it. He shook his head.

"Anyway, you are a slave. You are not allowed to use weapons. Imagine what would happen if they caught you."

"So you are scared to fight me?"

"I am not scared. You would lose anyhow."

"In your dreams Quin."

"Yeah? You think you could take me?"

"I know I could. A sestertius says I would."

"Ok Britanniculus, you are on!"

Britannicus scowled at the diminutive form of his slave name that the boy used, but he had got what he wanted – a chance to double his money.

"Meet me at the Ludus gate tomorrow just before siesta. I have to make a delivery so I can get us in. You can say you are helping. If we go up to the stands, we can wait until everyone is asleep and then sneak down and use the practice blades.

Quintus frowned. "You are sure that is safe? What if you get caught?"

"It will be fine. I have done it before."

As they were talking, the Germanic slave from the bathhouse came running up, clad in nothing more than a too-tight subligaculum. Quintus laughed as he saw the boy running up in his underwear, and Britannicus smiled too, until the boy spoke.

"Come quick. Your dominus has finished at his bath and is in a foul temper that you have taken so long."

Britannicus scowled and jumped to his feet as Quintus shot him a sympathetic look. He went through the fullonica, snatched up the now almost dry tunica and sprinted back to the bathhouse to find Calvinus. When he got there, panting and sweating, Calvinus was in a fury.

"Where have you been?" He demanded. Britannicus knew the anger was unreasonable, as cleaning a tunica takes as long as it takes, but as he handed the garment to the boy he bowed his head.

"I am sorry dominus."

Calvinus slapped him hard across the face and then turned and pulled on his tunica.

"You are too lazy Britannicus. I should have you flogged."

Britannicus bowed his head, seething silently as he replied, "Yes dominus." Life was now a constant stream of these humiliations. Calvinus had been so pleased with his slave boy when he had first been taken home, but with familiarity and the constant recognition that Britannicus was his inferior, he had acquired a casual brutality towards him.

Britannicus had learned quickly that rebellion was swiftly and painfully punished. He had learned to accept the knocks and bruises and constant scolding in silence. But he had not really learned obedience. He clutched his sestertius in his hand, the hard metal a comfort to him as his face stung from the blow. One day he would take back his freedom.

Britannicus dreamed of returning to Britannia one day, having bought or taken back his freedom, he would raise a new war band and rid his land of the Romans forever.

One day he would have his revenge. Beating Quintus at the Ludus tomorrow was an important first step.

III
Calvinvs

Valerius Maximus entered the inn with Calvinus. He signalled the boy to sit down at a table, fetched him some watered wine and a plate of food and then moved over to where several soldiers were playing knucklebone dice. The soldiers were noisy, laughing and shouting and praying to the gods each time they threw the dice. They had been drinking through the afternoon for sure.

Calvin watched his father as he placed a hand on the shoulder of one of the soldiers. They began to speak quietly and the boy could not hear what was said, but he saw his uncle pass a small purse, fat with silver denarii, to the soldier, who hid it quickly, and nodded.

His father joked and bantered with the soldiers then for a while, but when they asked him to join their game, he laughed and shook his head, pointing to Calvin. That led to some more jeering, but Valerius beckoned the boy over to where he stood by the door a few minutes later.

"What legion are they, Calvin?" Valerius asked.

The boy looked into his father's eyes and smiled.

"Legio IV Macedonia." The boy answered quickly – the question was not hard – but he knew that was not what his father was really asking. The question was really permission to say what he had noticed, so he leant in closer, and spoke quietly. "The centurion is from the second cohort. They have returned from military duty in Greece just this week, and he is the one you saw enter through the Ostia gate this morning. I saw him look at you as he passed. He has come from Ostia, and you had 'business' in Ostia recently – business that involved the collegia.

"I also heard the men laughing about a brawl they had in Ostia. I think he has dealt with your business for you and you have paid him."

Valerius smiled and nodded. "I knew I could rely on your sharp eye Calvinus. Yes I think the collegia will not be bothering my Ostia trade now".

Calvinus smiled and returned to his food, eating in silence

IV
Pvgna
The Fight

Enoch sighed and sat up on the stone bunk in the small cell that he now called home. He was not alone in here – he shared the cell with three other boys of his age, and it was quite cramped and smelled bad. At least it was not as cramped as other cells where much older and bigger gladiator trainees shared the same amount of space. Those other cells always smelled of man sweat and pee. This one only smelled of pee.

He had only been here a few days, but every muscle of his body ached from the constant training and exercising. The most insistent pain still came from the brand on his bum though. When the red hot metal had been pressed into his flesh he had wanted to scream with every part of his being, but had refused to give his new master that pleasure. All the same it had been the most painful thing he had ever felt, and the stench of his own burning flesh had almost made him vomit.

Burns hurt for a long time though, and this one had kept him awake all that first night. By the following day it had eased off to something much more bearable, but it was still extremely tender, and he had just rolled onto that bum cheek in his sleep. The sudden reminder of that first agony had woken him up and left him blinking in the sunlight coming through the cell window. His brand throbbed as he let it press against soothing cold stone now.

The cell was cool, but outside, he knew, the sand would be baking in the early afternoon heat. All the gladiators were given siesta to sleep off the heat of the day and regain their energy for the next round of training in the late afternoon and into the evening. The sleep was important, he knew already, but today it was elusive.

The training was grueling. Hour after hour of training, practice, running or climbing or whatever else that damned Nubian instructor wanted. He was relentless, and the only good thing was that Enoch was usually far too tired to dwell on the death of his father, or his enslavement, or the fact that he was unlikely to live a long life as a gladiator.

Outside in the heat he could hear something. People playing with swords? And maybe a laugh! A child's laugh too.

Enoch looked and saw the other boys were still in the cell – so who was outside?

He got up and walked out into the corridor. Although the cell doors could be locked, they had not been since his first day at the school. The trainees were allowed to move around and intermingle within the Ludus, and it was only the heavy gate to the outside world that was barred and watched by an old door keeper.

As Enoch walked out onto the sand, he saw immediately who was making the noise. Two boys – one was the slave he had seen in the stands on his first day here, attending his master's son. The other was unknown to him. The two boys had a training gladius each and were fighting each other. The slave boy seemed intent and aggressive, but the other boy just seemed to be enjoying it and as Enoch watched, the slave boy hit his rump with the flat of the blade and cried "Blood! I win".

The other boy shook his head, dropped his gladius, and with sweat running off him, he put his hands on his knees, leaning forward to catch his breath. "OK, I admit it, you are a great warrior".

The slave boy smiled, and the other boy gave him a sestertius. Enoch watched as the boy knotted the coin into a fold in his tunic. He strode over to where the boys were standing.

"What are you doing?"

The slave boy jumped and looked guiltily at Enoch. The other boy looked at him, his expression more curious than alarmed.

"I am Quintus, and this is Britannicus… are you… are you him?"

"Him?" He asked, but he saw that Britannicus had given a small nod.

"The one who mauled Lykos! Everyone is talking about you, you know."

Enoch frowned. Everyone had been talking about him a lot lately. When his father was killed, many people had talked about executing him or torturing him, or cutting off his nose and ears… but this was different perhaps. Now they were talking about him because he had bitten a boy? But also because maybe they had liked what they had seen? That gave Enoch an unexpected feeling – almost like he felt when someone had praised him.

"So what are you doing here?" Enoch asked. "You know if Patricius finds you, he will whip you… and you, slave boy… I think he would tell your dominus, and that would not be good."

Britannicus shrugged. "He never caught me yet. Patricius likes his siesta."

Enoch looked quizzically at the barbarian. "And you were fighting for money?" Britannicus' face darkened slightly, but Enoch carried on regardless. "You think you can handle that blade?"

Britannicus looked at the gladius he was still holding, and then up at the gladiator boy. "Better than you. I am from Britannia – the isle of the mighty."

Enoch snorted and shook his head, but Quintus interjected. "He is good with it you know. He beat me."

"Well he won't beat me."

Britannicus squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest. "Sure I will. You will see that Celts are true warriors."

Enoch shook his head and gave a wry smile. He saw maybe a glimmer of uncertainty on the barbarian boy's face – he had seen him fight before after all, but he clearly felt that three days of gladiator training were not going to give Enoch any advantages. Enoch tended to agree – it was clear that this slave boy had been sneaking in and watching practices on many occasions. No slave boy had a right to hold a sword so well. All the same, Enoch had not been trained by a sicarius. Enoch's father had been a member of the sicarii – the Jewish zealots. It had got him killed, and Enoch was very very angry about that. But he had not died before he had trained his son in the ways of their people. The barbarian was overconfident and far too obvious – he had seen that already in the small part of the fight he had watched.

"I will fight you. We will see whether the Britons are all they say they are." Enoch declared.

Britannicus shook his head.

"You have no money to wager."

Enoch wanted to say that Britannicus ought to have no money either, but he did not. Instead he made his offer, and his threat.

"If you don't fight me, I will tell Patricius what I have seen today. If you fight and win, then I will get you a sestertius. Damn it, I will give you two. However, of you fight and lose, we will all know that the Britons are not great warriors, and to prove it… you will let me put this… " and with that he pointed to the bulge in his loincloth, "in there." He pointed at Britannicus' mouth.

Britannicus turned bright red, but he was backed in a corner. If he did not accept, the boy would know him for a coward, and worse, he would be ratted out to Patricius and suffer his master's wrath too. Enoch knew that at best a whipping would await him – at worst… who knew?! The threat to tell on him was a low blow – but one way or another, he was going to fight this boy.

There was the promise of money too. And surely Britannicus knew that a debt was a debt, and would have to be paid. Even slaves had honour over such things.

Slowly Britannicus nodded his assent and Enoch spat on his hand, offering it to seal the bargain.

The boys squared off. Britannicus' face darkened, but Enoch was watching. His father said you could always see an attacker's intentions in their eyes, and the house slave knew nothing about hiding those intentions. His eyes narrowed and he swung, but Enoch was ready. He parried the blow and stepped inside the boy's reach, grabbing his left hand.

The boy tried to swing again, but now Enoch locked blades, and used the disarming move he had been practicing all morning as he gripped the boy's fist and drove him to his knees.

A feint with his head, a kick with his leg, and the boy fell to the ground, his blade falling free from his inexpert grip. With a growl, Enoch pushed against the hand he held and Britannicus fell backwards his head hitting the sand. He let out an explosive sound as the fall winded him, and then a cry of pain as Enoch hit him in the side of the head with the pommel of his gladius. The boy had turned the blade away to prevent serious injury, but without a doubt he could have killed this boy had he tried. He straddled the slave boy now, and held him pinned to the ground.

Britannicus lay gasping and clutching his face as he lay on the ground. Quintus watched in awe. The whole bout was over in a matter of seconds, and Britannicus had never had a chance.

"Looks like Celts do not make such good warriors after all." Enoch sneered as he climbed off the boy, got to his feet and untied his loincloth. "Now pay your forfeit, slave boy. I bet the Celts do this bit well enough."

Quintus giggled at the insult, but as he saw the look on Britannicus' face, the laughter dried up.

"I won't!" Britannicus retorted loudly.

Enoch did not reply. Instead he leaned down, hefted the boy to a kneeling position and grabbed his head, looking down at him.

"You will, and if I feel any teeth, I will tell Patricius everything that happened here… after I knock those teeth out."

Britannicus struggled, but Enoch held him firm. In the end it was Quintus, who said nervously: "Come on Britannicus, a deal is a deal."

And as Britannicus ceased struggling for a moment, Enoch slipped himself into the boy's mouth.

He had never done anything like this before. Enoch's father had been a Jewish zealot and would have probably killed his own son if he realised he preferred the look of boys to girls. It was something he had never spoken of, but the last year he had been looking at boys in a different way. This one was cute, with his golden hair and lean body. He had not really understood why he wanted this – but he had heard of such things of course.

From the moment he had spotted the two boys fighting he had wanted this. Either boy would do, but he was glad it was the golden haired boy he had fought. And now he was holding that golden hair tight in his hands as he instinctively thrust his hips forward and fucked the boy's mouth.

Sucking a man's penis was the lowest of debasements in the Roman world, and those who did it were reviled. But someone who could force another man or boy to do it was himself more virile, more a man. And for Enoch, his bum still smarting with the pain of his branding, and the memory of a jeering mob calling him all kind of terrible names equally burned into his memory, feeling like a man was something he craved. Having this service performed by this cute boy was an added bonus.

But what he had not expected was how it felt as his penis slid into the warm damp mouth, and the tongue ran along his shaft. As he heard the boy gag, and make small choking sounds, he felt himself stiffen to his fullest extent and he thrust again and again, gripping the boy's hair until, with an explosion of pleasure he found release, gasping and moaning as the good feeling he often felt when he touched himself down there became something much more. For the very fist time he achieved release, and it felt like nothing on earth.

It felt like something spurted from his penis and the slave boy gasped, swallowed, whimpered and looked sick as Enoch groaned with pleasure.

The moment passed Enoch slowly released the boy's head. He bent down to retrieve his loincloth and as he was fastening it, he looked up at the gate onto the sand – straight into the eyes of Marcus. Enoch frowned but the other gladiator boy just turned and hurried away.

"Get out of here before you are found, slut!" he hissed at Britannicus, and the cowed and defeated boy hurried away without a word, his face wet with tears. Enoch went back to his cell where the others were stirring from their siesta.

Ten minutes later the boys were back out on the sand receiving renewed instruction from Patricius. Enoch was tired, but he did not mind having missed some of his siesta. What he had just experienced drove away any regrets. He would have to find a way to do something like that again, and soon.

His father would have disowned him. But his father was dead and he was a slave because of what his father had done. His father should have stayed with him if he wanted his boy to stay a good Jew who only liked girls.

V
Valerivs

Walking the streets of Rome after dark was never the safest of times, but Valerius' business at the docks had led to a meal with a client that had gone on late. The client was a buyer of meligarum, the honey and fish sauce that he imported from Hispania. Less bulky and more predictable than gladiators, this was his most profitable trade but lately he had been undercut by traders in Ostia and he needed to persuade his clients that his Hispanic meligarum was worth the price premium, so the endless meeting of clients was important.

But now he was walking back home, a little cold as an unwelcome drizzle of rain dampened his toga. The slave he had brought with him trudged quietly behind him. Ahead he caught sight of a slight movement, close to some barrels left in the street outside the baker's shop. Valerius did not falter, but his hand slid to his gladius. Probably just a rat after loose grain, and it did not pay to show fear on the streets.

Moments later though he realised that it was no rat. A man came staggering out from the barrels, falling around as though drunk. Valerius was not fooled though and drew his blade. At once there was a shout and two more men stepped out from the shadows of a narrow street behind them. Valerius leapt forward and his gladius flashed in the torchlight born by his slave as it opened the apparently drunk man's throat.

"Vigiles," he shouted, but he knew that would be futile. The vigiles would have been paid off or at least would be far from here. With the man ahead dealt with, falling to the floor, his throat cut and blood foaming through his fingers, Valerius could turn to face the two men behind. Too late for his slave who had dropped the torch as his stomach had been opened. He sank to his knees, dying. Too bad – he had only had that slave a year – another wasted investment.

Valerius thrust and had his blade parried. He knew how to handle a sword, but so did these two. In the dim light he could make out burly forms, scarred arms, short cropped hair. These were ex legionaries no doubt, and that could only mean the Ostia collegia had sent them.

"Vigiles!" He shouted again. No answering running feet. Valerius thrust, and one man fell back but the other lunged at him. Only the dark and quick reflexes saved him as he dodged away, the blade nicking his ear. This was not a fight he could win. There was only one thing to do. Valerius turned tail and ran.

Had he not killed the first man, he would be dead – but with the way ahead clear, and knowing the streets well, Valerius managed to sprint away. Something whistled past him and he heard metal clatter off stone with a shower of sparks. Thank the gods for dark nights and poor aim.

Valerius kept running. The men followed but he was fit still and fast. As he found himself nearing home, he called for his slaves to open the gate and prepare to defend it, and at once the sounds of pursuit ceased. These were assassins. They did not wish for a fair fight.

Valerius staggered through the gate of his house and collapsed.

A narrow escape, but the Ostia collegia was a problem he was going to have to find a better way to deal with.

What he needed was a powerful ally.

VI
Cæna
Dinner

"Britannicus, father wants you to ensure you are washed all over and that you wear the new tunica that Livia has laid out on my bed. Then you are to go to Livia and she will tell you what you need to do to help."

The household was in a frenzy, and everyone was doing their best to get ready for what father had told Calvinus was the most important dinner of the year. Gaius Aurelius, a senator of Rome, was coming to dine with them today. Already the slaves, Britannicus included, had been up since daybreak, scrubbing and cleaning, shopping for fresh supplies in the marketplace, cooking and doing every other chore conceivable to make the household of Valerius Maximus a place fit for a senator to visit.

Calvinus himself had received long instruction on the correct entertainment of the senator's daughter, Julia. He was to make the best of impressions, so he had bathed earlier, and was now dressed in his best tunic, a vastly expensive and extravagant tunica praetexta – a tunic made for a child but almost as expensive as a man's toga. His hair was lightly oiled, and Britannicus had spent much time earlier combing out all the boy's head lice. Livia would be doing the same for Britannicus shortly, although Calvinus was not sure why the boy needed to be quite so well turned out. He would only be serving at tables after all – who would care what was in his hair?

"I wish I knew where my gold pin has gone," Calvinus moaned, not for the first time today. The gold pin was as expensive as the tunica he was wearing, and had been given to him by his father as a lavish gift at Saturnalia. Today would be the perfect opportunity to wear it, but he could not find it anywhere, and nor could any of the slaves. In the end he had to tell his father it was lost, and the sounds of the ensuing thrashing and Calvinus' cries had carried through the house.

Calvinus rubbed his bum ruefully, thinking it would have been less severe if father had been less stressed, but the soreness was nothing compared to the upset he felt that the pin was lost.

As Britannicus ran of to do as he was told, Calvinus set off to find his father again. He was a little nervous, especially after the caning he had received earlier, but at least he would see Julia again. He knew his father wished for them to get along, and although it was too early to count on such things, he had already imagined the girl falling in love with him, and them becoming betrothed before he took his first army commission. In his dreams he would quickly rise through the ranks through his bravery and heroism, and the two would be wed, and he would be given a seat in the senate, son in law to the great Gaius Aurelius.

Ever since he had been old enough to hold a wooden sword, Calvinus had wanted to be an officer in the legions, and eventually a general in charge of one. He dreamed about it constantly, and often made Britannicus play games where he was the conquering Roman, and Britannicus was the frightened barbarian, unable to withstand the might of Rome.

Britannicus did not seem to enjoy the games much, but he was just a slave – what could he know? Once a slave, you were debarred from ever joining a legion in any case. Even if someone set him free, Britannicus would never be allowed to fight for Rome.

To be a general though, he would need to marry a senator's daughter. Julia was pretty enough, and – after all – a soldier need not spend much time at home with his wife, so he was sure she would do.

***

The senator arrived at the house fashionably late. By then Calvinus' father was becoming visibly agitated and had yelled at Livia and the doorman, Caudex. Nevertheless when Gaius Aurelius arrived, Valerius Maximus greeted them warmly and with not a hint of his earlier anxiety. He led them through the garden, making small talk about the quality of vinyards, before arriving at the triclinium, where the two men sat down, and slaves hurried off to fetch food and wine.

"Join us, children," the senator spoke to his daughter but indicated to Calvinus too that he may sit at a stool at his father's feet. The two had not expected to join them for dinner – Calvinus had overseen the re-arrangement of his father's study to accommodate himself and Julia, rather than sit in the hot kitchen. Nevertheless, this was an honour and the boy dutifully sat where he was told, and Julia sat at the feet of her father.

The senator turned out to be a jovial type, all too ready to tell amusing tales about disastrous journeys, incompetent soldiers who seemed to make hilarious but usually non fatal mistakes, and indeed of officers who ordered them to do funny things, like fetching striped paint to paint the barracks walls.

After one story of a new auxiliary recruit from Germania, who had mistaken a toilet sponge for a drum stick, Calvinus was almost rolling on the floor with mirth. Julia, who must have heard it all before, was giving the boy a strange look, but the senator was clearly enjoying himself, and almost seemed to be directing his conversation at the boy.

Valerius Maximus looked at his son, and when Calvinus had a handle on his mirth again, he spoke quietly but firmly:

"Calvinus, I am sure you wish to go and play some tabula with Julia." The stone tabula table had been set out in the study earlier. "When you go, please ask Britannicus to fetch some of the Falernian wine for the senator."

Calvinus frowned and nodded. He had been enjoying the senator's tales very much. The senator bowed his head as the boy got up to leave, accompanying Julia from the room.

"A joy to see you, Marcus Valerius Maximus Calvinus." He said, using the boy's full name and bowing his head as though saying goodbye to an equal. Calvinus flushed with pride and smiled at the man as he left to find Britannicus.

***

It was very late when the dinner finally finished and Calvinus and Julia were summoned. Calvinus walked Julia down the stairs. She had not provided scintillating conversation – preferring to talk about clothing and Egyptian baubles and other such girl stuff rather than the topics Calvinus had preferred – the army, and how the Jewish war had been won or how Britannia had been subdued, or indeed about how to fight at sea with triremes.

Julia had actually yawned when he had been discussing those things, so Calvinus had concentrated instead on beating her at several games of tabula. Indeed, after his fourth win she had declared she had had enough of that too. By the end of the evening, things had definitely been dragging and Calvinus had spent most of his time finishing off bits of food to avoid the need to make more mindless small talk.

And where had Britannicus got to? The boy had been sent to attend the senator at dinner, but surely there was only so much wine he could drink.

But at last the evening was over. The senator was laughing and slapping his father on the back, and saying what an excellent evening he had had. It must have been good, Calvinus noted, because it appeared he had removed his toga at some point. He had flung it back on, but without the ministrations of a slave to do it properly, it hung off him all wrong.

They bade good night to their guests. The senator was talkative, a little drunk and very happy. Julia was quiet, her lips pursed and looking relieved the night was done as they were joined by their slaves who led them to a litter to carry them home.

VII
Britannicvs et Senator
Britannicus and the Senator

Britannicus could remember clearly the moment he had been told about the Senator's impending visit. It was the day after his humiliation in the Ludus, and the boy had been sent to fetch water from the public fountain.

Fetching water was a fairly constant activity, and he often envied the slaves of richer houses where they had direct connection to the aqueducts, and thus were relieved of the need to constantly top up the cisterns. Today though he felt no envy. Being out in the public streets, anonymous and away from the endess streams of demands that marked out his life in the service of Calvinus and his father, Britannicus was able to gather his thoughts about what he had done for Enoch.

He had cried himself to sleep last night, as he remembered how the feel of the boy's penis sliding into his mouth, and the stiff warm shaft thrusting against his tongue and into the back of his throat had made him want to gag at first. He had almost choked on it, and was feeling increasingly desperate to breathe when he had tasted the strange and salty taste of the boy's seed in his mouth.

All this had awoken memories of his first rape at the hands of the Roman soldier who had captured him two years earlier. That moment had haunted his memories ever since, and made him scared of the Roman men who had enslaved him. Nevertheless his new master had never done that to him, and he had begun to hope that he would never again be forced to do any such thing. His master preferred his slave girls to warm his bed, and Calvinus had never yet done anything worse to him than beat him.

But then Enoch had made his deal, and beaten him convincingly on the sand of the Ludus. The boy could have hurt him worse, he knew. In some ways it was a mercy that he had beaten him so quickly, and with so few blows – fewer bruises to explain away. All the same he would never live down the shame of it with Quintus.

What had really made Britannicus cry, though, was that as he was sucking and choking on the Jewish boy's penis, his tongue feeling the unfamiliar feels of the circumcised glans, his own penis had stiffened too. He could not deny that some part of him, deep down, had responded with pleasure to being fucked by the boy, and choking on his penis. And that had frightened him more than anything.

What had he become? What had his captors stolen from him when they had raped him in front of his mother? Was he possessed by some spirit that made him less than a man? Was there some shade haunting him, telling his own spirit that he was not a warrior and never would be more than a slave, his body not his own, and his pleasures at the whim of his master? Did that shade force his body to like it, even when his mind was repelled?

Britannicus was lost in these thoughts as he collected his water, but as he filled his amphora, and lugged it to the waiting hand cart he had brought, someone splashed him.

It was Quintus, also sent to fetch water. Well he was not getting away with that! Britannicus splashed him back, all other thoughts pushed away now by the sudden urgent need to get Quintus very wet.

The boy's giggled and splashed water at each other, dodging, getting under foot of others trying to use the fountain and generally causing mayhem, until they were thoroughly soaked, and some plebeian cuffed them both and grabbed their ears. Both boy's yelped, protesting, as the pleb told them to stop being a nuisance, or else he would get the vigiles to lock them both up.

After another cuff to Quintus' head and a kick up the back side for Britannicus, the pleb went back to filling his own amphora, and the boys sat down, panting from the exertion of their water fight and giggling, but more quietly now. No-one would bother the vigiles over boys throwing water, but neither would anyone stop them receiving a public spanking if they carried on, so wisdom dictated they calm down.

"Look, a frog!" Britannicus pointed, and Quintus peered closer.

"Where?"

"You are so gullible Quintus."

That earned Britannicus a punch to the arm, and the boys lay back against the cool stone, enjoying the sun's warmth, drying their soaked tunics. They chatted amiably for a while, neither mentioning the Ludus, but instead talking about how the green team were looking good for the chariot races this year.

"Britannicus, you lazy dolt! Where have you been?"

Britannicus jumped up guiltily as the door slave, Caudex, loped over to the fountain.

"The dominus is in a fine fit. He wants to talk to you about tomorrow. We have an important guest coming, and you have a tutor waiting"

***

Luckily for Britannicus, the needs of the forthcoming dinner had outweighed the master's desire to have his slave soundly beaten with sticks for his laziness. So instead Britannicus just had to endure a slap to the cheek and a long lecture about how wasting time was stealing from his owner.

That lecture, though, was followed by a more chilling one. Britannicus had never had a tutor before, but curiosity soon became a sinking feeling of horror as he was introduced to the person who would be giving him lessons for the next several hours. This was no Greek scholar, but a woman who Valerius Maximus knew, and she turned out to be in charge of one of the city's more notorious whorehouses.

For the rest of the day Britannicus was taken to a quiet spot at the end of the villa, where the gate opened out to the woodland beyond the wall. He was taught about things he wished that he had never known existed. On top of yesterday's humiliation, that he wisely refrained from mentioning, all that he was taught now left him feeling sullied, and frightened. Not least because through most of what he learned, and saw, he had felt his own body reacting. He had never felt his own penis stiff for so long, and he had touched it once or twice, only to have his hands slapped away.

"You never touch yourself, boy. If you are touched there by a client, enjoy it, but you will be whipped if you touch yourself without permission."

And then he had been shown how to touch a man's penis, using a wooden phallus. She also taught him to lick and touch it with his mouth, and the boy had blushed furiously, hoping nothing he did would give away the fact that this was not actually new to him.

He was given stern warnings about the importance of his potential client. The visitor tomorrow would be a senator of Rome, one of the most important people in the world. To fail to give him the best of impressions could bring ruin to his master, and if that happened, his master would not hesitate to crucify the slave.

With that stern warning delivered, his tutor had finally left him alone to a sleepless night, as he imagined all the old terrors returning, and felt the terrible sick knowledge inside himself – he was no warrior, nor even free. He was just a Roman's whore boy.

***

When Calvinus had told Britannicus to serve wine for the senator, the boy felt himself start to tremble with fear. He had hoped that he would escape notice, and that the evening would pass without incident, but to be asked for by name could mean only one thing.

Sure enough as he had brought wine, the senator had held his hand for a moment and looked into his eyes. He desperately tried to calm his nerves as the man looked into his face, knowing that dire consequences awaited if he should displease this powerful man.

The senator had smiled though and that smile had looked so warm, so genuine, Britannicus had almost responded automatically with a shy smile in return. And then Gaius Aurelius had got to his feet.

"Come with me boy, let us go see if the evening star shines in the sky."

He had led Britannicus out onto the private balcony. The household of Valerius Maximus was modest by comparison with the senator's own villa, but the balcony overlooking the courtyard was still impressive, as beyond the courtyard was the city wall itself, and dropping away from that was woodland, filled with tombs of departed Romans.

In the evening light, and the evening cool air, it was a nostalgic reminder of lands beyond the city, including his own home of Brittania, and Britannicus remembered summer evenings when he had run through woods and splashed through streams and hidden from his sister, or played at sword fights with his friend, Math.

Britannicus blinked away a tear as he remembered this. He had not felt homesick for a while now. He had thought he was over all that. But the senator had noticed. Tenderly he touched a finger to the boy's face, feeling the dampness of the half formed tear.

"What is wrong boy?" He asked, and his tone was gentle. Gentler than his master ever seemed to be. Gentle like his uncle was, the day he had fallen from a tree and cut his head, and thought he might have broken a rib.

"Nothing sir." Britannicus replied, but the senator lifted his chin so that he was forced to look into those eyes again. Kind eyes.

"You have nothing to fear from me, boy." He had said, and then he asked what no one else had ever asked him. "What did they call you back home? Back in Britannia before you were captured?"

Britannicus had swallowed. He had been warned never to answer that question. That name was gone, that boy was dead he had been told.

"Gwion." He replied.

"Gwion. A strange name. So short. What does it mean?"

"It… it means the little weaver sir." Britannicus gulped, but the senator did not seem to be out to trap him. Instead he asked him whether he had been a weaver's son.

"No sir, my father was chieftain of our tribe. I was named because the druid thought I would weave great stories one day." He had replied, and then the senator asked all about his tribe, and about Britannia, and his family and friends and everything else. Britannicus could not hold back the stream of tears that now ran down his face as he remembered all these things and told the senator. Gaius Aurelius, for his part, told him that he had fought in Britannia himself, and spoke of his respect for the fierce Celtic warriors. He had anecdotes too. He spoke of a British chieftain who had become his friend once, and had saved his life too. He spoke with admiration for the things of Britannia, and he also had some hilarious tales of things that had gone wrong, often involving unsuspecting soldiers getting splashed with pee, or mistaking Celtic tallow soap for food, or other such disgusting, but funny things.

Like Calvinus earlier that evening, Britannicus was soon giggling and very much enjoying himself. So much so that when the senator took him in his arms and hugged him, the boy felt none of his earlier fear. Instead he responded as warmly as he would have hugged his uncle, or his own parents.

Gaius Aurelius held him for a long time, and when he loosened his hold just a little, he looked down into the boy's eyes, and Britannicus looked up at him. The training of the day before came back to him, and he knew the senator would kiss him. But curiously now, he did not fear it, and was not disgusted by it. Instead, he found himself wanting the attentions of this man. He smiled, and the senator gently leaned forward, and their lips touched.

The new tunic he had been given slipped off him easily as the senator undressed him, and he unfastened the man's belt, reciprocating. Carefully he undressed the man, and at once found his body being explored by the man's hands. When the senator touched his penis, he let out a little moan. His body was telling his mind what it thought once again.

The next hour was a time of exploration and discovery for Britannicus as the senator explored his body and then had him reciprocate with hands and then tongue. This time, when the senator's penis slid into his mouth, he felt a hint of the shame that he had felt before, and the disgust at having a man's penis in his mouth, but with it was a desire to please this man, and he sucked and used his tongue to play over the stiff shaft, as he knelt submissively at the man's feet, his head held in place by strong, powerful hands.

There was no explosion of seed in his mouth though, and as the senator withdrew his now damp penis, Britannicus felt a little relief that he would not have to taste that again. Instead the senator gently picked him up and took him to a nearby couch. He laid him down there and told him to open his legs.

Britannicus swallowed. Now the fear did return. He wanted to please this man, but he had felt this once before, and it had been the most terrible pain imaginable.

Gaius Aurelius was gentle with him though, and as he opened his legs, he moved atop the boy, and lined himself up, pusing gently until the boy winced. He spoke soothing words and offered encouragement and advice, as he slowly forced his dampened penis into the boy's hole.

Britannicus gasped with pain, his face creasing as he felt the large and stiff man penis fill him, sliding in deeper and deeper. And then despite the pain he felt his body responding again, and his own penis stiffened as the penis found his sweet spot he had been taught about.

"There we go… there we go…" crooned the senator as Britannicus moaned from the pain, feeling the man start to slowly thrust. He looked into the man's face in alarm. This hurt so bad, but still he was stiff. And still the man thrust, harder and harder.

And then when Gaius Aurelius exploded with pleasure, and filled the boy with his seed, the boy found himself crying. Whether it was relief that the pain was done, or sorrow that this man would send him back to Calvinus now, he did not know. Probably it was both. But one thing was certain – if this senator had offered to buy him and take him home tonight, he would have instantly become the obedient slave that he had never truly been for Valerius Maximus or his bratish son.

Britannicus was allowed to go to bed after that, excused from any further duties.

He lay in his bed a long time, his bum sore in a way that was familiar, but his emotions in a new and unfamiliar, conflicted turmoil.

VIII
Poena
Punishment

Valerius Maximus was fuming as he stormed through the gate into his home. Caudex stepped back deferentially, sure his master was about to do something violent, but it seemed the fury was not directed at Caudex. Instead, as the slave bolted the door shut again, his master barked an order.

"Bring me Britannicus. In my study. Now."

Caudex frowned but hurried off to do his master's bidding. The boy was in trouble, for sure. His master was in a fine fury! But what could he have done to anger the master so much?

He did not have to wait long to find out. Britannicus' face had drained of colour when he was summoned, and he took the poor boy to the study, but Valerius Maximus did not dismiss him. Instead he stood by the door, to prevent any sudden flight of the barbarian boy.

Valerius sat at his desk, arms crossed. His fury plain to see.

"Britannicus… that is your name is it not?"

Britannicus nodded, and as a silence lengthened, he added, "Yes dominus." He was a little confused by the question. His father had named him Gwion, but he had only used that name the one time since he had been in Rome, and that had been when the senator had asked him about it.

He still thought of himself by that name, but surely his master could not be angry about that. He had done no wrong there – the senator had asked a direct question. But it turned out that it was not his old name that was the problem, so much as a new one.

"Yes." Valerius continued, pushing breath through his teeth. "Britannicus. Britanniculus. These are names I have heard from the men and boys at the Ludus. They know who you are of course, as I have entrusted you with errands there more than once, have I not?"

Britannicus nodded, and suddenly a feeling of dread began to settle deep in his stomach. He saw where this was going now.

"Imagine my surprise, though, when I went to the Ludus this morning and discovered new graffiti on the wall. Those gladiator damnati do like to amuse themselves by drawing on my walls.

"Tell me Britannicus, do you know what new graffiti I saw today?"

Britannicus shook his head, although he thought maybe he could guess. "No dominus he said, again a little too slowly."

"Well let me describe it for you. It seems someone has drawn a picture. A most lewd picture it is too. Whoever drew it is no great artist, so I would not know who is whom in the picture, except they were thoughtful enough to scratch in some names.

"There is a boy standing, and he is named Lupus. I thought that might be our Greek boy, Lykos at first but then I heard my new slave being addressed by that name. You remember the one no doubt. The one who bit Lykos. It seems that the gladiators think it an in joke – the Roman wolf bites the Greek one. Not that this Lupus is a true Roman, of course. His father was a Jew… but I digress.

"So yes, Lupus is standing, and a boy is kneeling at his feet, and in the picture a very large phallus is in his mouth. And just to make the point, the artist has written a name. Britanniculus. And then they crossed out Britanniculus and wrote a new one underneath."

The master fixed his eye on the slave boy now. His voice went very low as he spoke with a dangerous edge.

"Would you like to know what they call you now, boy?"

Britannicus licked his lip. He looked around, his body trembling, looking like a rabbit ready to bolt. Caudex stepped a bit closer to the doorway, just in case the boy got any ideas, but instead he just looked back at his master, obviously not knowing whether to say yes or no at this point. Instead he said nothing.

"It seems, boy, that you are henceforth to be known as Irrumatulus."

Caudex winced at the word. Literally it meant 'little cock sucker', but the word was especially vulgar. It held the sense of someone totally dominated. Well, of course, all cock suckers were less than men – it was the lowest debasement a man could do for another, to take his penis in their mouth. Worse than taking the woman's part in sexual intercourse. Rumour had it that men who did this had terrible breath.

He looked at the slave boy, who was bright red, his shaking more pronounced. But the master was not done yet.

"So Irrumatulus, you saw fit to provide sexual services for one of my own slaves. You sullied your mouth on the penis of the son of a traitor of Rome. And then, no more than a day or two later, you let me offer your body to a senator of Rome, with my personal assurance that you were unsullied, a virgin and disease free!

"Do you have any idea what this will do to me if word gets out? Do you realise what they will say? Valerius Maximus offered the senator a second hand slave whore to a traitor's son, they will say! They will laugh at the senator for accepting the gift! They will mock him in the senate and use this against him! And if the senator is mocked, just imagine for just one gods-damned second, what the senator will do to me and my business interests." Valerius was shouting now and waving his hands in agitation.

"This could ruin me, you thrice damned whoreslut!" He thumped the table, and roared his anger.

Britannicus jumped backwards in fright and let out a little terrified moan. He was moving from foot to foot now, like he needed to pee. Caudex hoped the boy could keep it in. He did not want the job of scrubbing pee from the floor.

Valerius crossed the space between himself and the boy and suddenly ripped at his tunica. The thin worn fabric burst at the seams as he pulled it down, and a coin went spinning free.

"You won't be needing a tunica in his house again Irrumatulus. You can go naked from now on like the slut that you are." As he spat these words, he watched the coin roll to rest thoughtfully.

"Caudex, we spoke about my account being short a week ago by a few sesterces. You said you would investigate, although at the time I said the amount was small enough not to worry too much about."

Caudex nodded. He remembered the conversation, although he assumed that the money had simply been miscounted. Calvinus was inclined to waste a few sesterces here and there, and he assumed that was what had happened to the money used to pay household expenses.

Now though, Caudex looked at the boy and hoped, for the boy's sake, that the implication of what was being said was not correct. He was young still, but a slave this young had been crucified before for theft, and at the best, a severe flogging awaited him… and that on top of the other accusation.

"When I spoke to the boys at the Ludus," the master went on, "they said that Irrumatulus here performed his favours as payment for a gambling debt. They seemed to think the boy liked to gamble, and maybe had some money too.

"I assured the boys that, as my property, Irrumatulus could not possibly own money that I know nothing of. I told them of the law, that a slave owns nothing, and any money he earns is held in trust by his master instead. And yet they seemed quite sure of the fact."

Valerius's tone suddenly grew dangerously low.

"Tell me, boy! Are you a thief?"

"No dominus!" Britannicus whispered the denial, his voice shaking.

Valerius spat on the now naked boy, and then turned to his door slave.

"Caudex, please go and search the slave quarters, and anywhere else you think this boy could have hidden any money. Please go and do it now, but first put this boy in the cellar and lock the door until you are done. When you are ready, please let me know what you find."

***

It did not take Caudex long to find the loose brick in the wall of the slave quarters. The stupid boy must have been so sure of his hiding place, not realising that every slave in the household had at least considered using such hiding places before. The darker crack around the brick revealed its lack of mortar and when he pulled it free his heart sank. This boy would be lucky to be alive tomorrow.

He scooped out the haul – fully 15 sesterces and also three silver denarii. There was also the gold pin that Calvinus had lost. That pin alone could be worth almost an aureus – maybe more. The whole haul would be worth, maybe, one tenth of the boy's slave price – an unimaginable amount for a slave to have collected – and certainly not at all possible honestly.

When he took the haul to the master, laying it on his desk, Valerius Maximus said quietly:

"Go to the Ludus and tell Patricius to bring me the boys I was speaking to earlier. Have them assemble in my courtyard. Then bring the boy to the courtyard. And bring me a knife and some tongs."

Caudex shivered as he hurried off to do his master's bidding. This was a bad business. A very bad business.

***

The afternoon was turning towards early evening before the boys were assembled in the courtyard. They understood the gravity of the situation, but it was clear they also were enjoying the break from the rigors of the day's training, and actually being outside the walls of the Ludus. Enoch, who was still new to slavery, had appeared quite self conscious as he walked through crowded streets, dressed only in a loincloth, his still quite fresh brand plain for all to see. He looked down, trying not to meet the eyes of people he recognised, no doubt. Nevertheless Caudex heard murmurings and saw people pointing at him as he passed. He visibly cringed when some boys called his name and laughed.

The other boys were more used to their captivity and chatted and laughed, like they were on some grand adventure. The laughter only died when they arrived at the courtyard, and Britannicus was dragged up from the cellar, kicking and screaming and clearly terrified.

Valerius cuffed him as Caudex held him.

Cowed, sniveling but quieter now, Caudex held the boy as the master addressed the assembled slaves. Calvinus was notable for his absence. The master clearly only wished the slaves to witness what happened next.

Valerius began to speak.

"One of you boys has had the pleasure of Irrumatio with this… barbarian whore." Valerius spat on Britannicus as he spoke the words. "Another of you boys saw fit to draw graffiti of the act on my Ludus walls, and I know all four of you have spoken of it to one another."

The boys said nothing, although Marcus dared to nudge Enoch conspiratorially.

"I want to make something very, very clear to you boys. Not one of you is ever to mention that act again. There will be no more graffiti. You will call this boy Britannicus from now on, although he does not deserve the name. You will do this or you will suffer the same punishment as this boy is about to get.

"I have called you here to witness the punishment so that you are in absolutely no doubt about how serious this is.

"This boy's mouth is impure. I have done all I can to keep him free from disease, but he has sought to subvert my will. Moreover, he is a thief, and with his lying tongue he has denied that theft to me, his owner.

"Caudex, hold him!"

And as Caudex held tight, Valerius took the tongs, opened the boy's mouth and used them to grab his tongue. He pulled the tongue out, hard enough that the boy squealed his pain and struggled futilely against Caudex's strong grasp.

"This is the lying impure tongue…" Valerius held the tongs now in his left hand, and picked up the knife with his right. Quickly he jabbed the sharpened blade into the boys tongue, and with a tug, cut it out.

The boy's eyes went wide and now he did wet himself. The other boys watched in disgusted horror as blood gushed from his mouth, and as he dropped his head forward, splattered to the floor.

Valerius threw the boy's tongue at Enoch. It hit him and fell to the floor, leaving a bloody streak down the boy's chest.

"You liked his tongue. There, it is yours."

Enoch looked at the bloodied tongue on the floor and the shocked boy.

Britannicus was hemorrhaging blood from his mouth now. Enoch's expression was a mixture of guilt, shock and anger.

"Pick it up Enoch, or the gods help me, your tongue will be next."

Slowly Enoch bent and picked up the tongue, his look of revulsion barely masking the hatred he was directing at his master.

"Now put it in your loincloth, next to your penis. And keep it there. It is yours."

Enoch's face was murderous as he dropped the bloodied severed tongue into his loincloth, and felt it rest against his penis. His face burned with shame and rage.

Now, with that done, Valerius pushed his slave boy to the floor, and divesting himself of his tunic, he climbed on top. He held the boy down and roared.

"You boys, Patricius and Caudex, will all bear witness if anyone ever asks you. Britannicus here is a liar and a thief, and that is why I cut his tongue out. If anyone of you dares ever repeat what he did with that traitor's son." He glared at Enoch, "You will lose your tongues too."

And with that he drove his penis into the boy's bum, hard, fast and without warning. The boy's body went rigid as his sphincter collapsed under the onslaught and his master fucked the disgraced slave in front of the others, as he coughed up blood, unable to even scream.

Enoch sat down on the edge of the arena, tired but at least not hungry after a midday meal of farro bread and bean broth. They had even been allowed some dried figs as a treat today, which his father had always liked, as they often came from palestine, and had reminded him of home. The food was the only good thing about the Ludus – there was always enough, and although they were not allowed meat, his father had largely avoided meat too on religious grounds, so he did not miss it much.

Today though, they were not in the Ludus. Some rich senator had hired a private arena on the Palatine hill. The place had an unfinished feel about it, having been begun as a theatre, but now plans were afoot to rebuild it as a private arena for the emperor's brother, so Patricius had told them. The senator held some sway with the emperor and his brother, and had prevailed on them to allow the use of the unfinished site for games in honour of his daughter, although a condition had been imposed, that the games were to be private and non fatal. That last condition was not out of any concern for the damnati who would fight there, but merely because the emperor's brother wished to be present at the first lethal combat in his new arena.

Patricius had lectured them on the honour of being allowed to fight in such a place, and the responsibility they had – not least to ensure that they put on a good show with real blades without getting themselves killed. The younger trainees had been especially requested by the senator, and Patricius told them that this was because the senator felt the younger boys were unlikely to actually kill one another.

Enoch was not so sure.

There was no love lost between himself and the other boys, especially Marcus, after the events with Britannicus. Marcus had told everyone what he had seen, and it was that loose talk that had directly led to the punishment of the boy they had been forced to witness.

Marcus saw it differently, of course, blaming Enoch for the boy's misfortune, and making it quite clear that he thought they should have done the same to him too.

If Enoch fought Marcus, he would happily slip his blade between the boy's ribs and enjoy his cries of agony.

Enoch shivered. The day had been arduous as always, but now the evening air was cooler. That was not why he shivered though. Rather, he was remembering what happened after Valerius Maximus had finished raping his slave boy in front of the gathered boys.

Blood had poured from his mouth throughout the rape, and the boy had looked dazed, confused, defeated, as he was allowed to stand, only to collapse to his knees.

The door slave had picked him up then, and showed something of the tenderness his own father had shown when Enoch was smaller, and had suffered from a fever. The slave had walked back to the Ludus with Patricius and the boys, gently cradling the moaning child, still dribbling blood. The procession had drawn something of a curious crowd as they had walked through the market, and again Enoch had to suffer calls and jeering from some boys who had been his friends once. They had spotted the damp red bulge in his loincloth.

Enoch had seen some dogs on the way, and had pulled the severed tongue out and thrown it to them. He had not watched them scrap over the morsel, and couldn't have seen it through his tears had he tried. Back at the Ludus, they had taken Britannicus to the room where Enoch had been branded, not so many days before. The cries of terror that had come from that room had been voiceless, and then there had been a shout.

"Hold him still."

After that, nothing but grunts until a wolf like howl had emanated from the room.

It had needed doing. An open wound would likely have been a death sentence for Britannicus, but cauterising a wound inside the mouth still made Enoch shiver weeks later.

The other boys were giggling over some joke as they walked over to where Enoch sat. They stopped when they saw him, then Marcus and Nathan exchanged a look and Nathan burst into giggles.

Enoch kicked out at the boy. Not too hard – fighting with the others outside of training was strictly prohibited and punishable with a whip. All the same Nathan jumped away angrily and swore at him.

"What are you laughing at?" Enoch asked.

It was Marcus who replied.

"You and your new boyfriend."

Enoch's cheeks flushed red. He had liked what he had made Britannicus do, and until the punishment he had thought of little else in the free moments he could think of anything but training. Since the punishment, he thought of little else but that. It still preyed on his mind just as much as his father's death and his enslavement.

Enoch had been brought up by a devout and militant Jewish father, who would have cited the torah's death penalty on all who engaged in homosexual acts. Thus he could not help but feel some shame. Moreso because he had enjoyed it so much.

Was he really deserving of death? If so then the one true God would strike him down at the first opportunity in the arena. Maybe today in the private games. The slaves in the Ludus were called damnati for a reason. A gladiator was under an endless death sentence unless they could one day earn their freedom, and precious few managed that.

Many would say Enoch deserved that sentence for his father's crimes, but it would at least be just to die for his own crimes – in which case he might as well enjoy his sin of lust for the barbarian boy, and pay for the harm he had caused when God called him to account.

But even with the punishment fresh in his mind, Enoch knew that he would like Nathan or Marcus or even Calgacus to serve him the same way. That moment of perfect pleasure as he had achieved his first full orgasm in the boy's mouth – how could something that good be wrong?

He looked at Nathan again, the boy's infernal smirk was returning. No wonder they had sent him here – the wonder was he had escaped crucifixion when they had found he was spying for Queen Berenice at the golden house. His mother was still there, one of the emperor's own slaves. It was odd to think that this boy had probably actually seen the emperor of Rome. Well if he saw him again, it would be from the sand of the new amphitheatre they were building!

Enoch got to wondering how Marcus had ended up one of the damnati. Valerius Maximus had maybe just bought him as an unwanted slave boy. He did not know of any great scandal, but then Marcus did not tell them much of his life before the Ludus. Calgacus was a war captive, and his father was an enemy of Rome, so it was not surprising he had ended up here.

"He is not my boyfriend." Enoch's retort came after a long pause. "He is just a slut boy who lost to me in a fight."

Marcus swore too now. All the boys had learned a wide variety of coarse language from their older peers at the Ludus. They may none of them have slept with a woman, but they could name her parts well enough, and describe a variety of sexual actions if needed. In truth Enoch felt bad about his words, but could not recall them. He scowled at Marcus.

"Whore!" Nathan joined in.

"Boy-slut!" Enoch replied in kind.

"Cock sucker!"

Enoch shook his head at Nathan.

"I am no cock sucker. I suck no one's cock. That is for effeminates like you, Nathan."

Nathan's face coloured deep red. Nathan was also a Jew. He had not been brought up with his father – they had been separated at the fall of Jerusalem, when Nathan had been a baby still, and they had all been taken into captivity. All the same, he had been taught his heritage, and so the act was as alien to him as it should have been to Enoch. Moreover Nathan was smaller and faster than the others, and had been in training as a retarius. The fisherman gladiator was especially derided as being effeminate, often reinforced by the outfits they were made to wear, and the way they had to win by dodging and ducking.

Today though the boy was in some kind of kilt for the special occasion. They had all had special outfits picked out for them, and it was tempting to think, looking at what Enoch had been given, that safety was not uppermost in the minds of Valerius Maximus, who had chosen these. It appeared the need to present a lot of flesh was more important. There had already been much hilarity about that from the others, who had told him that this was the outfit of a boy prostitute dancer, not a gladiator. Enoch was leaving it to the last minute to get changed into the leather harness.

"I am no homosexual whore boy. That is you, not me." Nathan spat the words. "It is you, if I make you, girly-boy."

Nathan looked ready to ignore the prohibition on fighting, but Marcus placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It is easy enough to find out who is the effeminate." Enoch said, "All we have to do is bet on today's contest. Whichever of you I fight today, you get to suck my cock when I win."

Marcus shook his head with a smirk. "What do we get when we beat you?"?

"That won't happen. If it ever did, I would suck all your cocks."

"I am never sucking your cock." Nathan roared, too loudly.

"Then don't lose."

They heard footsteps coming their way, no doubt to investigate the shouting, and the boys fell silent. Enoch smiled to himself though. Now there was something to fight for, and a reason not to kill these boys. At least, not yet.

X
Lvdi natalis
Birthday Games

It was not fair, Calvinus raged to himself. Britannicus had been his slave boy, and father had damaged him. Now he was refusing to buy him a new one. He understood, of course, that there were problems. His father owed a great deal of money to the money lenders at the forum – loans he had taken out to extend his business interests. But the Ludus had not turned out as many champions as he had hoped for of late, and with the recent death in the arena of Lucius, he now only had Patricius in the company over the age of 20. There were a number of boys coming through, but his father had explained that throwing those into fights to the death would only see them going to an early grave, and him being out of pocket. The Ludus needed more seasoned fighters – now, and not in four years time. For that he needed more money – a trained gladiator cost immensely more than raw and untrained slave boys.

It was not just the Ludus in trouble, either. The Ostia Collegia had all but strangled off his garum trade. A recent agreement with senator Aurelius was promising for the future, but he had lost a whole cargo to a recent act of piracy – no doubt orchestrated by the thugs in Ostia.

So it was that his father had explained there was just no money to buy a replacement for Britannicus. Calvinus had not taken the news quietly though. He had shouted and raged and made it quite clear that he would rather his father had just crucified the little thief for the theft. What use was a stupid mute barbarian who could not even write? He would not even be able to play the defeated warrior in his war games now.

Calvinus had often enjoyed making the boy recite great speeches about falling on the mercy of the mighty Roman army as he enacted beating the Britons or the Getae or some other group in some great conquest. In the games he usually pretended to execute the defeated Britannicus. Now though the boy was useless for such games, as he could not beg for mercy from the Roman conquerors. Britannicus himself had been quite ill for weeks. The stupid boy had lost much blood, and also took a fever that only broke a couple of days ago. Now he was on the mend, but his father had told Calvinus that he was still too weak to do more than very light duties.

Not that there were many duties he was going to be able to perform. Father had ordered that he was never again allowed out of the house unsupervised. He could not be trusted to go to market, or the fullonica, or to accompany him to the baths – as he would normally wait outside, or to the schola in the forum, where he could be beaten for Calvinus' mistakes. Calvinus had suggested he might as well be branded and transferred to the Ludus in any case, as he could not stand the sight of the boy. His father had nodded thoughtfully and said he would consider doing just that when the boy was well.

Father should have just crucified him, Calvinus said to himself once again. In fact, maybe he should have been flogged to death. He would have liked to watch him being flogged to death.

He had seen Julia three days ago, and said all this to her, expecting sympathy. Instead she had huffed and scolded Calvinus for his lack of compassion, as though the slave boy deserved any after stealing from his owners! Calvinus himself had suffered a caning for losing the pin that the little thief had taken. Didn't Julia understand the injustice of that? A free boy being punished for a slave boy's crimes.

He did not understand girls at all. If he had to marry Julia, he was definitely going to spend as much time as possible away from home in the army. He had seen Julia at their home. Theirs was an extremely large villa set on the Palatine hill and in extensive grounds. That this was their town house, and that Julia's mother and younger sisters were in an even larger family residence, overlooking the sea at Stabiae, many many milia to the south really brought home to Calvinus how much more wealthy the patricians were. Gaius Aurelius could take away his father's debt problems with ease! And of course father knew this too.

They had gone to the Aurelius villa because his father wished to follow up their recent successful dinner with some solid business. The Ludus was the most important business. Father had plenty of money invested in younger gladiators, but the lack of seasoned fighters was hurting him badly. And so he had proposed a plan. Calvinus knew all about it as his father had discussed it, wanting his son to understand the mechanisms of business.

Father had proposed a private games for Julia's forthcoming birthday celebrations. He had said that as this was a celebration for a child becoming a young lady, that it might be suitable to showcase some young talent.

Father had explained that he knew the senator would approve and very much like to see the youngest recruits fighting. He did not explain why, but Calvinus thought that this must be because the senator liked children. Julia was so lucky. All that wealth and a good father too. He remembered the dinner fondly when the senator had spoken with him and joked with him almost like an equal.

During the conversation Valerius had casually thrown in mention of his lack of an older gladiator, and how another Ludus had one to spare at a fair price. As he had hoped, Gaius Aurelius at once suggested buying up the gladiator for the Ludus, as his contribution to Valerius' generous gift. That alone would more than offset his expenses in hosting the event.

Father had actually hoped that some of the younger gladiators might be killed, knowing that if that were to happen, the senator would pay a customary compensation for the loss, which could represent a nice profit in the youngest recruits. Here was a chance for him to turn capital into liquid assets, he had explained to Calvinus. He had thus been fuming when he had heard yesterday that the senator had secured a private arena on condition that the fight was to be non lethal by order of Domitian, the emperor's brother. All the same, he had a new gladiator for the day, so all in all the arrangement was a good one.

With the business arranged, there had been frenzied preparations at the Ludus. The youngest boys were going to get their first show bout, and they had to be thoroughly prepared. Calvinus had been allowed to watch some of the training sessions, where Patricius had cursed and screamed at them, and used more than a little of his rod on their bums, as he taught them not just how to win a bout, but how to actually avoid killing the opponent when using true blades.

So today was the day of Julia's birthday, falling in the month she was named for. Some had thought senator Aurelius odd to name his daughter for the Julii, a familia that had all but wiped itself out, but he had always said it was in honour of the gods and not their offspring. Much more likely though that she was named in honour of the emperor's daughter, Flavia Julia.

Calvinus was invited to the games of course, although he could not bring Britannicus. His useless slave boy dressed him in his finest tunic, and fastened it with the gold pin that he had attempted to steal. He did so silently of course. Forever silent now. The boy had lost weight during his illness, and looked gaunt and defeated. Calvinus cuffed him and told him to get out of his sight as soon as he was done.

The pitiful boy was almost incapable of communication now, being unable to write, of course. If he could write, they could have got him a wax tablet to write in, but the boy was a barbarian from the north, and it was well known that such barbarians did not have the intelligence for writing, so any schooling would surely be more wasted money.

With such thoughts in his head, he went to find his father and the litter that would take them to the site of the private games.

***

Julia smiled politely at Calvinus as he greeted her formally, wishing her the good fortune of the gods on this propitious day. He had been made to memorise a short speech, full of big words he would never normally use, and he recited it now, feeling self conscious, and moreso as Julia listened politely but not warmly.

When this was done, and his father had spent more words on Julia and her father, they were ready for the games to begin. Calvinus was gratified to find only a very small retinue attending the games. This was surely a mark of the high favour that the senator held his father in. That could only be good for the future.

"Did your mother not wish to come?" Calvinus asked, and Julia's eyes narrowed at once. Clearly this was a poor choice of subject.

"Mother says she believes it is appropriate to await in Stabiae, as father's affairs are not always to her taste." She replied after a long pause.

Calvinus raised an eyebrow but knew better than to pursue that subject. Julia did, eventually, add a little more. "In a couple of weeks I am to return to mother for the remainder of the summer."

Calvinus nodded.

"I will miss you." He offered.

Instead of saying the same about him, Julia just huffed. That had been her opportunity to invite him along, and that she had not done so stung him. He would have liked to see Stabiae. He had heard that the villas of the patricians were a sight to see, and the cool sea air a welcome relief in summer.

The senator turned out to be a much warmer host than his daughter, and as the first pair of boys took to the sand, he spoke avidly of all the boys his father had trained before, and how some had become almost legendary. He seemed very knowledgeable, and quite animated at times, shouting out advice to the boys below, such as "Swing low", "back off now", or "quick, he is open." It reminded Calvinus of the training ground, with Patricius shouting at them.

Gaius Aurelius sat next to Calvinus now, his daughter on the boy's other side, and he put his arm around Calvinus' shoulder directing his attention. "Look at that, my boy. That was a first class move. That will be one to watch for the future."

And indeed with a kick and a blow to the arm that left one boy clutching his wrist in agony, writhing on the floor, disarmed, the other boy turned to the watching senator to await his judgement.

Gaius Aurelius looked at his daughter, as though to give her the decision, although Calvinus knew this was just an act today. Julia nodded and held her thumb close to her body, and the defeated boy was allowed to leave the sand and lie on the stone seat – alive, although nursing his injured hand.

"You are generous to have let him live. That boy did not put up much of a fight." Calvinus remarked.

Julia scowled.

"I do not wish to see my birthday awash in the blood of boys." She retorted. "And drop the pretence. We both know that father said we were not to get the boys killed."

Calvinus raised an eyebrow. Girls were so soft sometimes. "Why not?" He asked.

Julia told him about how Domitian had made his wishes clear. "So why not have the fight at the Ludus?"

"It suits father not to lose the assets of your father's Ludus." Julia bit her lip, and did not speak for a while after saying that. Perhaps she felt she had said too much – but if she had said too much before, she definitely did now when she finally chose to speak again.

"Father does not like your father much. He thinks he has ideas above his station. He says your father is in heavy debt, and has overextended himself. My father does not want to waste the capital in the Ludus just so he can service your father's debts."

Calvinus flushed and looked ahead angrily. Surely the girl had it wrong. What did girls know about cash, debts and capital in any case?

His face red with anger, Julia's next words sounded like they were an attempt to mollify him, but there was a chilled edge to her voice that seemed to belie that.

"Don't worry Calvinus. Father likes you, a lot."

***

Enoch was facing Nathan now. The two boys were led onto the arena, as Valerius explained to the senator the irony of the matching.

"They are both Jews, you see." Valerius said as he drank deeply from his wine cup. The day was hot, and the wine was the senators, so he had enjoyed a good deal of it already. "Enoch's father was killed in his attempt to avenge the Jews, so I thought it would be ironic if I put his son only up against Jews until his first kill at least. Then we can market him as the Jew killer. The gods know there are enough Jewish slaves to go around."

"And if the boy dies before his first kill?" The senator asked.

"I would not put money on that happening. You wait until you see him fight. We found that he is quite skilled with those wicked short Jewish knives, so we have given him two short weapons to use today. That against a retarius will make a most interesting match. This should be very entertaining."

And sure enough, it was indeed a thrilling bout. Despite his anger at Julia's words earlier, Calvinus found himself quite caught up in the match, and again the senator moved closer to talk about what was happening.

Calvinus had seen Enoch in training, and felt confident to explain how the knives being used gave him a short reach, requiring him to move in close, in danger of being netted.

For his part, Nathan was swinging that net dangerously and thrusting fast and hard with his trident, and it was all Enoch could do to stay out of range of the murderous steel. Calvinus could hear Patricius bellowing below, no doubt furious at the lethal speed the boy was employing. One trip, or moment of inattention by Enoch could easily be his last.

Nathan lifted his trident as though to throw it, but nimbly blind sided Enoch, throwing the net instead. The boy was snared, and Julia involuntarily gasped as Nathan now threw his trident with force to kill, shouting something that Calvinus did not quite catch, but thought maybe was 'abomination'. Enoch was fooled by the net but still managed to drop to his knees off centre so that the trident struck the sand, passing mere digits from his face.

One of Enoch's blades had been torn from his grasp, and the other was ensnared in the heavy net, but Nathan was without a weapon now. How many times had Calvinus hear Patricius shout not to throw away your weapon, but the boy had done just that in what had clearly been intended as a lethal blow.

Now Nathan eyed Enoch's fallen blade, but as he took his eyes off his snared prey, Enoch lept, net and all and tore his hand through a hole in the net, so that his blade was free enough. The blade slid into the boy's ribs, glancing upwards, tearing a huge gouge in the boy's chest.

Julia visibly jumped and winced as blood splashed down on the sand, and Nathan fell back. Whether Enoch had pulled his blow deliberately, or whether the boy's rib cage had prevented a more penetrating blow was not clear.

Patricius was taking no more chances though, leaping furiously onto the sand, seizing Enoch's arm and raising it to claim his victory.

Nathan looked ready to snatch up a blade and carry on, despite the blood that was now pouring down his chest. Patricius barked some command though and the boy bowed his head before looking up to the senator and his daughter for their verdict.

The senator clapped, as Julia offered the sign to spare Nathan's life. "Amazing!" The senator enthused. "That is one dangerous boy you have there. I would like to have audience with him later."

***

After that the new gladiator the senator had bought for the Ludus fought a lion captured for the event. This was meant as a grand finale, where the gladiators would all have a duty to protect the guests should the new gladiator fail. The spectators were very close to the action, and the added thrill of the danger made this a rare event, although the senator asked Julia to retire to the villa, as it was not right to subject a girl to such dangers. Calvinus commiserated with her as she got up to go, and said he would tell her all about it later. Julia just huffed and stalked off with a parting shot:

"It is okay Calvinus, Father wanted this event to be with you, not me."

Calvinus had not known what to make of that. He had heard that girls became irrational at some point in each month. Maybe Julia was just acting that way because of the woman's weaknesses. He shrugged and went back to enjoying the spectacle, gratified by the protective arm the senator put around him.

The lion had been expensive for Valerius Maximus, but the new gladiator put on a good show with it, and the thrill of fear they all felt when it looked like it may jump at the spectators – until Patricius blocked its path – made this a most exciting show.

Nevertheless the senator was in quite a hurry to go and see the winning boys as soon as the kill was made. Calvinus could not help but wonder whether his father really needed to spend all that money on an actual lion.

He was very glad he had done though. This had been a wonderful event. Alone with his father now, Calvinus told him what Julia had said. When he mentioned the part about the senator liking Calvinus and wanting this event so that he could be with him, Valerius Maximus looked at his son, his eyes glowing with fury. Calvinus flinched. Certainly Julia's words had been unkind and unsettling, but couldn't his father see it was just the ravings of a moon struck girl?

But his father stalked off, leaving Calvinus alone, but for the slaves cleaning up. Well if the senator really wanted to be with him, he would go and find the senator and chat with the gladiator boys too.? He followed after the senator who welcomed him warmly as they spoke to the gladiators. It was an enjoyable time until the senator's house slave came rushing in to fetch him….

Valerius strode through the extensive gardens of the senator's villa, and then stopped himself at the colonnade, bowing his head to collect his thoughts. The Ostia Collegia were demanding huge amounts of 'religious tax', and for reasons of their own, they had also bought up his gambling debts. He cursed his recent run of bad luck – the greens had unexpectedly lost in the last chariot race, and both a horse and charioteer had to be put out of their misery. He had been so sure the greens would win. The fall had been such a random stroke of chance, that he could not help but think the gods had deserted him.

Now with no money to pay for new cargo or slaves, and the Ostia collegia at his throat, Valerius was desperate. And then there was his son, Calvinus. The boy would need a commission to make the impression in the army he hoped for, but if they were reduced to penury what would happen to the boy? He had put all his hopes into forming a relationship with Gaius Aurelius, but now it turned out that the only thing he had that the senator really wanted was Calvinus himself. And he was not getting the boy. Over his dead body would the senator take his son from him.

A man might take another man or boy to his bed as readily as a woman. To have sex with weaker men was a sign of virility, but both law and custom dictated that one did not have sex with those who would one day be citizens. That would be to denigrate the very meaning of citizenship. He could fuck every boy in the Ludus happily, but Calvinus was not going to be so degraded.

Gods, if that happened and it ever became common knowledge that Calvinus had been the senator's catamite, what then of his military career? Who would respect a senator's bed boy? And a respectable marriage to a senator's daughter would be quite impossible. It could not happen. It would not happen.

Valerius was feeling woozy. He had been drinking heavily through the games – the sun had been so hot after all – but he knew he could handle it. Worse than the wooziness was the fact he was feeling horny. He had been with a slave girl before the games started – the one he liked for the eyes like Julia's. He had been kissing her, and then his fingers exploring her body, removing the small clothing he allowed her, when Calvinus had interrupted with is ridiculous bleating about that slave boy of his.

Never had Valerius wanted to kill Calvinus more than that moment. He had shouted at him to get out and stop pestering, but already the time was too short. He had cursed, and dressed quickly, uncomfortable as his unsated passion showed in his body.

That had been earlier, and then there had been the games. The sacrifice of a few moments of pleasure with the slave girl seemed worth the benefit of the senator's attentions. And yet the only subject of his attentions had been first Calvinus and now the thrice damned slave boys who had been fighting. The man's appetites were insatiable, and what did he have to show for today? A new gladiator, yes, but also yet more unaffordable debt.

Julia came out him into the garden. Gods she was beautiful. Those eyes – he could lose himself in those eyes. And the way she wore that dress – she had changed since the games, and he could not help but imagine her sleek naked body as it slipped into the fresh clothing.

He saw her hesitate when she saw him, but then she approached, the dutiful host. She told him there would be food ready as soon as her father returned. Valerius realised he really was quite hungry. How long since he had eaten? He was not sure – he had forgotten to eat amidst all the preparations. Had he had something this morning? He shook his head. He could not remember, and it was too much effort to try.

When she picked up a goblet of wine from a waiting slave, he did not refuse it, swallowing the drink quickly to sate his thirst and stay his hunger, watching the slave girl walk off back to the house to prepare for the guests.

As Julia moved, he noticed how her gown seemed to flow with the lithe movement of her body, and her hair glinted tantalisingly in the sunlight.

"Come sit with me." He had said, and the girl had complied. Surely that was a sign that she felt the same for him as he felt for her. Calvinus must have been mistaken about their disdain for him – or at least, if the senator felt that way towards him, surely his daughter felt differently. She would not have told that to Calvinus otherwise. Surely that meant she was on their side. In fact she probably secretly liked him as much as he….

He could smell the scent of fresh rose oil, and her skin – so smooth, so pale…

Valerius closed his eyes for a moment, and then spoke with her some more. He complemented her beauty, and her smile was so warm, so genuine, her words of appreciation all coming out in a rush.

The next moment was impulse alone. Valerius would wonder and wonder why he had done this for the remainder of his life, but with the failure to consummate his time with his slave, all the wine on an empty stomach, the worry for his future and his son, and this beautiful and sweet girl smiling warmly, wanting him as much as he wanted her, he leaned forward, pressed his lips to her and kissed her passionately.

And then it had all started to go wrong.

Julia tried to pull away, but now he had acted, he could not leave this girl. He held her head to his, his hand entwined in her hair and another arm around her, holding her as she started to struggle. She wanted to get away, but he could not let this moment pass. He would not be thwarted again. He had suffered too many setbacks today. This was his moment, and he was going to seize it.

Valerius started tugging and pulling at her gown as his lips were pressed to hers, his tongue penetrating her mouth, exploring, finding her tongue, as he ripped the gown, tearing the lower half free. His one hand explored her now naked buttocks, and then that delicious spot between her legs. Soon he was pulling his own tunic free.

As his clothes dropped to the ground, he pushed her to the floor too, one hand pressed against her mouth so she could not cry for help. As she tried to push him away, he resisted, knowing that he was doing nothing to this girl that her father did not want to do to his own son. This then was justice. She struggled hard now, trying to break free. For a moment she almost made it, managing a cry for help, before he had her again, and pushing her legs apart, he lined himself up against her sheath. With a shudder of pleasure he pushed his way in to her tight virgin space.

The next few minutes were a frenzy of passion and struggle. At some point Julia managed to scream again, but the man was too lost in what he was doing now and it was only after he reached his climax that he felt vigilese pulling him from the prone girl, sobbing on the floor. As he struggled and threatened the vigiles, and he was marched away, he passed the ashen faced slaves who had come in at Julia's screams.

"Take him away, and send word to my father." Were the last words he heard Julia's distraught voice cry as he was led away.

XII
Responsvm Ivli�
Julia's Answer

Calvinus looked nervously at his slave. This was the first time Britannicus had been allowed out since his punishment, but his father's orders did not seem so important just now. They were standing at the gate of the Aurelius villa on the palatine hill, and they had been standing there for some time now. Calvinus had come seeking audience with Julia. He had brought a gift with him – a basket of oranges just in from the port of Ostia. The fruit was grown in some distant part of the empire and brought in by ship at vast expense, and he had to raid the emergency cash reserves to buy it – but to come on a trip such as this with no gift was unthinkable.

The door keeper had vanished with the fruit and the message that Calvinus wished to speak with Julia, and had not returned. Several times he had all but lost his nerve and prepared to turn tail and return home. Nevertheless he knew he had to do this. He had to see Julia before it was too late.

It was hot, and there was only a little shade from a nearby tree, which he shunned, not wishing to give the impression he had left. They were keeping him waiting deliberately – he knew that. Hoping he would go away.

The boy badly needed a drink. The slave looked ready to drop too. That would not be propitious. If Britannicus failed him now he would have the boy whipped, and he whispered that encouragement to him.

At long last the gatekeeper did return. His face was grave, but he unbarred the gate and led the boys inside.

"What do you want, Calvinus?"

Calvinus shuffled his feet nervously at Julia's hostile greeting. They had been taken into an atrium that opened out onto a garden, and beyond that were panoramic views of Rome that would have seemed stunning had he felt less tired and frightened.

Calvinus was not able to meet her eyes as he began to speak. He had rehearsed his words so carefully, but now they came out too quickly, tumbling one over another.

"Julia, I wish to beg mercy for my father."

Julia huffed and turned to look out over the grounds and the city beyond. Calvinus swore inwardly. He had spoken too quickly – he should have tried some pleasantries first. He had forgotten to ask if she had liked the oranges. Calvinus watched the girl, waiting for her to respond.

"That is no longer up to me Calvinus. You might wish to speak to my father."

Calvinus hesitated, but there was no going back now.

"It is up to you too. You… you are just a girl after all. You cannot even speak in court… so there would be no need to say anything in public… but, well its such a small thing… maybe you could… really you would hardly have to do anything at all… if you told your lawyer that you consented… that you asked my father… that you wanted…"

He got no further. Julia had turned to face him with a growing look of incredulity as he had stumbled over his words. Now she whipped her had across his face, slapping his cheek. Calvinus cried out and instinctively clutched his face, feeling the sudden stinging pain of the blow. Britannicus was looking at him curiously, and Calvinus was reminded he had done this to the boy many times. If he dared say anything like "now you know how it feels," he would definitely have the boy whipped.

Damn her. He was not some slave boy to be slapped. Who did she think she was? She may have a senator for a father but she was still just a girl.

Julia was breathing hard, seething with anger, but she said nothing. She just glared at the boy and it was Calvinus who finally broke the silence, when he had mastered his own anger.

"Julia, it is not so bad. What is the harm to you? And you could save my father, I would be in your debt… "

She made to hit him again, and Calvinus cowered backwards.

"Shut up you foolish boy!" She shouted, her anger giving strength to her voice. "Don't you dare ask me that again. And what do you know? Even had I consented my Father would still have yours killed for this. I am not some slave slut girl of his. I will be a citizen one day.

"You are so stupid and immature Calvinus. I wish I had never met you or your disgusting father. You know nothing and you care nothing. You deserve all that is coming for you."

Calvinus watched stunned as Julia began to cry. A slave stood at the room entrance now, looking to see if the domina needed assistance, but Julia waved him away. Calvinus followed the gaze and when the slave had gone, he went for his alternative plan.

"Julia, if you don't do what I ask… if you don't tell your lawyer and your father you wanted it and beg for my father's life… well, I know how you like to bathe at the women's baths twice a week. And, well, you know, sometimes bad things happen in the streets between here and there. People can get attacked. You know my father knows some… nasty people."

Julia's mouth dropped open in astonishment and her face darkened with redoubled anger.

"Are you threatening me Calvinus?"

"It is not a threat, just a warning! Look at Britannicus here. Show her your mouth Britannicus. There are some people you do not want to cross."

Julia shook her head and laughed mirthlessly.

"It is a threat, and a bad one. I told you, you stupid boy, you are too immature. Once more and I will tell my father, and then you can join your father in the cells.

"You think you can threaten me with your father's hired thugs? You are so naive Calvinus. You have no idea. My father has already paid off your father's men. He did that weeks ago. And did you know that my father is in Ostia today, talking with the Ostia collegia? Oh I do wonder what they are talking about, but whatever it is, I doubt it is good news for the son of that rapist.

"You and that stupid slave boy of yours. How I wish you had not been out with your father last month on the day I arrived. The moment my father set eyes on you, I knew what he wanted. He is always the same. And he always gets what he wants you know. That is a privilege of being a senator of Rome. Not like some trumped up equestrian boy with ideas above his station and his pretty barbarian slave."

Calvinus turned red. He had been stupid to come here. He was just making things worse. He wanted to point out that the emperor was descended from equestrians. He wanted her to acknowledge him and want him, and help him and be nice to him for the sake of all the gods. Why did she hate him so much?

"You said your father likes me. Doesn't that count for anything?"

And now Julia laughed again, and smiled wryly as she looked at the discomfited boy.

"Oh that counts for a lot, Calvinus. Be assured that counts for a lot. My father also likes your father's Ludus. If your father had not been such an animal, I think my father intended to adopt you once he had taken possession of that. And be assured, my father already had every intention of possessing the Ludus very soon. That is why he did not want the slaves dead."

Calvinus paused to think about that. The senator had been scheming against his father the whole time? How much of the trouble with the Ostia collegia had really been over the garum trade? The assassin… had he really been sent by the collegia, or did that actually come from a man who would adopt the orphaned son? Slowly Calvinus began to realise that his father had been manipulated and played. He blushed as Julia's scowl became a smirk as she saw understanding dawn in his face. But there was an olive branch too… the man had spoke of adoption.

"So does that mean he will help me? Maybe… maybe if things turn out badly, your father could adopt me still… maybe I could come and stay with you in Stabiae at least?"

Adoption was a last resort, but Calvinus knew the situation was that serious. If Julia would not help, the future for his father looked short and grim. Calvinus really wanted to stay with his father, but he had been adopted before, when his natural parents had died. He did not remember them, so this would be worse. He had no remaining relatives to take him in now. If at least he could gain the patronage of Gaius Aurelius, he would have the step up he needed. The adopted son of a senator would be a patrician too. Gaius Aurelius had only daughters, so he would stand to inherit too. He would have his army commission, and then a step onto the Cursus Honorum. He could still achieve all he had hoped for if the senator might just take him in.

Calvinus did not want to lose his father, but he could not help but feel that this might be a great opportunity too. The senator had already considered adopting him! Calvinus felt seeds of hope for the future begin to germinate in his heart.

Julia had said several times now that her father liked him, and he knew the truth of it. The man was friendly and good fun, and the dinner he had been allowed to share in was still fresh in his memory. He had liked the senator, and even the shocking news that he was plotting against his father did not quite cause Calvinus to rebuff the man. Not when there was so much to gain. Certainly his father had attacked his daughter, but that had not been his fault. Surely the senator was not a man who would hold that against him, when he himself had been plotting against them, maybe even paying off assassins.

But then Julia shook her head and trampled on the budding hope. "Mother will never allow you in our villa at Stabiae, Calvinus. You and your slave boy will always be unwelcome there. As for father – if he wants to adopt you still, he will, and you can stay with him here in Rome or perhaps be allowed as far as our estate at Misenum. But I doubt it. Your stupid fool of a father put paid to all that. For all I care you can die with him, and I have told my father I will never speak to him again if he adopts you."

"But surely your father likes me still. It is not my fault, what my father did."

"Yes, he likes you." Julia nodded, but her face was no softer.

"Well… if he won't adopt me… If he likes me, will he help me? what will he do? What does it mean for me?"

"It means, Calvinus," she said, turning her back on the boy again and walking from the room now. "It means that you are well and truly fucked.

XIII
Ivdicivm
Trial

The praetor raised his hands for silence as he stood up from the curule chair. At once the crowd below the plinth in the forum fell quiet and watched expectantly, as Valerius Maximus was brought before the magistrate. Despite his incarceration, he looked clean and well presented. Beside him stood his lawyer, wrapped in a linen white toga.

Valerius looked out on the sea of faces and saw his son, with his attendant slave. The slave seemed to be in discomforted by his surroundings, and walked nervously. His son was stony faced, as he met his father's face. Calvinus would not want to betray emotion. He was a good boy, Valerius thought. He would make a fine Roman one day.

The lawyer for Gaius Aurelius began his prosaic arguments, and Valerius cringed as he was made out to be a predatory monster. They knew about how he slept with all his slave girls, but so what? The girls were his property and there was no law against such things. No doubt this very lawyer would go home and do the same with his girls tonight – unless he preferred boys that was.

They also unravelled his business dealings and gambling, making things sound so much worse than was the case. Nevertheless the only real evidence was the assault itself on Julia, and here Valerius hoped his lawyer would earn the hefty fee he had paid, exhausting his last cash reserves.

"In essence," the lawyer summarised, "This monster has committed stuprum – the disgraceful rape of a freeborn girl, virgin daughter of the great senator, Gaius Aurelius. For this heinous act, he should be executed. No other sentence can be considered."

Now the praetor turned to Valerius' lawyer and the man stood up and began a well rehearsed eulogy of his virtues. The crowd was not buying it though. Julia was a girl from one of the wealthiest families in Rome, and they sensed blood. Valerius looked at his son, and the boy was still composed, but he looked pale. And that damned slave was shuffling around like ne needed to pee. He really should have crucified the useless boy. Gods, to think the little thief might outlive him! That was not right.

"The simplest fact of this case, however, is quite clear," the lawyer declared. "Valerius Maximus, a noble Roman, friend of Senators, equestrian in good standing, was the victim of a politically underhand attempt to have his wealth seized by treachery."

Valerius saw Calvinus smile slightly at this point, as the lawyer carefully chose his words. The man was good, painting the picture of all the underhand machinations Gaius Aurelius had been involved in to seize his wealth, without once mentioning him by name or bringing an accusation. An accusation would have to be answered, but the innuendo showed, surely, that he, Valerius Maximus, had been badly wronged by the senator. Calvinus had brought him that information just the evening before, and although Valerius raged at what the senator had attempted, he also saw the benefit of the knowledge.

And now the lawyer went for the killer blow they had discussed. Having brought to bear all the suggestions of attempts on his life and attempts to defraud him of his goods, the lawyer delivered the defense that he hoped would save him.

"Valerius Maximus insists the assault simply never happened. This is a fabrication of his enemies to besmirch his honour. Sadly we cannot ask testimony of Julia, the girl in question, as her testimony will be unacceptable to this court on grounds of age and sex. Other than her, all the testimony has been received by slaves of the household who witnessed the alleged act, but of course a slave's testimony is only admissible if extracted by torture. Gaius Aurelius has chosen not to torture his slaves that were present.

"Thus I move that there is no valid case brought to this court to answer, and that this noble equestrian be set free at once."

There was a murmur from the crowd, and Calvinus looked almost triumphant, lifting his head haughtily. Nicely done, thought Valerius. First sow the seeds of doubt, and then finish off with that legal blow.

But the prosecution was not done. Their lawyer signalled and a young man stood up and joined the others on the podium. He was trembling as he gave his name, and rank as an equestrian. Barely old enough to be a citizen, he was nevertheless of age, and he was allowed by the magistrate to address the assembly.

"Where were you on the day this man raped Julia?" asked the lawyer, and the lad began to explain how, on the day, he had been invited to attend Julia's birthday celebrations, and had been waiting inside for the food to be served. The young man was a little chubby, and this raised a titter in the crowd, as it was obvious why he had been waiting near the food.

He seemed uneasy as the crowd laughed, but warmed to his subject, describing the food that was to be served in rather too much detail until the praetor asked him to move on.

The boy then explained how, when there was a scream from the garden, he had followed the slaves outside, and come across the scene of Valerius Maximus violently raping the girl.

Valerius' lawyer looked horrified, and could say nothing as the praetor reached his verdict. He had not known that any freeborn citizens had arrived at the villa before Valerius. Valerius had left the games early, and he had thought – they had all thought – that only slaves had witnessed the event.

There was an excited buzz in the crowd as the praetor rose to deliver his verdict, and it took a few moments after he had raised his hands for silence for it to be quiet enough to be heard.

"Valerius Maximus is found guilty of stuprum," the praetor spoke gravely, and his voice carried over the now hushed crowd. "And for his crime, he will be executed. As a Roman citizen, he will be beheaded on the morning tomorrow, the calends of August".

Valerius saw Calvinus looking white, and lost. The crowd roared its approval of the verdict, but all was not done yet. The lawyer for Gaius Aurelius raised his hand to speak and the praetor commanded silence.

"Praetor, I have instructions from the Ostia collegia to make this petition on the event of a guilty verdict." The lawyer waved a scroll and the praetor indicated that the lawyer should proceed and read from it.

"Whereas the Ostia Collegia has made debts of over 1000 aurei to Valerius Maximus, and whereas there has been repeated default on repayment of the loans, the Ostia collegia claims the right to foreclose on all the loans of Valerius Maximus, and to take ownership of all sureties and possessions that he owns, to be disposed of to cover the debt. The Ostia collegia does not believe that there are sufficient sureties to cover even a quarter part of the debts, but should there be any excess, we ask the court to apportion this to the family of Gaius Aurelius in payment for the insult on his daughter.

"The Ostia collegia also move that a tenth part of the sale proceeds of the estate of Valerius Maximus should be offered to the family of Gaius Aurelius for the same reason. This agreement has been drawn up by the Ostia collegia in association with the household of Gaius Aurelius, who is content with the arrangement".

The praetor nodded.

"Very well. It is so ordered."

The praetor waved the lawyers away, eager to hear the next case quickly so he would not be late for his siesta. As Valerius was led away, he was stopped at the steps, and Lucius Agricola of the Ostia collegia stripped him of his tunic.

"This is mine now, rapist." He said, smiling. The tunic would not sell for more than a couple of sesterces, but the point was made to the man, standing broken before the jeering crowd in nothing but an undergarment. All he had – every single thing – was lost. He was to die tomorrow, a pauper.

Valerius looked out in despair at his son, and the sight that he saw made him want to struggle and break free and break necks. In front of his eyes, without waiting until he could even have been taken away to a cell, two men had approached Calvinus and the slave boy. One was leading the slave away, meek and obedient. The other had Calvinus in a vice like grip. Calvin was struggling and screaming, cursing as he had spotted Julia in the crowd.

"You did this! You and your father. You plotted the whole thing. You tried to kill him and when that failed you made him do it. You put a spell on him, you witch!

"Tell them you wanted it you whore! tell them… You liked it… Tell them you liked it and you made him do it."

Calvinus' eyes brimmed with tears as rage took him. He continued cursing and screaming at Julia, calling her a whore and a slut and insisting she had led Valerius on, and that she had used some magic to make him behave as he did. The poor boy, thought Valerius, it was all too late now.

Calvinus's voice suddenly carried across the forum, loud and cracking with fury:

"I swear before all the gods I will rape you Julia for what you did to my father. I will make you scream for mercy! I will rape you, you whore slut. I will…"

A burly man put his hand over Calvinus' mouth and roared:

"You will be quiet if you know what's good for you."

Calvinus resisted and made muffled cries, but no one would go to his aid. Unless anyone came forward to settle the debts, the boy would be sold with everything else as a slave.

And there was no one who would settle these debts. What had he done? Valerius cursed his stupidity. What had he done? Calvinus, his beloved Calvinus, faced a life of slavery. It was unbearable. The boy was better than that! The boy should be a military officer or a senator, not a gods forsaken slave boy.

Valerius struggled and shouted, swearing and cursing, but as he was hustled away, he saw Calvinus's cloak ripped from him and the tunic come away too. He heard the boy's desperate terrified shout, and then the crowds swallowed him up.

XIV
Execvtio
Execution

Valerius did not struggle as he was pulled from the cage he had been kept in while the various eulogies of the emperor and senate were read out and then the bitter condemnations of his vile act. He would never know what had possessed him that day to act the way he did, much as he had longed to do just that so many times before. Now all that was past and as he kneeled at the block, his future looked very short indeed. Valerius did not look towards the glaring accusing face of Gaius Aurelius or his family, but he could feel their eyes on his. They declined to add to the bitter condemnations, but Valerius' heart was almost torn in two when he heard Calvinus cry out in his defence.

Too late now, of course, although he knew the boy had tried his best to persuade Julia to withdraw her testimony. He had heartily approved of the use of his men to threaten the slaves and the girl. Calvinus would have made a fine Roman. If he had been allowed to follow his dream of an army commission, he might have been truly great. Instead the bastard Gaius Aurelius had maneuvered them and stolen Calvinus' freedom from him. Valerius had secretly dreamed of the boy rising to the rank of praefectus castrorum, the highest meritorious rank in a legion, and then marrying into a senatorial family. He had no doubts the boy was capable of it, but now he would never be allowed to serve even as a common legionary. The army was forever off limits to a slave. Even as a freed man, many years in the future if he was lucky, all he could ever become was an auxiliary – never a legionary. Calvinus' future lay now in servitude, which was more unbearable to Valerius than his own impending death.

Calvinus was not making things easier for himself. His shouts had turned angry. Why had they brought his son here to watch him die? No wonder the boy was angry and upset, and his bitterness had turned against Julia. He was condemning her, shouting how she had set up the whole affair at her father's bidding, and how she had entrapped Valerius, and how she liked. He was still screaming his vow to hunt her down and rape her for this when the obnoxious Lucius Agricola of the collegia had shut him up. Valerius saw the man enter the cage his son was being kept in and he heard the crack of a blow and winced. He heard his son fall to the floor with a whimper, and the collective gasp and scattered applause of a watching crowd as the recalcitrant boy had been kicked into silence.

Valerius felt a hot tear run down his cheek, and as the executioner lined up the blow that would take his head, he asked

"Any last requests"?

"Please, look after my son." He had begged. But what hope did he have for Calvinus now? The boy would be sold with the rest of his property. With luck he would simply face a life of servitude – perhaps somewhere where his education and breeding may allow him to avoid the worst rigors of that estate. Just as likely he would serve some man in other ways instead, and the thought made Valerius cringe. Worse was the reply from Gaius Aurelius, who had stepped close enough so that his words would not carry beyond the small group around him.

"Oh, do not worry. I intend to take very good care of him, myself and personally." The menace in the voice was more than obvious and Valerius lowered his head in despair.

The blow, when it came, was quick. A sudden stinging pain in his neck, and then the floor rising up to meet him. As his head landed hard on the floor and rolled, being fountained with blood from his severed neck, his last thought was "no one said how much it would hurt when your head hits the floor…"

Valerius blinked a couple of times, Calvinus' anguished screams the last thing he heard before he died.

XV
Vendidit
Sold

Calvinus shivered as he waited his turn on the rostrum at the slave market. The sale had already begun. The morning was cool, despite it being early August, and he had been stripped of even his underclothing after his taunts of Julia the other day. He was hungry and miserable, his whole life turned upside down by the execution of his father. He was still angry at the girl he saw as the cause of all his troubles and her traitorous murderous father. In a short while he would be sold as a slave, but that would not stop him seeking out his revenge on her. With luck he would go to a rich family and be a companion to some rich boy. From such a position he might still find a way to get back at the girl. He would make her suffer.

Nevertheless his shame was very great. He had seen many a slave market before, but never once dreamed it would be him standing naked on the block with his feet powdered white with the chalk dust of a new slave. A future of drudgery and without glory seemed very bleak indeed. Curse the girl. She had set his father up; he knew it. She had bewitched him and her gods damned father had put her up to it just so he could get his father's Ludus.

The Ludus itself was not up for sale today. That sale had already been settled between Gaius Aurelius and the Ostia Collegia, and the senator had become the new munerarius or owner of the school, which he planned to merge with his other holdings in the famous school at Capua. Calvinus had heard all this from the keeper of the slave market, who had gossiped at great length, not seeming to care how it stung Calvinus to hear of his father's school being transported to the southern provinces. The senator, it seemed, was also heading south for the summer – a wise precaution to leave the city when the risk of fever was at its highest.

The first of Calvinus' father's slaves went up for sale – Britannicus, sold as damaged owing to his lack of a tongue. He still attracted some bidding though from the whorehouse, although he was less desirable without a tongue. That was one less way for him to serve. In the end it was an agent for an estate in Misenum who bought him, probably to serve in a whorehouse there, although he sold for much less than his father had paid two years earlier.

Next for sale was the slave girl, Xantara. Calvinus watched her being sold with much regret. She had been one of his father's favourites. The boy well knew his father's taste for his girl slaves, but they had been his property, so there was nothing wrong with that. The whorehouse agents bid for her too, but in the event she went to some wealthy non citizen, who probably paid too much for her. Calvinus watched her go with regret.

Caudex and Livia were sold too – each going to new households who would value their skills.

And so it came to his sale, the son of the rapist they called him, taken to cover the huge debts of his disgraced father. He was led up to the block, naked and feeling very ashamed, dispossessed of everything he ever owned – including his own body. They even had taken his bulla, the amulet he, like all free children, had worn around his neck to ward off spirits. Slaves wore no bulla, and it was strange how he felt the loss of that more than any other piece of his clothing. A free child often went naked, but never without their bulla.

It had hurt when they had rifled through his possessions, keeping his gold pin – the one Britannicus had stolen. His sword, his clothes. Even the wooden toy horse his father had bought him when he was five. All of it already auctioned off. Now there was just him left.

Bidding started vigorously, and the boy's heart sank as he realised the whorehouses were bidding on him too. But also there was a senator with a young son, maybe eight years old, kicking his legs with glee. Calvinus hoped they would bid on him.

But then Gaius Aurelius spoke from behind him. He was stood behind Calvinus with his daughter so that the boy had not noticed he was present until that moment.

"700 Denarii," he said – a high price but not unheard of. There was a small murmur as he made his bid. Everyone knew that this was the father of Julia, the girl Calvinus' father had raped. No one wanted to be the one to deny him this slave, and already the price was a little high. There were no further bids after that, and Calvinus felt a sick feeling of dread settle in his stomach. He swore under his breath. The senator had refused to adopt him, so why did he want him as a slave? And a slave to this household?

All the same, as he felt himself flush with shame to realise Julia would become his domina, he also saw that here was an opportunity. He would have his revenge on them both – what better place to plan it from?

As Calvinus was led off, Gaius Aurelius spoke quietly to the slaver, pointing and gesturing. The slaver, for his part, gave a wry smile and nodded before going to speak to one of his men.

One of the slaver's men had picked up a knife and now followed Calvinus down from the podium. He took the boy by the shoulder and manhandled him into the chamber they used to wash down and prepare the slaves. Calvinus looked at the cramped cages he had been kept in, but he was not taken back to one of these. Instead the man indicated a bench shaped like a cross. Calvinus saw it, and the blood stains, and at once tried to bolt for freedom, but the man was too quick, grabbing him and man handling him onto the cross with help from the senator.

Calvinus started to tremble with terror, still struggling as his wrists and feet were clamped into place. What were they going to do? Oh gods there was a brazier. Please don't let them be about to brand him, he thought. Oh gods don't let them brand him. If a slave earned freedom, they could still become citizens – but not a branded slave. A branded freedman was always at risk of being re-enslaved.

But it was not branding the senator had asked for. As they fastened his feet apart, exposing his penis, which was pointing straight upwards for reasons all its own, Gaius Aurelius spat on the boy.

"Did you or did you not shout 'I swear before all the gods I will rape you Julia for what you did to my father'?" he asked, quoting the boy's words back at him. Calvinus looked up at the senator, blinking away tears and said nothing. He could not deny it, but he could not find brave or angry words right now – not with the look of menace in the senator's eyes, and the slaver holding a wicked looking knife.

The senator shook his head and with an evil smile, he spoke again, quietly.

"I will like to see you carry out your vow without a penis between your legs."

The slaver tutted at the boy's foolishness, and for a minute looked almost sympathetic, but then he grabbed the small penis, running his fingers along it. Calvinus gasped at the feeling. He had never been touched there like that by anyone but himself, and it made the flesh stiff, but as the man grabbed his small balls and tugged them, stretching them painfully inside their sac, he let out a squeal of pain.

"Please…" Calvinus looked at the senator, eyes wide with terror, his body shaking, "please… dominus… please don't do this. Please, I will be good. I promise. I take it back. I will never hurt her. Please… oh gods plea…"

The first cut turned his words into a high pitched scream as he felt the knife slice into his scrotum. It took only seconds of cutting and tugging and pulling, and then the slaver was ripping his balls free from his body, unmanning him forever.

And then there was the pain, like being kicked hard and constantly between the legs but so much worse. Sickening hot agony as he knew what it was they were cutting away. The slaver lifted his bloodied balls away from his body and the senator clapped as he screamed.

The next few minutes were the most agonising the boy had ever known, and the slaver was not done yet. Next he took hold of the boy's small penis, pulling it and stretching, making it shoot a sharp counterpoint of pain against the dull ache from his bleeding wound.

The knife blade bit in again and Calvinus screamed himself hoarse. He could not believe this was happening, but the pain insisted that it was indeed happening and surely death could not feel as bad as this.

Seconds later his penis was pulled free and shown briefly to Gaius Aurelius before it was tossed onto the brazier to burn.

Calvinus moaned, his whole body shaking involuntarily, his skin clammy with shock, as the slaver picked up a hot iron from the brazier. Not a branding iron after all, but a poker to cauterize the wound. Calvinus felt almost detached now, as if lifting out of his body and observing his own agonized screams from a great distance, his body twitching as the poker seared his flesh. He could smell burning flesh and the dull biting agony was enhanced by the burning pain as his flesh was seared.

"Calvinus means 'baldy' of course," the senator sneered. "And you will be bald forever now. I think I will let you keep that name, eunuch. That hair on your head can come off too."

Calvinus groaned, the words hardly registering. Unconsciousness, when it came a few seconds later, was a blessed relief.

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