Calvinvs

Lvdvs

Liber II: CAMPANIA

Enoch sat down on the floor with his plate of food and started eating. The gladiators ate together in a room set into the walls of the Ludus here in Campania. The day had been hot again, despite a thunderstorm that had failed to clear the air, but this room was cooler, and the boy sat with his back to the stone wall which provided some comfort from the incessant heat.

They had been in Capua for two weeks now, following the sale of the Ludus to the senator Gaius Aurelius. They had not seen their new owner yet, although rumour was that he would be here to inspect his new acquisitions tomorrow.

Enoch remembered the last time he had seen the senator – on the day of Julia's birthday games, a full month ago now. The senator had been talking with some alacrity with him when a terrified slave had come to fetch him away. Enoch had been happy enough to see the back of the man. He had seemed genuinely pleased with the gladiators, but Enoch knew that the man would have chatted just as happily if he had been lying dead on the sand that day. And anyway, the senator was a friend of the emperor, and that meant he was no friend of the Jews.

The rumour about what had happened that day had spread quickly enough too. Soon everyone knew in some detail about the rape of Julia Aurelia by their old owner, and the ensuing events had been predictable enough. So now he had been a slave a little more than a month before he had become the property of a new owner. The brand on his bum was still a little tender and already it was out of date – initialled forever with the mark of a rapist.

The senator had not ordered new brands – at least, not yet. Nevertheless the Capua gladiators all sported the senator's mark, and it was surely just a matter of time before he was given a new brand too.

Enoch shivered.

Had it only been two months since he was free? How he had hated the schola in the forum, with the daft old teachers who hit you with a stick if your handwriting was bad, or you mis-spelled a word, or calculated a sum wrong. He had though that he hated that place more than anywhere in the world, but now he would give anything to be back there, giggling with his friends over the graffiti of the teacher they had scratched into the wall.

Why had his father had to do something so stupid as to attack the emperor! What was he thinking? Was God any happier now his father was dead and he was damned to live as a slave and die in the arena for Roman sport?

When he had been free his father had made him pray regularly, greeting and ending the day with the prayers of his people. Now he would have prayed for torment for his father, although his father had always said that there was no afterlife – that the kingdom of God would be made on Earth when the Jews rose up and threw off the Roman shackles. Well that would not happen. His father had been a fool, and had condemned his son to this.

These dark thoughts were running through Enoch's mind when Nathan sat down next to him. The boys had been kept apart since the birthday games, and Nathan had been training with the other fishermen while Enoch was being taught to use blades. The Capua school was larger, with a complement of 30 gladiators now they had swelled the numbers, and the separate training had been considered essential to prevent friendships forming.

Well there was no danger of that with Nathan. The boy's chest had healed from the wound Enoch had given him, but it still sported a large pink scar. He would probably carry that for the rest of his life – which in any case may not be very long now. Enoch only regretted the blade had glanced off his ribs and he had not sunk it into the boy's lung.

All the same, Nathan owed him. There had been a challenge.

"Hey, you, when are you going to suck me, loser?" Enoch looked hard at Nathan. The other boy narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

"I beat you. You have to suck me."

Nathan carried on eating but Marcus heard and walked over, grinning.

"He is right, you know. You owe him."

"I owe him nothing." Nathan growled. "I will never suck your cock, to'ebah".

Enoch understood the Hebrew word that Nathan used – the word for abomination that the Torah used to describe the act of men lying with men. He had heard it often enough from the lips of his father, but Marcus could not know what it meant, yet the boy still grinned at the outburst, understanding the intent if not the word itself.

"You are a slave, Nathan. It is not your choice. You lost, you pay." Enoch watched Marcus speak the words, deciding not to mention that Calgacus had beaten him in the round before. Calgacus could extract his own penalties.

"I am not your slave." Nathan hissed.

Marcus did not bother answer. Instead he crossed the small space between them and grabbed Nathan, hauling him to his knees, and holding him there. Nathan was the youngest of the boys in the Ludus – he was fast but he was not as strong as Marcus, and although he struggled and cursed, there was not much he could do to escape. Marcus nodded to Enoch.

"Come on Enoch, show him who is the man here."

Enoch watched, half smiling. He looked around, and although there were other gladiators in the room they seemed almost uninterested in this spat. As they were kept apart, there would be no other opportunity to do this, and as Marcus said, the someone who forced another to suck him was considered more a man. It would do Nathan good to be forced to take the woman's part.

Enoch stood up, dropped his loincloth, crossed to where Nathan was, and pushed his fingers in the boy's mouth. The boy would no doubt try to bite, so he held the teeth with his fingers and pushed his stiffening penis in past the boy's lips.

Nathan's eyes went wide and he started to gasp as Enoch thrusted. He tried to bite, and Enoch cursed, his fingers hurting as he protected his penis, but he just fucked harder now.

But as he felt the tensions rising and he got close to orgasm, suddenly strong hands were pulling him away. His penis was wrenched free and Nathans' mouth clamped shut and the boy slumped forward as Enoch struggled.

"What in the name of Mars are you doing?" Patricius roared in his ear. "You think you have the right to rape him? You are just a slave, boy. You have no rights."

"He owed me!" Enoch protested, struggling against the Lanista's powerful grip.

"Didn't you get the message the last time to tried this crap, slave boy?" Patricius was shaking Enoch as he yelled, bringing curious looks from the other gladiators, more of whom had entered the room now, attracted by the noise. "Didn't you get the message when you were forced to carry Britannicus' tongue in your loincloth? Didn't the sight of it being cut from his mouth knock some sense into you, you stupid little fool?"

Enoch was still struggling, but his cheeks were burning with shame now. Of course the price Britannicus had paid weighed heavily on him. Yes he felt responsible, but Britannicus had been his master's whore. Nathan was a gladiator damnatus, just like him. No one cared if his mouth was pure or not. Except Patricius apparently.

"Your old master should have had you flogged for what you did, you know. Then maybe he would have knocked some sense into that bloody thick skull of yours. Fuck! You think you can just walk into a room and make some boy your bitch? You want to make sure he dies in his first bout, because he is nothing more than your slut boy! We are training gladiators here, not fucking whores!

"Gods below, you are going to ruin us all! Why do you think no one has fucked your cute bum yet, you stupid boy? Because if anyone dared do that in this place I would have their balls cut off and given to the son of your former master, to replace the ones he lost. No gladiators in this school are making whores of other gladiators, and if anyone dares try it I will personally flog them until their skin is hanging off in shreds."

Enoch turned pale now, understanding he had crossed a line, but he was not going to beg for mercy. He did stop struggling though. Marcus was moving away as if to hide his involvement, and Nathan was busy spitting, as though trying to get the taste of sweaty cock out of his mouth.

"Come with me." Patricius let Enoch go and turned to walk out of the room. Enoch reached for his loincloth, but Patricius shook his head as he looked to see if the boy was following. "You won't need that yet. You can come back for it later."

Enoch could feel his face burning, and only hoped the dim light hid his embarrassment as he walked past tutting gladiators. Some looked almost sympathetic, but most looked amused. He followed Patricius down a corridor and into the equipment store. He had been in here before to collect practice weapons, or strips of cloth or leather belts and bracers or shields. The room was a treasure trove of gladiatorial equipment, but as Patricius looked in a wooden trunk, he realised there was more than just combat equipment in here.

Patricius pulled out several items, all similar, but of different sizes. They appeared to be made from thin coils of metal – probably bronze. Patricius looked at Enoch, his gaze falling between his legs. He still had a stiffy, having not managed to orgasm in Nathan's mouth, but even at full length, his penis was still woefully short of man size.

Enoch realised that the item he was holding was a phallus shaped cage.

Oh gods!

Patricius crossed to the boy and sized up the cage with a grunt. Then he started to force it over the boy's stiffy, making Enoch yelp and squeal. Patricius grunted as he forced the resisting penis into its new prison, forcing it to bend, making Enoch scared he would break something. He yelled from the pain and tried to back away but Patricius grabbed him.

"Stay still boy or I will flog you, I swear!"

Enoch stood still despite the pain. The hand on his penis was making it more excited, and it wanted to be stiff, but the cage had other ideas and he watched in horror as it was forced into a flaccid position. Desperately Enoch willed himself to soften before Patricius snapped it in two! With a grunt Patricius gave one more hard push, and then he was fastening another wire under the boy's testicles, twisting the wire with some pliers, locking the cage in place.

When it was done, he indicated the boy to follow him again. Enoch walked uncomfortably with the cage gripping his cock, and pinching his balls. Gods it hurt, but worse was walking past gladiators who saw, pointed and laughed. Patricius led him right out into the street, still naked, cringing with the shame of being seen this way by passers by. Some women pretended not to notice, but some girls pointed and giggled.

Patricius took him to the blacksmith's, and spoke quietly.

The smith came over, inspected the cage, and then the join. He made the boy sit down, legs apart to get a better angle to work on, and then fetched a hot rivet, fastened it through the hole where the wires joined under his testicles and started to hammer it into place. Gods that hurt. The rivet did not touch him, but it heated up the whole cage, and so the ring burned his flesh and the hammering, although careful, still sent a pain through the boy's balls that reached into his stomach, making him feel like he was being repeatedly kicked in the balls with each hammer blow.

Enoch could not hold back the tears, nor the screams before it was done.

At last the blacksmith sat back, sucked air between his teeth and nodded to Patricius.

"Now then, boy, there is no getting out of that until the day we come back and have this smith remove the rivet. That should keep you in line. That cage will stay on until the day you make your first kill in the arena. Until that day, you can say good bye to your sex life.

"As a reward, when you make your first kill, we will remove it for a day, and I�you hear me? I, not you, will choose who you can fuck. You will be allowed one fuck and then we will put it back. When we put it back, we will fit you with the next size up, and that one will stay on until your next kill. Not win. Kill.

"For the rest of your miserable life, you get to fuck one person each time you kill someone and at no other time. Do I make myself clear?"

***

That night Enoch could hardly sleep. He often got a stiffy in the nights these days, and he had learned how to deal with that with a help from his hand. Now though, whenever he got stiff, the pain from the cage cut into him, making him almost cry with frustration. How long until he killed someone in the arena?

Gods he hoped it was Nathan.

"Up you get, boy. The master wants to see you."

Calvinus scowled and stood up stiffly. It had now been nearly two weeks since his castration, and the wound, which had been cauterised when it was made, had largely healed now, but he had taken a fever. The days after the castration were now a confused blur of pain, sickness and half memories of people trying to feed him or bleed him or chase the fever out with smoke that had just made him vomit more.

He understood that he had nearly died. The overseer of the slaves had all but given up hope, and he had confused memories of the man shaking his head and muttering about one boy in five dying from this operation.

But the fever had broken, and he had been taking food for a couple of days now. Yesterday he had been allowed up, and had been handed a new tunica – a simple and short slave's tunica, but tailored well to suit the slave of a senator. The overseer had explained that he would not get another for a year, so he must take good care of this one.

Calvinus followed the senator's overseer to the tablinarium – the senator's study. This was the first time he had been summoned by his master, and he felt some trepidation. He had to call this man dominus, had to act the dutiful slave, or he knew that the consequences could be dire. When he was the son of a Roman citizen the law had provided many protections. It would have been against the law for the senator to have him castrated, as many other things were against the law. He also could not have been executed except for the most serious of crimes. As soon as he had become the man's property, however, all that had changed. At once his body had become the senator's property to do with as he wished.

The boy rubbed his arm ruefully, feeling the still tender indentation of the brand he had been given too. His only consolation was that he had been already unconscious when they had applied it, and amidst all the other agonies, the one more pain in his arm had not been so great when he had awoken from his fever. All the same, it was a brand, and an obvious one. His arm was not covered by his new tunica, so everyone could immediately see he was not just a slave, he was a branded slave.

A branded slave, if he ever were given his freedom, would never be allowed to live in or near Rome. Any freed man with a brand who came to Rome could be recaptured and sold once again. Runaways and gladiator damnatii were branded, but most slaves were not unless they did something very wrong.

Worse though was the mark he had been given. When he had first really noticed it, after his fever broke, the overseer had explained it to him. This was not the senator's usual mark he had been given. Instead he senator had made a new mark just for Calvinus.

There was a sign for men, based on the sign used by the priests for the god Mars. Everyone knew it – the circle with the phallic arrow. There was a sign for women too based on the goddess Venus. Well this brand was the sign of Venus less a bar to indicate a eunuch – counting as a woman but less so.

Calvinus had looked at the brand in horror, knowing that its meaning would be widely known. Clothed or not, everyone would know what he had become.

Calvinus walked awkwardly to the tablinarium now, his crotch still very sore. Well the senator had certainly done what he liked with his new property. How long would the soreness stay he wondered. The first time he had had to pee, it had felt like someone had set fire to his insides. Peeing had also become a source of great shame. No longer could he stand like a boy, but worse than squatting like a girl, he had to use his fingers to direct the stream, or else he splashed it everywhere.

He did not get as far as the tablinarium. As he walked into the atrium, his new master met him.

"Calvinus, good. Let me get a look at you." the senator said, and Calvinus stopped still, his head slightly bowed as his master walked around him, probing his body, checking the girth of his wrists, running his finger over the still sensitive brand, lofting his tunic to inspect the healing castration scars, even looking in his mouth to check his teeth. Calvinus endured the inspection, although every touch of this man's hand made him want to scream in rage and shame.

When he was done, the senator stepped back as if inspecting the whole package now. His new eunuch slave boy.

"We are travelling south to Campania tomorrow. You will come with me." The senator informed him. "We will go first to the Ludus at Capua, and after that we will travel on to my villa at Misenum. You will remain in Misenum at my pleasure."

"Yes dominus." Calvinus choked on the words. It felt so unnatural calling this man dominus, but he knew he had to do so. He felt his cheeks colouring, and moreso as he heard footsteps nearby and then Julia's voice.

"Father, will you be visiting us in Stabiae?"

"Of course, my darling. I will spend most of the time with you and your mother and sisters. I have missed them all too long. I will just stay long enough in Misenum to settle some matters regarding the imperial navy and then I will join you there."

Calvinus was not looking at Julia. He had neither permission nor inclination to do so. Rather he wanted to not be noticed, but in that he had clearly failed.

"You won't bring Calvinus will you father?"

"I have already said he will remain in Misenum." His dominus said, maybe a little curtly. "Now, boy, come with me. There is one piece of business that I need to attend to." He pointed to the tablinarium but when Julia made to follow he held up his hand.

"Julia, this is not a piece of business suitable for you."

Julia sneered and moved closer to Calvinus.

"You know he is a virgin, father." As she said those words, Calvinus blushed again. The senator looked momentarily flustered, caught out by his daughter's directness. A twelve year old girl should be protected from such things, Calvinus knew – but then this was a twelve year old girl who was not herself a virgin, thanks to his father. Calvinus knew that keenly as the girl stepped closer to him again, so close she could feel her breath on his neck.

"Don't forget to tell my father you liked it when he is done, Calvinus." She said coldly, echoing his own words back to him. Calvinus shivered as he remembered what he had asked her to do. He had a fair idea of what was about to happen, and he dreaded it. For the first time he wondered how Julia had felt when his father's hard shaft had impaled her.

"Julia, I think you should take a walk in the gardens." The senator said firmly, but his daughter was equally resolute. Like father, like daughter, Calvinus thought.

"Father, I want to hear his screams. I want to watch him suffer what his father made me suffer."

The senator looked uncertain now. He was used to more discretion over such things around his family. What was going through his head? Surely his wife preferred not to see him fuck boys - that much was clear to anyone, although like any Roman woman, she would not mind when a slave girl sucked him in her presence to get him ready to have sex with her. Such things were common enough. Slaves were not masters of their own bodies, and there was no moral censure attached to the man who made use of them in such ways.

It was clear that he had never fucked anyone in front of his children though, by his flustered expression which was now turning thoughtful. Julia was growing up. She was twelve now, and the senator should be looking in earnest for a husband for her, although who would have her after the rape was not clear. The poor girl was damaged by that, but also perhaps having suffered in that way, she was ready to see some justice. The senator pursed his lips and then nodded.

"Very well Julia, then I shall ensure he screams loudly."

Calvinus was determined he would not scream. He would show them that even without his balls, he was more a man than any of them. They could take his balls and rape him of his virginity, but he would not give them the pleasure of seeing him scream or cry.

He thought that.

But he was wrong. Very wrong.

The senator spoke to his daughter about the journey to Stabiae as he bent Calvinus over a table, grabbed him by the leather collar he had been given, nearly choking the boy, and then guided his penis into the boy's exposed bum. Julia, for her part, kept her eyes on the new slave, curious and also clearly excited.

Calvinus had always been somewhat na�ve about sexual matters, but he knew what was happening, and his heart was thumping hard in his chest as he felt fear and a terrible shame as Julia watched this latest humiliation. In the Roman way of it, a man who was penetrated in this way was taking the woman's part and would be scorned. No such approbation was heaped on the man who took the male part.

The senator's words paused only for a second as he suddenly rammed his hips forward and his stiff penis forced its way through the boy's collapsing sphincter, stretching it unbearably, and tearing its way in. Calvinus, who had been determined not to scream, howled in agony and he saw a smile spread across Julia's face as his body was filled so deeply by the senator's cock that his stomach was distending now.

The pain was unbearable, but the senator pulled hard on his collar, choking his screams to a gasping near silence, so he could continue his conversation as he casually robbed his slave of his virginity. Calvinus gasped, clutching at his throat, desperate for breath, and Julia did not seem to concentrate on her father at all.

At last, with a gasp of pleasure, the senator unloaded inside his eunuch slave boy, pumping his seed inside the boy, his mark of ownership and virility. As he released the collar, Calvinus's head dropped back to the table and he gasped for air, moaning from the pain he felt. When the senator withdrew, he was pushed to the floor, to kneel in front of Julia.

"Calvinus, what do you have to tell my father?" Julia asked, standing and sneering over the boy, as he knelt in front of her, head bent in shame and humiliation. He did not answer at once and she kicked his head. "What do you have to tell my father?"

Calvinus felt tears of humiliation pour down his face as he forced the words out he knew he must say. Words he had asked Julia to say, to protect his father. He could not forgive her though, because he still knew in his heart that had been different. They had schemed and plotted against him and his father, and he was still sure that she had led him on. But now there was nothing to do but utter the words she demanded. In a voice hoarse from his recent choking, he croaked:

"I liked it!"

Calvinus walked through the gates of the Ludus in Capua with evident relief. The journey had taken four full days, most of which he had been expected to walk, although he had been allowed to ride in a baggage wagon for some of the way when he had stumbled and fallen to the floor on the second day. The senator had not ridden with them, but had gone on ahead by chariot to attend his business in Misenum and to put his daughter on a boat across the bay to Stabiae. He had, nevertheless, insisted they arrive in Capua by the end of the fourth day, where he would meet them, and that had led to a punishing schedule for the troop of slaves, baggage wagons and guards.

Calvinus had been confused by the decision of the senator to go to Misenum. The day before they had left - the day that the senator had robbed Calvinus of his virginity, and left him very sore on the walk, he had said that Calvinus was to go with him to Misenum. Apparently the plan had changed though, as come morning, as he had been playing with a house cat, a gift from some relative in Egypt to the senator, he had been summoned by the overseer of slaves and ordered to walk with the Capua baggage train. There was no explanation of the change of plan offered, and as a slave, he realised that he could not ask, and had to bite back the question.

Shortly afterwards he had pulled on his tunic and started on the longest walk he had ever undertaken, with just a backwards glance at the cat. Cats had it better than people, he thought, ruefully. He wished he had been born a cat.

In many ways it had been good to be away from the senator. The thought of travelling with him to Misenum had filled him with dread, so despite the discomfort and rigours of the walk, and the teasing of a few people laughing at his evident discomfort, he was, all in all, not unhappy with the change of plan.

Now, though, he was walking into the Ludus, ready to drop, and there was the senator waiting. Calvinus saw him and shivered. His head immediately dropped, so that his eyes did not meet his master's.

"Ah Calvinus, here at last. Good. Come with me please."

Calvinus was hot, sweaty, grimed with dust from the road and ready to drop from exhaustion, but an order was an order.

"Yes dominus." He mumbled and followed the senator past the atrium in the Ludus and through a colonnade out onto the sand, where he was at once affronted by the clash of wooden weapons, grunts of effort and pain, shouts and calls, and the sight of maybe as many as thirty gladiators, all hot and damp from the exertion of their evening training.

As the senator entered, someone cracked a whip and called a halt. Calvinus felt a stab of pain as he realised that the lanista with the whip was his father's old lanista, Patricius.

As he looked around he recognised other gladiators from his father's ludus. There was the new one he had bought with the senator's money - the one who had fought the lion. What was his name? Septimius? And there was Lykos, the Greek boy and some of the older teens that were at the end of their training. As he looked he saw the younger gladiators too - Marcus, Calgacus, Nathan and Enoch. They all looked as exhausted as he felt, but they also were looking at him, and he did not like the way they were doing so. Calvinus saw Marcus wink and grab his crotch, and then make a mock expression of pain. He looked away quickly, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with anyone again.

There was quiet now and at Patricius' instruction, the gladiators formed a semi circle around the senator, waiting expectantly. Although their eyes were on the senator, every one of the gladiators had looked at Calvinus, and he felt his face reddening. These had been his father's slaves - they should be his slaves now, and once again Calvinus felt the pain of all he had lost.

"Gladiators of Capua, Avete!" The senator greeted them formally, but with a triumphant edge to his voice that brought back a grunted roar from the gladiators themselves. "I come to you with news to stir your soul." He paused and the ludus was silent now.

"Just seven days hence you will each be given the chance to prove your honour and bravery in the arena."

There was an expectant murmur. This then was an announcement of a forthcoming games, and although games came around often enough, this was always a time of excitement as the gladiators discovered their pairings, and considered the winnings they might earn, as well as the risk involved. For the youngest gladiators though, it was more exciting yet, as they had not fought in a public games before, and it was a little surprising they would be doing so now.

As the murmur rose to a babble, the senator held up his hand and Patricius cracked his whip for silence.

"The festival of Vulcanalia falls one week from today, and we will be celebrating the Ludi Vulcanalia, not here in Capua, but in another town where our best fighters will be pitted against the best fighters of all southern Campania."

And with that the Senator called out the names of some gladiators that Calvinus did not know, but were clearly the veterans of the ludus - the older and more experienced gladiators of Capua who had always been in this school, not the younger crop that he had bought in from his father's estate.

There were some smiles from some of these men, no doubt glad to be singled out for the main event. Theirs would be the bout everyone would come to see, and that would see the greatest betting and also the largest purse for the winner, some of which would accrue to the gladiators themselves.

Next the senator turned to the younger gladiators. He pointed at Enoch and beckoned him over.

"You boy, come here."

Enoch walked to the Senator, his face always looked so sullen. He stood looking up at the senator, not cowed in the man's presence and the senator frowned but put his hand on the boys head, twisting it to encourage the boy to turn and face the others, with the senator stood behind. Gaius Aurelius took the boys upper arms in his hands and spoke, as though showing him off to those assembled.

"You all know this boy. Patricius has been telling me about his� appetites� and how they have been subdued. But I tell you I have seen this boy fight, and it is not just his lusts that arouse animal passion."

There was a titter of laughter and did Enoch redden slightly? The boy was blushing!

"When I first heard of this boy, he had just bitten Lykos into submission." Now Lykos was glowering. Calvinus remembered the day well enough, just a couple of months before and Lykos had vowed his revenge on that occasion. The senator went on, "I saw this boy fight at a private games we organised. His old master, the dishonoured Valerius Maximus, thought to name him the Jew killer and have him fight only Jews. On that day, he fought one Jew and won a brave victory."

Now Nathan to was glowering, and he had touched the scar on his chest instinctively with his fingers.

"I have decided to rename this boy. He will no longer be Enoch the Jew, the son of a would be assassin. This boy will be Lupus, the wild boy."

Enoch looked less than happy with that. A master could name his slave what he liked, but Calvinus understood now, that when you are stripped of all you own, and all you have in the whole world, your name is the one thing to hold on to. To have your name taken away, seemed like an extra theft. Nevertheless it was not Enoch's choice. From this moment on he would be Lupus.

"I have some big plans for Lupus - I have even made mention of a plan to the Emperor himself, should the boy survive that long. More of that on another day, but to ensure that he and the other boys here are given a chance to prove themselves, I have agreed a special show bout to open the Ludi Vulcanalia.

"Nathan, you and Lupus will fight together. The two of you will fight a bout against a single Murmillo. Two boys against one fully trained adult gladiator. Be warned that your opponent will not be one of our own, and he will not be happy to fight boys. He will feel humiliated and will seek to cut you down quickly. What is more, as you are now Lupus the wild boy, and for this bout, Nathan, you will be his equally wild friend, you will fight dressed as barbarians.

"Lupus, Patricius has told me of his bargain with you. If you and Nathan can defy the odds - and be very sure, the odds are that you will both lose badly - if you defy the odds and beat a fully trained murmillo, and thus seal your fame as the wild wolf boy, then I will have you released from that cage you wear for one day, and you will be given Calvinus here to do with as you please.

Calvinus looked up sharply and he felt his face reddening. No! He was to be given to be used by a gods damned slave? The son of a gods denying Jewish traitor? To do with as he pleased? Enoch had been his father's slave. To be used by one such as him was beyond ordinary humiliation.

There was laughter now, and Enoch was appraising Calvinus. Calvinus looked away, but wherever he looked, people were staring at him and laughing. At last he looked at the ground, blinking away tears of shame and fury.

Gods below, he hoped that Lupus would lose this bout. A fully trained murmillo would be a dangerous opponent indeed – lightly armoured, carrying a gladius and fast and strong, there was a real chance the boys would fail badly, and perhaps even pay with their lives. One quick thrust into the belly and Enoch would bleed out his life on the sand. Calvinus had not wished ill on Enoch, but he would rather that then the alternative of being given to the boy to use.

Why would the senator waste gladiators on such a fight though? surely even fighting together, two boys in loincloths would find it extremely hard to best an adult murmillo. Their best bet was to work together from different sides, so that the man could not defend against both attacks, but if one of them failed, the other would quickly follow.

But perhaps that was the reason. If the boys could win such a battle, it would be a famous victory. If they lost, it would be entertaining, and the senator would, at least, not have lost a fully trained and much more expensive gladiator.

The Senator was patting Calvinus' head, and he cringed.

"Before that, Calvinus, I have something else for you to see. You can join me in my chamber after you have cleaned yourself up."

More laughter, more leering stares. Calvinus turned redder and felt humiliation burn inside him.

"So then, gladiators of Capua, prepare yourselves and be ready. In a few days you journey south for the Ludi Vulcanalia.

"One week from today you perform in the arena at the city of Pompeii."

Calvinus felt a bit better for a wash. None of the comfort of the baths for him now, of course. He had been taken to a cistern filled with water that was tepid from the day's heat, but still felt cool to his sticky hot skin. There was no privacy here - this was where all the gladiators gathered to wash, and the boy had felt very exposed when he had taken off his tunic.

He had been naked often in the baths, around other men and boys and he had never had any concern at being seen naked, but now that he was a eunuch, all that had changed. Of course people took a good look, and he saw their glances and their mixed expressions. Some seemed to shudder and turn away, while others openly leered. The younger gladiators looked curiously, and did not even look away when Calvinus glared at them. He blushed, humiliated once again.

As he scraped dirt away with a wooden implement made for that purposed, one of the gladiators slapped him on his bum.

"How many times has the good senator been in there I wonder."

Calvinus cringed. He wanted to say "only once", but even that was so much worse than the untruthful answer of "never". Instead he kept his silence, concentrating on scraping himself clean, affecting not to notice the gladiator who was leering at him now.

He scraped the dirt away quickly, and rinsed off. When he was clean, he shook out his dusty tunic, banging away the worst of the dust with his hands, before pulling it back on.

"I don't know why you bother with that, boy. Gaius Aurelius will soon have you out of it."

Calvinus walked off, his ears burning as the gladiators laughed. He was still dog tired and hungry, but at least he felt cleaner.

A guard opened the gate that led from the Ludus into the adjoining villa, and Calvinus walked through to attend his dominus. He was to be found in the triclinium, the boy was told, and he followed directions to the dining room.

When he passed through the doorway into the triclinium, he stopped in surprise. The senator was not alone. Patricius was there too, standing in attendance as the senator reclined and ate his evening meal, but the senator was not alone on his couch. Sitting with him, curled into the man's embrace, was a boy he knew very well. A boy who should not be here, and who certainly had no right to recline with a senator of Rome.

Snuggling into the dominus like a favoured pet was a boy, his piercing blue eyes fixed accusingly on Calvinus.

It was Britannicus.

The senator looked up as Calvinus entered. He had seen the boy's momentary hesitation but overlooked it and beckoned him in.

"Calvinus, I was just speaking to Patricius here about your future." He began, not mentioning Britannicus at all, although his hand was running through the boy's hair. Why was he here? Calvinus longed to ask, but it was not a slave's place to ask questions. He almost asked in any case, but he decided he feared Patricius' whip too much, and kept quiet.

"As you know, my daughter is most reluctant to ever see you again. She has made it quite clear that she does not want to see you at or near Stabiae, and I have decided that I will spend more time at Stabiae with my family, at least until the Ludi Vulcanalia is done. Perhaps I will stay longer, as I miss my daughters and it will exasperate my wife, which is an added bonus."

The senator smiled at his own joke and Patricius obliged him with a small laugh.

"Calvinus, I did rather like you when you were free, but the gods have made you a slave now, and I fear not a slave I should keep too close to me. Your father's disgrace is your disgrace too, I am sad to say. I have reluctantly decided I will be leaving you here at the Ludus as a general slave, and occasionally a reward to gladiators who perform well. Patricius will see you are put to good use."

Calvinus' cheeks were reddening again. He was to be a gods damned whore? Wasn't that what Britannicus had been sold to be? Why couldn't Britannicus do that? A whore! A bloody whore of slaves. Tears of shame filled his eyes and one slipped down his cheek.

"What I was speaking to Patricius about, however, was the possibility of you being a gladiator one day. Patricius was not convinced by my idea. Tell him why not Patricius."

Patricius nodded and turned to Calvinus, looking the boy straight in the eye, his expression giving no hint of softness, just disdain.

"You are a eunuch now. You will not gain the strength of a man at any point in your life. Eunuchs make poor fighters, lacking aggression, drive and power. I do not think you would survive your first fight, and the crowds would surely bay for your blood when you inevitably failed."

The senator watched Calvinus as Patricius relayed this information. The boy felt the cut of the words. The appraisal was honest, probably true, but for Calvinus, all he had ever dreamed of was to be a soldier and one day maybe a general. All that had been robbed from him, but now to be told that any fight would inevitably end in failure for him felt so much worse.

"Although I agree with Patricius in the main, it is not unheard of for eunuchs and other effeminites to perform in the novelty tournaments at the games. I have considered whether we will allow you to train as a retarius tunicata. There is no hurry of course, but consider this Calvinus - if you serve Patricus well in this Ludus, and do all he asks, then maybe in a few months we will begin your training."

Calvinus did not know what to say. Was he supposed to say "thank you" as though this were some olive branch? The retarius tunicata was the lowest form of gladiator. A retarius, or fisherman, was already considered effeminite for his lack of armour or sword, and his reliance on speed and agility to survive, rather than direct combat. But the retarius tunicata was a novelty, allowed to wear a tunic rather than the more usual subligaculum. They were derided as women, and inevitably put to the sword if ever they lost. The arena would often erupt in laughter as a retarius tunicata dodged and weaved other gladiators and sometimes even goaded them and raised them to heights of anger. Funny though they might be, there was no glory in what they did. The crowd loved to see them lose, and hated it when they won. These gladiators also never had the prime fights, but instead were a source of amusement and derision.

Calvinus wanted to fight with a sword. He had trained for that, and he had watched the gladiators training with the gladius too. To fight without a blade - where was the honour in that.

The senator was looking at him though. He wanted a response. Calvinus went for the neutral one.

"Yes dominus."

"Good, then it is settled." The senator popped a grape into his mouth, chewed and swallowed it thoughtfully. "Now then, before I hand you over to Patricius, I think there is one last duty you can perform for me."

"Yes dominus." Calvinus swallowed. Britannicus was looking at him with those piercing blue eyes. Gods he wished his father had crucified the little thief.

The senator sat up, tipped Britannicus out of his lap, and swung his legs over the side of the couch, pulling his tunic off.

"I wish you to put my penis in your mouth, and to suck me until you feel your mouth filled with my seed, which you will swallow and then offer me thanks, and take your leave. If I feel any teeth, you will lose them. Do you understand me?"

"Yes dominus." Calvinus knelt in front of the senator, his face burning with shame now as Patricius and Britannicus looked on and he started to perform Irrumatus on his master. He gently licked the tip of the man's cock, feeling a moment of revulsion at what he was about to do, and who he must do it for, and then he let it slide into his mouth.

Sucking on the rapidly stiffening flesh, Calvinus felt the hot and hard penis fill his mouth, and ran his tongue over it, sucking and desperately trying to avoid any contact with his teeth. Before he knew it his mouth was full and his face was being fucked.

Just like the last time his master had fucked him, the senator now took up a conversation with someone else, ignoring the slave servicing his needs.

"Britannicus, my sweet boy! Such a pity your former master took your tongue. And yet, a boy who cannot talk has his advantages." As he said this, the senator drew Britannicus back into his arms, and gazed into his eyes. "I have special plans for you, my boy. The steward in Misenum was just a ruse to smuggle you down here without my wife or daughter knowing.

"Tomorrow you travel with me as far as Pompeii, and there I will leave you with the proprietor of a whore house, but do not worry, they are under strict instructions to keep you just for me. I will visit you regularly but other than that, your duties will be light."

With those words the Senator pressed his lips to Britannicus' lips, and the boy melted into his embrace, returning the kiss.

Calvinus heard this exchange and felt a stab of fury. Britannicus had been his slave. Yet another thing the senator had stolen from him, and it seemed he wanted Britannicus as more than a slave. He was going to keep him as his private whore boy – a pet, to be visited discretely. Stabiae was not far from Pompeii, but far enough that the barbarian boy would not be noticed by the senator's wife.

Calvinus did not know whether he felt jealousy or relief that Britannicus was to be the focus of the man's affections. The senator had once thought of adopting him, but now he was to be left here in Capua, and all his attention would be lavished on that slut, Britannicus.

Tears of fury and shame ran down Cavinus' face as he sucked on the senator's penis, feeling and hearing the man approaching his climax, as he all but choked on the man cock. He sucked harder, as Britannicus was kissed and cuddled and treated like a lover, and when the senator reached his climax moments later, and he tasted the man's semen filling his mouth, making him choke and gag, the taste disgusting him and making him queasy, he heard the senator groan:

"Oh Britannicus, I love you so!"

Calvinus swallowed the cum, and let the senator's cock slowly withdraw from his mouth. He wanted to spit and spew. His throat was sore, and he felt like he had half choked, but he knew what he had been ordered.

He slowly got to his feet and thanked the senator, bowing his head before taking his leave at the wave of the senator's hand. As he walked from the triclinium, he heard a small giggle from Britannicus and the gentle crooning of the senator's voice.

Calvinus could hardly see his way outside through his tears, but as soon as he was out in the open, he knelt down and vomited, dry heaving his near empty stomach, as tears washed his cheeks.

The last time Britannicus had seen Calvinus had been the day they were both sold in the market in Rome. It had been the second time Britannicus had been sold at market, but the experience had been little better than the first time. Standing in front of a crowd of strangers who were offering to pay money for the title and ownership of your body had been almost as humiliating the second time as it had been two years earlier, when Valerius Maximus had paid a sum equivalent to almost two years of a soldiers wages for a slave boy for his spoiled and bratty son.

This time the bratty son had been sold too, and as Britannicus had watched the miserable boy fretting and cursing, he had felt a pang of sympathy, but also a feeling that he would now, at least, get a taste of his own medicine. Britannicus had hoped that he would be sold to some younger boy who would bully him and make him play the same kind of humiliating games as Calvinus had forced on his own barbarian slave.

What would happen to Calvinus was interesting, but what was to happen to him was more terrifying. Would he be sold to a master who would beat him until his bones broke? would he be forced into some hard labour that would destroy his body? He had seen the work of the bath boy, an endless cycle of fetching fuel, stoking fires and cleaning vats in temperatures that would rival the fires of Hephaestus. Thinking of the options, Britannicus realised that Calvinus' casual cruelties and humiliations were really not as bad as many of the alternatives.

In all the time Britannicus had been a slave, there was only once when he had seen a master who he would actually prefer to be a slave to. Only once had he wished that some other person owned him than Calvinus, and that even taking into account of the brutal cruelty of his father who had cut out his tongue.

When the bidding was done though and he was told that he had been sold to an agent of a whorehouse in Misenum, Britannicus' heart sank. One of the slavers from the market had led him down to where the agent of his new master waited, smirking and making snide comments about how, with no tongue to give service, his bum would soon be well used.

"Entered more often than the temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, I shouldn't wonder." He had said, spanking Britannicus' bare behind. "Soon your hole will be larger than the Lupercal cave."

Britannicus had blushed. Had he been able he might have retorted with some dark curse. Instead he allowed himself to be meekly taken away. He did not see Calvinus being sold, and as he was loaded up on a cart bound for Misenum, he thought that he probably never would see him again. That seemed a pity, as he had been looking forward to seeing the boy humbled, walking behind his new master, his back glowing with his latest beating. He would just have to imagine it instead. By the gods, he hoped Calvinus would end up in a whorehouse too. That would teach him.

On the journey south to Misenum, Britannicus had learned that things were not all they seemed. The agent identified himself as Zosimus, and explained that although he was to be owned by the whorehouse, a single client had paid for his exclusive use – an expensive and unusual arrangement, compared to the alternative of just buying the boy outright. If a man wanted a bed boy there was no shame in purchasing one and taking him home.

"It seems to me that someone is looking for a bit of discretion." Zosimus had explained as the cart had ambled along the Appian Way, taking man and boy and a pile of goods towards Campania in the south. "If you want a boy to fuck, usually you just buy him outright, and usually you pick the boy that can service you with his mouth too."

Britannicus had looked away from his companion at this point, his cheeks colouring at the mention of his future duties, as well as the reminder of what Valerius Maximus had done to him. He may have been bought for just one client, but he had still been sold as a whore. Not for the first time, Britannicus wondered whether his mother still lived in the whorehouse in Britannia she had been sold into.

"Now if you go to all the trouble of paying for a boy who cannot speak or write, then that is usually because you actually want someone who cannot tell any secrets. I heard of one rich man who had the tongues taken from all his slaves, just so that the secrets of his household would never be retold."

Britannicus was still looking away but he was aware that Zosimus was looking at him as he spoke, and then he felt the light touch of a hand on his shoulder.

"You should not worry Britannicus. It seems you have a rich admirer who does not want people to know he admires you. Pray that he stays interested in you a long time, and your life will be an easier one."

When they had arrived at Misenum, Britannicus had been quartered with two other whore boys to start with but their resentment that he was not to be used by ordinary clients had eventually led him to getting a room of his own. He had wondered, and sometimes dared to hope, who his admirer may be. Of course, no one mentioned any names.

To keep him occupied, Britannicus had been set to work in the kitchens and the gardens, and the boy particularly liked being outside, or in the atrium of the whorehouse which was planted with trees and shrubs that he was told to keep watered and to look after. He had lessons of a kind too. Along with the other boys, he was taught how to make a man happy, and how to make a man believe you like what he is doing to you. Britannicus learned it all dutifully, but dreaded the moment he would be forced to use the knowledge.

And then maybe two weeks later, he had been summoned by Zosimus. Britannicus knew what this meant and his heart fluttered nervously in his chest as he walked towards one of the private chambers, where he would meet with whoever it was who had paid a lot of money to have sex with him.

What if it was someone fat and ugly? What of it was someone who liked to torture boys? What if it was a leper or someone so diseased they would not be allowed to have sex with the normal clients? All these thoughts and worse ran through the boy's head as he was ushered into the chamber. He felt the need to pee, he was so nervous. He felt almost sick with fear.

Who was it who would take his body and make it their own, to use as they saw fit. He could hardly bare to know, and yet to not know was worse. Britannicus felt a rush of conflicting emotions, and a strong urge to turn tail and run away.

And then…

Oh…

It was him after all!

He had hardly dared to dream it would be…

Britannicus smiled and the expression was immediately mirrored in the face of senator Gaius Aurelius – the man who had spoken to him so gently and listened to him instead of forcing himself upon the boy just a couple of months before. The man who had laughed and joked and treated him like a boy, and not just an object to be abused and humiliated. The man who he had secretly hoped would buy him in the slave auction, but who never entered a bid, leaving him feeling dejected and lost.

The man who had asked his true name, and even cared enough to ask what it meant in his own language.

"Hello Little Weaver."

Britannicus could not answer, so he started to lift his hand instead by way of salute, but the senator's arms were open in invitation, and the boy did not need the training he had been receiving to know what to do now. He threw himself into the senator's embrace and hugged him tight, tears pouring down his face as he felt relief, and the warmth of the man's touch. If he closed his eyes as he held the man tightly, he could just about imagine he was back in his father's embrace.

***

Britannicus lay snuggled into the senator in the bed in the private chamber. His bum was sore, but he did not mind. He had longed for the closeness of contact he now felt, as the senator gently spooned him, arms wrapped around him as he began to doze off to sleep. For two years, no one had held him like Gaius Aurelius held him now, and it awoke feelings of comfort and security that he had not even known were so thoroughly missing from his life until now.

Britannicus thought to himself that he did not like the sex so much, but the way the senator spoke to him, the feeling of closeness and intimacy and security, and the touch of a caring arm, holding his body, all made the pain more bearable. And anyway it was not totally true that he had not enjoyed it. His small penis had definitely stiffened when he was being fucked, and despite the pain, there had been something about the feel of the man's hard shaft in his bum that had made him excited, and had him touching himself down there.

He still felt the shame of what he had become, but he cared more about the intimacy than the shame. He very much liked being cuddled.

The senator slipped a finger into his mouth, as he held Britannicus with the other hand, and the boy felt the finger play with the stump of his tongue. The man felt around the stump, exploring the limits of the incision.

"Why did he do this to you, Little Weaver?" he asked. How could Britannicus answer? he felt frustrated by his inability to communicate. He could not speak, he could not write. He could draw pictures but even if he had something to draw with, how would he draw the answer to that question. The senator understood this though, and just kissed the top of the boy's head.

"Well I am sure that butcher had his reasons, and took those reasons to his grave."

And as Britannicus lay quietly in the arms of a senator of Rome, the man told him of all that had befallen Calvinus.

"I regret having to castrate him. He seemed like a spirited boy, and I am sure you were close to him too, but believe me, the alternative was worse. I think my wife would have conspired to have him crucified. I think it will be best for all concerned if Calvinus appears well punished for his father's crimes and his own stupidity. If only he had not made that stupid threat against my daughter."

The senator was quiet for a time, and Britannicus listened to his breathing, which seemed uneven now. And was that a stifled sob? Was this man actually crying for Calvinus?

Britannicus was a little horified by Calvinus' fate, but a part of him felt it was just. The boy's father had taken his tongue without so much as a backward glance. Why shouldn't Calvinus suffer too? That was the way the Romans were.

The moment of doubt seemed to pass though and the senator went on, his voice steady now, as he explained his plans for the Ludi Vulcanalia – a grand and exciting gladiatorial games to celebrate the god Vulcan, to be held in Pompeii.

"The proprietor of this whorehouse owns another establishment just outside Pompeii. I have already made arrangements for you to go there. Although I must spend time in Stabiae with my family, I will come to Pompeii often to arrange the games, and whenever I am there I will see you, Britannicus."

Britannicus listened to the Senator speaking about other things, many of which he did not understand, but he liked the gentle timbre of the voice. He liked the thought that this man who was holding him in his arms was going to make time to see him. He liked that the senator felt happy to tell him of the things he would be doing, the arrangements he must make and so much more. At some point Britannicus drifted off to sleep, still held naked in the man's arms.

***

Britannicus awoke the next morning in his own cell. He had no memory of being taken back there. He was roused quickly enough though when Zosimus came to find him and tell him he was to travel to Capua with the senator, and then on to Pompeii.

So it was that in Capua he had seen Calvinus again, and watched the boy, his former master, abase himself before the senator, performing irumatus on the man, while he was kissed and cuddled and fondled. As Calvinus had served the senator, the man had taken Britannicus' penis in his hand and over the next few minutes the boy had discovered that the good feeling he got from touching himself down there could erupt into something beyond imagination. The boy had gasped his surprise and ecstasy as the senator had brought him to his first ever full but dry orgasm. Tears had run down his cheeks as he felt the pulsing throbbing release in his groin. Now he knew what the senator felt in those moments.

Once again that night he was allowed to fall asleep in the senator's arms, this time without even being fucked first, as Calvinus had swallowed the man's seed instead.

The next morning, before they set out for Pompeii, Britannicus saw Calvinus once last time. He had been stripped of his tunic and was carrying two foul smelling buckets on a yolk – the shit buckets from the cells the gladiators slept in. Calvinus looked at Britannicus and his eyes narrowed, but he quickly looked away, ashamed, no doubt, by his new menial status as the Ludus general slave.

***

The senator was true to his word, visiting Pompeii daily, ostensibly to oversee arrangements for the Ludi Vulcanalia, but in fact he spent most of his time on the wooded slopes of the hills just beyond Pompeii. He seemed to enjoy speaking to Britannicus and Britannicus, for his part, listened attentively, and giggled at funny stories, or nodded or shook his head or otherwise mimed encouragement to things being said.

The senator seemed to value the ability to speak freely to someone, and told Britannicus far more than the boy could really take in. He spoke of his wife, cooly, and his daughters, warmly. He spoke of enemies in senate and allies and armies and the navy. He spoke of the admiral of the fleet in Misenum who spent so much time writing his journal of natural history. He spoke incessantly of the games and gladiators, and who was progressing well and who would probably fail. Britannicus had become his silent confidante and lover. There was so much that went over his head, but he felt privileged that this man would speak to him so.

It was August, and the height of summer, and in those warm days, it felt as if nothing evil could befall him ever again. Britannicus felt more like a favoured child of this senator than a whore slave now. Certainly he had sex with the senator on every day they met, and they lay for long periods naked together, but the senator did not treat him like a whore, and he did not feel like one.

For the first time in two years, Britannicus felt a measure of happiness.

The boy sat in the senator's lap and looked out from the slope they were on. There below them lay Pompeii, and the plains of Campania, and beyond that the shape of the mountain, Vesuvius.

Such a beautiful place, he thought. For the first time since he had been taken captive, Britannicus felt he was in a place he would be happy to stay, rather than returning home. What could possibly blight a place and time as perfect as this.

Enoch awoke with a cry of pain and grabbed his crotch, his fingers finding the metal cage that encased his penis, which had been attempting to stiffen in a pre-adolescent nocturnal erection. Every damned night for nearly two weeks had been the same, and the boy silently cursed Patricius for putting this on him, and doubly cursed Nathan for his role in it.

The boy lifted his hand away from his imprisoned flesh and willed himself to soften. He had learned a hard lesson in self control, and made sure he did not touch himself down there now, which only made things worse.

It was not just at nights either. Several times a day he felt his body reacting to things he was seeing, or things people were saying or just thoughts he was having, and his penis would push painfully against the cage that kept it bent and soft, sometimes all but reducing him to tears of frustration and pain.

It was near dawn, and Enoch pushed himself up from the pile of straw on the stone floor of the room he slept in along with many of the other Capua gladiators. They had travelled south to Pompeii several days earlier, and the ludus here was now cramped with too many gladiators in too small a space. As they had eaten an evening meal last night, someone had remarked that the accommodation would be freed up by the end of the following day, to much wry laughter. Enoch had not joined in the laughter though, and neither had he joined in conversation. The fact was that he was frightened, although there was no way he was going to admit that in front of anyone here. Last night was the evening before Vulcanalia. Today was the day of the festival itself. Today he was to fight a fully trained murmillo with just Nathan to watch his back, and if he did not put up a good fight, this might be the last dawn he would see.

The boy stood up and quietly picked his way past sleeping bodies, out onto the arena floor. He looked around at the stands that would later be filled with the people of Pompeii. Would they be screaming for his blood to be spilled on the sand?

Enoch shivered.

"Couldn't sleep?" A small voice asked.

Spinning around towards the source of the sound, Enoch saw Nathan stood in the pre-dawn shadows of the entrance onto the sand. He scowled and did not answer the question.

"Me neither." Nathan confessed.

Ever since this pairing from hell had been announced by Gaius Aurelius, Patricius had been pairing the boys together against adult gladiators in the school, trying to train them to fight together. "Trying to save your miserable lives." He had told them angrily as again and again they had failed. The week had been filled with cries of "together! do it together!" or "if you can't last more than thirty seconds the crowd will have you killed for sure!" or "are you gladiators or women? Even Calvinus could fight better than you."

Patricius had not spared his rod either, beating them to try and make them fight together, but the problem was Nathan was just useless. Whenever he told Nathan what to do, the stupid boy would just do the opposite. Instead of launching in to attack, he would hang back. It seemed that Nathan did not care if he died, as long as he did not die first. There was no way he could win this fight if he had to rely on Nathan to help him.

Enoch looked at the boy now. So much better if they had been paired against each other. He would have had no trouble beating Nathan, he was sure. But two boys against a murmillo, and with no armour beyond a shield allowed – this was going to be a slaughter. Why not just dress them in lamb skins and feed them to the lions like they used to do to the followers of that cult a few years ago? That would probably be quicker and less painful than this.

Enoch spat on the sand and then turned to the other boy.

"So you are scared?" He asked.

"Aren't you?"

Enoch made an exasperated sound through his teeth. There was no way he was going to open his soul to Nathan, even if the boy was the last person alive, and confession was all that stood between him and the wrath of God.

"Your problem is you think you know better than him."

Both boys spun around and peered into the dawn shadows at the new voice they heard. They had both thought they were alone, but one other boy was awake, already starting his daily chores. Fucking Calvinus.

"What do you know, eunuch?" Enoch allowed the scorn he felt for the boy to seep into his tone of voice.

"I know that if you keep on fighting like you did yesterday, I don't have to worry about you fucking me tomorrow night."

"Fuck off, whore boy." Enoch spat out the words and Calvinus shrugged. Nathan was looking towards where Calvinus stood though, the eunuch framed by the glow of lantern light, still naked, as he had been kept since the day he had been made the ludus slave. Enoch looked at him too, shivering at the sight of his butchered crotch. Calvinus had always been an obnoxious brat, but having your genitalia cut off seemed like a worse fate than he deserved all the same. Better a quick death than to be reduced to something less than a woman like he was now.

All the same the sight of Calvinus like that was making him hard again, despite his disgust, and Enoch winced as he willed himself to softness once more. If he won today, he would be allowed to fuck the eunuch – that was the bargain.

Calvinus glared back at the gladiator boys before turning his back on them and picking up a bucket and returning to his chores. Good riddance. Calvinus always had thought he knew more than he did. Back in Rome, before Valerius Maximus had disgraced himself, Calvinus would come to the Ludus and offer tips to Patricius or try to discuss the gladiators as though he knoew what he was talking about. Patricius had been Valerius Maximus' slave back then so had always been tolerant and polite, but anyone could see he was exasperated by the boy. Now Patricius demonstrated exactly what he thought of Calvinus by working the boy from before dawn until he dropped at dusk, doing all the most disgusting chores that no one else wanted to do.

Enoch spat on the ground again and turned to go back into the room where the gladiators slept, but now Patricius was standing there, his body hardly visible in the dark, making the boy start when he noticed him.

"Calvinus is right, Lupus." Patricius said, using Enoch's new slave name deliberately. The boy scowled back as Nathan murmured something that sounded like assent. "You fight like a demon, and in a fair fight, no one would match you. This was never a fair fight though, and in this fight, Nathan's instincts are often good. Sometimes you do not win a fight by throwing yourself at your opponent and biting them.

"Interesting that Calvinus saw it. Very interesting. He is perhaps not quite such an idiot as I thought he was."

Enoch let out a frustrated growl, but in a flash he was clutching his crotch and rolling on the floor. Patricius had kicked him in the balls hard, and Enoch groaned in pain as Nathan let out a snort of laughter. Fuck him!

"You stupid arrogant boy. You were not ready for this, but Gaius Aurelius wants his spectacle – the fighting wolf boys. Now I have to find a way to fucking well keep you alive, because even though I warned against letting you fight, it will be me who the good senator blames when they carry your corpses off the sand later.

"Now listen, and listen good. I have struck a bargain last night with the Pompeii lanista. We are going to let you have some help from a gladiator who at least knows what he is doing. Your friend Lykos will be joining your wolf boys. The three of you will fight – but in return, I have agreed that you will have only one shield between you. Nathan is getting the shield.

"With the three of you fighting, you have a much better chance of winning. However I had to give away another concession to the spectacle, so you had better fight as a team, or Gaius Aurelius is gouing to have my balls to join Calvinus' in his collection."

Enoch was still clutching himself, his stomach and groin aching from the kick, and the thought of having to fight with Lyokos – who had vowed revenge on him once before – was no comfort, but he did not interrupt. Instead it was Nathan who asked:

"What is the concession, sir?"

Patricius paused before answering, and then waved towards the arena.

"There will be three stakes set out in this arena. If you end up on one of the stakes, don't bother asking for mercy."

The first thing that struck Enoch was the noise. Never before had he fought in an arena filled with so many people, all talking and laughing, eating food they brought with them or bought from the people moving amongst them, selling sweetmeats and taking bets. As the gladiators stepped from behind the canvas that hid the way out onto the sand, the chatting turned into an expectant roar.

The boy was transfixed by the sight, terrified for a moment, knowing the moment of truth had come, knowing these people had come to watch the spectacle of a good fight, or failing that, a gory death.

Their fight was on first. This was not the main event but a warm up act – some light entertainment before the grown men would fight one on one, but it was more than a frivolity. The senator, Gaius Aurelius himself, stood with arms raised for silence and as the arena grew quickly silent, he began to speak.

"Citizens of Rome, friends, today we celebrate the feast of Vulcanalia." He paused as a roar of appreciation accompanied the word, and as it ebbed he continued. "The sacrifice in fire was made earlier to the god. Now we sacrifice in blood too."

The senator did not mention the moment at the sacrifice when the presiding magistrate had mishandled and dropped the fish. That had been a terrible omen and soon everyone had known of it, even the gladiators, who had not been present of course. Enoch did not care for the omens of the Romans in any case. He had been taught that there was only one God, and he supposed that was what he believed. The offering to Vulcan was just idolatry, and as for the one God, well he had not been much help to the Jews these last years, and especially not to Enoch. So the magistrate dropped the offering – that did not seem like such a big thing. What would Vulcan do in retribution? strike everyone down in flames from his forge? That did not seem very likely.

The people, on the other hand, seemed to be of the opinion that a poor sacrifice earlier demanded a better one now, and there were the ritual shouts calling for blood on the sand. Enoch shivered, and prayed voluntarily for the first time since he had been enslaved. "Please don't let it be mine."

Gaius Aurelius continued his speech.

"Our first bout introduces, for the first time in public competition someone who, just like Romulus and Remus, was raised from birth by wild wolves, who fights like one himself. I give you the savage, remarkable, barbarian; Lupus the wolf boy and his pack."

Enoch's terror turned to exhilaration as the crowd erupted into cheers. People were calling "Lupus" over and over, and roaring their approval as the boys walked forward onto the sand, arms in the air to acknowledge the crowd, dressed only in the barbarian loincloths they had been given. He wondered idly how many people really believed he had been raised by wolves, but just now he did not care. In this moment, Enoch felt such a wave of adrenaline rush through him that he was ready to tear the heart out of anyone who crossed him. In this moment he himself could believe he was the wolf boy, spiritual descendent of Romulus who killed his weaker brother.

"And facing this fearsome pack – you know him, Pompeii, and you love him. I give you Simo, unbeaten in two years. Today he faces not just the wolf boy but two of his pack at the very same time. Will the gladiator snuff out the barbarian animals on this, their first fight? Will the pack descend on him and butcher him? This is no ordinary fight.

"You will see three stakes. If Simo adorns the stakes with the animal boy bodies, he wins. If they overpower him before he does so, then Simo will suffer his first defeat in public competition at the hands of this pack of wild boys."

The noise form the crowd swelled to a crescendo and the calls for Lupus now had mostly been replaced by a chant for Simo.

Simo! Simo! they roared, and Enoch knew then what they wanted. He looked at the three stakes, sharpened spear points on each. Would he be sitting astride one of these, with the shaft pushing through his stomach and ripping away his internal organs soon? His mouth was dry as he imagined the agony of such a death, skewered through the bum. He looked at Nathan and Lykos now, neither of whom appeared very happy, and both of whom were also looking at the stakes.

The time had come for the ritual salute, and the boys and Simo turned to the senator and raised their right hands in the way of all gladiators.

"We who are about to die salute you." They spoke the words together, and Enoch felt sick dread settling in his stomach now. We who are about to die. Would there be three fewer boys in the ludus tonight? Was this the moment he would face the wrath of God for his actions with Britannicus? Just for once he could think of Britannicus without his penis attempting to stiffen inside the cock cage he still wore – he was too afraid for that.

"I am going to save your neck, and when I am done, I am gonna fuck Calvinus and then I am going to fuck you too." Lykos informed Enoch quietly, stepping close so that the boy could hear the venom dripping from his words. "Patricius already agreed it. When I kill this Simo for you, I will be the one who saved your neck, and you will be totally fucked."

Calvinus looked sidelong at the older boy. He had been kept apart from Lykos since the day he had unexpectedly beaten him. Lykos had been in the Ludus much longer and was fully trained even though he did not yet have all his man growth. He was still lanky, and no match for a full grown gladiator, but Patricius knew what he was doing, adding him to the "pack". With three boys, one of them fully trained, this Simo would be hard pressed to stave them all off at once. With a coordinated attack, all three boys could survive this, perhaps.

There was no love lost between the boys though. Lykos had vowed revenge on Enoch, and for his part, Enoch wished he had bitten the boy harder. Had Patricius really made such an agreement with Lykos? Probably so. They may call this his pack, but all would know that it was Lykos who had won the bout, which would mean Lykos gained the reward. He doubted Patricius really would allow Lykos to fuck him though – but then again Lykos would probably be able to do so whether it was allowed or not. Either way, he was not going to get the cock cage off with Lykos stealing the glory. Enoch narrowed his eyes and swore.

Lykos pointed to Enoch's bum and mimed thrusting actions, and Enoch heard a small ripple of laughter from the stands. Someone had seen him and they were amused. They should not be amused. He was the wolf boy – they were meant to be afraid of him, not laughing at him. Enoch swore again.

The senator dropped his hand to signal the start of the bout and the murmillo came at the boys at frightening speed. Lykos made a break for the man's right flank but Enoch extended a leg, causing the boy to stumble, before launching himself into the same space. That was the perfect place for an attack, and he was taking it.

Lykos fell heavily and rolled, and a roar from the crowd was tinged with more laughter. Take that, Enoch thought. That would teach him to make the crowd laugh at him.

Simo saw the boy fall, and Enoch moving to the side, and with the experience of a gladiator who knows when to take his opportunities he feinted at Nathan, dodging away from Enoch's attack. Nathan raised his shield and parried a blow from the murmillo, but the act of shielding himself meant that he did not see the murmillo's own shield coming. It struck him squarely on his unprotected head, the blow ringing out loud enough that the crowd gasped, the boy unconscious before he even began to topple backwards. However the force of the blow caused the murmillo's shield strap to pop, and it too went tumbling across the sand.

The exchange took a second or two and as Nathan fell to the sand, Simo turned with terrifying speed, his foot raised to where Enoch had been rushing in to attack his unprotected flank. The foot connected with Enoch's stomach and the boy went hurtling backwards with a grunt of pain as all the air was forced from his lungs.

Already Lykos had recovered from his fall, rolled to his feet and was lunging at the murmillo. As Enoch fell back, he saw the older boy, his face locked in a snarl of anger, as he lunged with his gladius outstretched. The blade cut the gladiator's leg, but already Simo was rebalancing, turning, thrusting, parrying the blade, and then with another kick he took Lykos off his feet.

Enoch's head banged the sand as he landed – the parry that muted Lykos' attack achieved in the split second it had taken him to fall to the ground, and then the world went momentarily black.

He could not breathe. His chest moved but no air would come. Gasping, Enoch fought for breath, and slowly it seemed to come. The panic of suffocation passed, but in the seconds he had been incapacitated, Simo had not been slow. Enoch felt a sharp pain in his hand as the man's foot kicked his gladius hard across the sand, and then, just as he was trying to struggle to his feet, another sickening kick to the head, and again the world went black and fuzzy.

All Enoch could hear was the roar of an angry crowd, shouting "easy! easy!" and also "kill them! kill them!" He felt like he was drowning. He blinked and the world looked like a blur of light and dark that he was watching from some great distance. There was a terrible sense of unreality. He tried to move but his limbs would not co-operate.

And then he heard a cry of fear.

"I submit. Mercy…please…. No! NO!" Lykos' voice, and then it became an agonised shriek and the roar from the crowd swelled to its loudest yet.

A shadow fell across Enoch's face. He blinked and through the sick pain in his head he could see Simo reaching down to pick up his prone body. Enoch instinctively rolled to the side and the gladiator snarled and lunged with his gladius.

There was no escaping the blade, prone as he was, and he had no weapon to parry with, so he did the only thing left to him. He lashed out with his hand, parrying the blade with the flat of his palm, deflecting it away from its trajectory into his stomach. His left hand blossomed blood where the edge of the blade bit into his flesh and he felt it spatter away, but in the second this move bought him, he rolled again.

The crowd was roaring again, but all Enoch cared about was escaping Simo and his deadly blade. For his part, Simo was shouting his frustration with a selection of choice Greek swear words, as he turned and kicked at the boy. His foot connected with Enoch's ribs and he felt a crack and a terrible pain in his chest.

All was lost.

Enoch tried to wriggle away, the movement agony, but there was not time to regain his feet. The gladiator raised his weapon, thought better of it and instead aimed another kick at his head. Framed behind him, Enoch saw the struggling, squealing form of Lykos, impaled on a stake, kicking his life away as the wooden shaft ripped through his stomach, his fingers raised uselessly in the gladiator sign of submission, begging for mercy even as his punctured stomach leaked blood into his mouth.

In a few seconds he would join the hapless older boy – and all because he had been stupid enough to trip him up and not fight together.

Stupid! Stupid, stupid! Why had he been so foolish?

Enoch saw all this in the instant the gladiator lined up his kick to the head. The boy closed his eyes, expecting the blow that would knock him unconcious. He could at least hope he stayed unconscious when the gladiator thrust the shaft of the stake through his bum and left him hanging in there before the baying crowd.

It was all over.

Done.

Finished.

And then the ground began to shake.

The earth in Campania seemed to form a thin layer between here and whatever world lay below, and such shakes were not uncommon, but this was a big one. A very big one that knocked Simo off balance. Poised for the kick that might even have broken Enoch's neck, he stumbled and fell.

There was screaming from the crowd, and dust and mortar falling from the walls of the arena, a great crash as something toppled over just beyond the stands, but the shaking only lasted seconds – maybe thirty heartbeats, but no more, and then it had stopped again.

Now Enoch had his chance to regain his feet. He was up before the gladiator, but weaponless. He saw his gladius some way off, and ran for it, picking it up and turning to face the other gladiator.

The crowd had gone quieter now, the shaking having distracted most of them from the bout on the sand, but that did not mean they could stop fighting. Simo was on his feet and heading for Enoch. The boy feinted and stepped away, again and again. Simo lunged, his movements incredibly fast and fluid. When the gladii met, Enoch felt the strength of the man behind the blade, as it was all he could do to hold on to his weapon, the force of each blow ringing up his arm.

He had escaped the blow to his head, but it was only a matter of time. Slowly but surely he was being backed into a corner of the arena, and once there he would be no match for this fully grown and fully trained murmillo.

The bout was lasting longer now. Seconds were becoming minutes, but in those minutes Enoch's arm was tiring, his chest aching terribly, and he was running out of space to fall back into.

If only the earth would shake again, he thought. Maybe then he could run right out of the arena – but they would never allow him to leave. He knew that. Instead he would be cut down at the entrance and die a coward's death, with a gladius to the back.

Parry-thrust. Parry-thrust. His drill took over, but he was almost at the wall now. Parry-thrust….

There was a flash of movement and his heart beat fast. The murmillo, with his helmet on, had not seen it – could not have seen it. Had the crowd been more attentive, their roar might have alerted him, but they were still largely distracted – the focussed roar now being a general babble as many of them ignored the boy fighting for his life against the grown man.

Parry-thrust. Pretend he had not seen it. Concentrate only on the murmillo.

Parry-thrust, and here was the wall.

Simo parried his last thrust and seemed to savour his moment.

"Now you die, Lupulus, little wolf." He growled, but before he could turn the blade to open the boy's guts, Nathan fell on him, his own gladius opening the man's side.

With a roar of anger, Simo stepped back, turning to face both opponents, but Enoch pressed the advantage, moving forwards with the man, ramming his blade into his gut, pulling it free, as Nathan used his shield to parry the man's gladius.

There was a terrible stench, and as the boys stepped back, Simo grabbed his gut. Something was hanging out of it and the gladiator tried to push it back in. Slowly he sank to his knees, bowing his head.

The crowd was roaring again. Many had missed the killing blow, but now their attention was drawn to it again as the two unarmoured boys who had seemed to be about to go down to an ignominous and ludicrous defeat just minutes earlier had somehow defeated Simo the undefeated.

Nathan turned to Enoch with a grin and then raised his arm. Enoch watched and then, slowly did the same, and the crowd roared again.

"Lupus! Lupus! Lupus!"

Enoch and Nathan walked through the archway that led from the arena into the area where gladiators were waiting to go out on to the sand. The boys were beaming with pleasure and relief. They had won. They had beaten the odds and taken down the murmillo, Simo. They had won their first true bout.

Enoch saw Calvinus waiting with a bucket of water, and crossed the room to take ladle of it for himself. His ribs ached – he was sure he had cracked one – and his hand was cut and sore, but right now he did not care. He smiled wickedly at Calvinus.

"See you later, eunuch." He said with a smile and a wink that became a wince as his penis attempted to stiffen in its cage.

He turned away from Calvinus, even smiling at Nathan. Nathan was looking back at him with a strange expression. He had heard Enoch's words to Calvinus, and Enoch wondered if he was going to call him an abomination again. But no, Nathan just shrugged and thumped Enoch on the arm. Enoch responded with a kick, but a friendly one. Nathan had saved his life out there, no doubt about it. His stealth had been crucial, judging his approach behind Simo perfectly, out of view and quiet until the moment he had attacked.

There was no doubt that Nathan was a sneaky bastard, but the two of them had faced death together and overcome it. Maybe he would not kill the boy after all!

Patricius had been seeing the next pairing out onto the sand, but now, as the senator was introducing the next bout, he took a moment to enter the room and crossed to the boys.

"Did you see …" Nathan asked excitedly, but his words died on his lips. Patricius' face was dark with anger, his white teeth bared almost to a snarl.

Before anyone could say anything else he had lashed out with his hand and punched Enoch hard in the stomach. Enoch doubled over as the room went silent, which made the sound of his kick to the boy's groin seem sickeningly loud.

Enoch doubled over and fell to the floor, clutching his balls, and now Patricius kicked the boy savagely in the back, making him howl as his tortured ribs took the force of the man's foot.

"You stupid fucking little self centred bastard!" Patricius hissed. Not so loudly that the shouting would carry out into the arena, but instead a voice that was quietly dripping with scorn. "I gave you Lykos to save your sorry little arse from certain death out there, and how do you fucking repay him? You tripped him up, messed up your best chance at a coordinated attack, nearly had Nathan's head taken off in the first blow, and allowed yourself to be incapacitated.

"The result? We lose a fucking good fighter with two years of training. Dead! Because of you Lupus. All your fucking fault."

The other gladiators were all looking at him now. How many of them had seen the trip? Maybe not many, but nothing escaped Patricius, and now they all knew.

"I wish it had been you he impaled. Your screw up but the wrong boy died. You got fucking lucky because Vulcan fucking favoured you with a gods damned earthquake! You are lucky, but you should be dead with a spike up your arse.

"The senator says you get Calvinus as your reward. Its not for me to gainsay your owner, but make sure you enjoy him tonight, Lupus because in the morning that cage is going right back on your useless cock, and then… then you are going to taste the full force of my whip, and when you are done, I doubt you will feel like fucking anyone in a good long while."

And with that threat hanging in the air, Patricius turned and walked out onto the sand again to watch the next bout, leaving Enoch groaning on the floor, and the other gladiators muttering and talking in hushed whispers.

***

Knowing he faced a whipping, Enoch's night with Calvinus was not all he had dreamed. Being young, horny and inexperienced, it was also over too quickly. In any case Calvinus would not have been his first choice, but he was a slave, he did not get the choice, and rather than waste the one opportunity he was given, he gladly fucked the son of the man who had bought him for a gladiator and branded him. He might be facing a whipping tomorrow, but he had not been allowed an erection for two weeks, and as soon as the cage came off, his cock had sprung to attention and stayed that way.

Enoch made the boy suck him at first, but this was his one night released from the cage, and he was not going to waste it by orgasming in the boy's mouth. He had the eunuch turn over and then pushed his way into the boy's bum.

He might not have known to do this a few months ago, but the Ludus was a cramped space filled with horny men, and he had seen one of the adult gladiators doing just this to the cook. He had watched, trying not to get stiff in his cage as he imagined doing the same to the boy he really liked, the one he dreamed in the dreams that woke him with the pain of a stiffening penis in its prison.

That boy was not here, so Enoch fucked Calvinus instead, ramming himself into the boy's resisting bum as Calvinus yelled with pain. As he achieved his climax, he touched the scarred flesh of the brand on his own bum and yelled to the underworld of the Romans.

"Take that Valerius Maximus. I raped your son."

***

Enoch did not sleep well that night, and he was awoken at dawn by Calvinus,, who had been sent to fetch him. The boy followed the eunuch into the chamber that had been used the day before in the Pompeii ludus as a hospital where injured gladiators had wounds cauterised, bound up and treated. Today, with the games over and the wounded taken away to other cells where they recuperated, the room could be turned to its other use – as a place for punishment.

Patricius fastened the boy's hands into manacles attached to a chain and then lifted the boy and slung the chain over a wooden support fastened onto the central pillar that held up the chamber's roof. Enoch found himself having to stretch as tall as he could, almost on tip toe to prevent himself from dangling from the support. The position would not have been comfortable even without a cracked rib, but for the injured boy it was agonising.

Calvinus fetched the other gladiator boys too. Nathan, Calgacus and Marcus were all brought in to watch the proceedings, and Enoch heard them enter quietly, feeling his stomach tightening with fear. He had felt the touch of the rod and even the whip in training, and he knew how much it hurt, but those had always been just a few strokes at a time to encourage him to fight better. Today he would receive a merciless flogging, and he had no idea how much this was going to hurt. The waiting was by far the worst part – imagining the pain that was coming.

"You boys will know by now that Lupus here disgraced a sacred trust of all gladiators, an act that led to the death of one of our own. You all would be in your rights to fear fighting alongside this boy ever again.

"Nevertheless you may well be called to fight with him one day, although I hope not soon. It may be that the wild boy's pack is called for at some future games, and each and every one of you will need to know you will not be betrayed by this boy.

"It is for this reason that I have called you to witness his punishment. Know that the same punishment awaits any gladiator who puts his own foolish ego and desires ahead of his fellow fighter's wellbeing. You will know not to do what this boy has done, and Lupus will never again do anything so foolish.

"To ensure the lesson is learned, Lupus will be whipped until he begs forgiveness from each boy here."

The boys muttered inaudibly and Patricius looked at them, his eyes fixing on Calvinus who, Enoch noticed, was smiling.

"Not you Calvinus. You are not a boy."

Patricius' rebuke wiped the smile from Calvinus' face. Enoch was a little gratified, but nothing could quell the fear he felt now. He tried one gamble.

"Marcus, Nathan, Calgacus, I beg your forgiveness."

Marcus snorted with laughter and even Nathan smiled, but Patricius was not amused.

"Oh no, Lupus. You will beg with a lot more feeling than that before we are done. I will decide when you have begged enough."

And with that he drew back the whip and swung his arm. There was a loud crack, and for the briefest instant the feeling of the lash landing on his bare flesh seemed almost unreal, almost no worse than a slap. Yet before his brain could even process that information, Enoch felt his back erupt into the most exquisitely agonising pain he had ever felt as the whip ripped open a huge welt, the slender end of it wrapping right around his battered ribs.

A moment before, Enoch had been determined not to scream, but the howl he heard now escaped him before he even realised it was his own.

"And so the wolf boy howls!" Patricius yelled angrily and the whip landed again with another loud crack.

The pain was excruciating, beyond bearing, and soon the boy was begging forgiveness in earnest, begging for mercy, begging for anything but to have the punishment cease.

Patricius seemed oblivious to the pleading, laying down stroke after terrifying stroke on the boy's back, marking him with bleeding furious red welts.

Only when Enoch was close to delirium, tears washing his face, did he let up.

"If this ever happens again, Lupus, you will join Calvinus in having your male parts cut out, and I will personally impale you on a stake. This will never, never happen again. Do you understand me?"

Enoch nodded, sobbing, his body shaking involuntarily. He felt almost detached from himself now, his skin sweating and clammy as he swung from the manacles, no longer with the power to stand in his legs.

Patricius unfastened the boy from the manacles, and he sank to the floor.

"That is right, boy. Kneel and beg forgiveness one more time."

Enoch knelt, head bowed, moaning with pain, and begged forgiveness from each boy in turn. No one was laughing now.

"Good. Now I want you out of my sight. I don't want to see you again as long as we are at Pompeii." Patricius barked and then turned to Calvinus.

"Calvinus, you will take Lupus to Oplontis today. He won't be able to walk so you can hitch a ride on the supply cart when it leaves later. When you get to Oplontis, you will report to the sea captain Naso. You, Lupus and our Capua equipment will be sailing with him for Misenum where you will be met by Mergus, the Capua slave. He is waiting for the cargo and will travel with you back to Capua".

***

Oplontis was some five miles from Pompeii, but every mile they travelled was excruciating to Enoch. He lay in the cart groaning and sobbing as the driver of the wagon chatted amiably enough to Calvinus.

When the journey was done, Enoch endured a tortured walk to the docks, people pointing and staring, laughing or looking on in sympathy. Yesterday he had felt like the hero of Pompeii, the boy who defeated Simo the gladiator. Now he followed Calvinus, chastened, subdued, and in agony. Calvinus seemed to be enjoying the walk.

They found the ship easily enough and were allowed on board as the equipment and other cargo was loaded up. They were led to a small cabin below the deck, and sat between boxes of cargo to await departure. Calvinus had found some bread to eat for lunch, but Enoch declined it, not hungry.

And so it was that they were below deck when they heard the bang and roar, the shouts and commotion on the deck. The noise was like thunder but lower, longer, unceasing.

What was that? Despite his pain, Enoch felt some curiosity. He had never heard anything like this before.

There were screams from people on the shore, shouts, people calling questions, and the sound of a scuffle close by, like people fighting on the gang plank, and louder than all the other voices, Naso's bellowing shout – a desperate order.

"Cast off. Cast off now. We sail!"

Enoch was too stiff and in agony to move and find out what had happened but Calvinus attempted to climb the ladder out of the cabin only to be pushed back by a sailor.

"Stay in there. Don't move. Do nothing. Touch nothing." He yelled and slammed a hatch down, cutting out all light except the few slivers of sunlight showing through the deck boards – and even that seemed to be dimming rapidly.

What the hell was happening out there?

"I will not be able to come to see you for a few days."

Britannicus lay in the arms of the senator, nestling into his body, enjoying the man's closeness, and the tender way he was planting kisses on his hair and cheeks, and the way the man was caressing his naked body. The love making was done, and the boy had the familiar feel in his bum, sore but not too much so, the man's seed inside him and the after feel that he would get as the senator withdrew. Once again the senator had brought the boy to climax after he was done himself. Now was the cuddling time that Britannicus liked even more than the feeling of release as he would experience a dry orgasm at the man's hands.

As he received the news, though, he felt a sinking feeling. Every day for more than a week now he had spent time with Gaius Aurelius, and the senator always left him in no doubt that he only departed unwillingly.

It was not just the cuddling that the boy liked. The senator was always full of amusing stories, and also seemed to enjoy letting Britannicus play and watching as the boy chased rabbits or sheep in a field, climbed trees, tried to balance as he walked along walls. All of it was positively encouraged by the senator who was always waiting there with a smile on his face, like a favourite uncle.

"The games are over and I will need to spend some time with my family, although I intend to return to Rome on the calends of September. When I do so, I will have you sent up too. In fact, I may purchase you for my household."

That was better news and Britannicus smiled as he lay his head on the senator's chest, listening to the man's strong heartbeat. The senator twirled the boy's hair in his fingers as he lay there.

"I think I will leave Calvinus at Capua. Better for all that he is far away."

Britannicus bit his lip. He did not like thinking of Calvinus, and he did not like it when the senator thought of him and Calvinus together. He seemed to think that he would have some kind of bond with the boy who had been his master, but the truth was he had never liked Calvinus much. The boy had been thoughtless at best, nasty at his worst. He had suffered many a bruise or cut lip or bloody nose at the hands of the boy, and more than once the sting of the rod at the hands of his father. It made Britannicus happy to think of the boy having to fetch and scurry at the orders of some other master.

All the same it was good that Calvinus would remain far away. Calvinus was the property of the senator now, and it could be him in the senator's arms. Better he not be nearby where the senator might choose a boy who could speak back to him, and use his mouth in other ways that were beyond Britannicus now.

"Would you like to be my slave?"

Britannicus sat up, turned and smiled at the senator. He nodded enthusiastically and threw himself into the man's arms, hugging tightly. The senator smiled too and stroked his hair with one hand, holding him tight to his own naked body with the other.

"Then you shall be, Britannicus. You shall be." He promised, kissing the boy, holding him close.

Britannicus closed his eyes happily, wanting this moment to last forever.

It didn't.

Out of the clear and hot cloudless day they heard the most terrifying roar, like thunder but longer and so much more terrible.

As man and boy turned their heads north, they saw a terrifying plume of dark smoke shooting from the mountain, Vesuvius, as though one of the old gods was vomiting the contents of the underworld into the air above.

Britannicus looked at the sight and began to shake with unabated fear. He clung tightly to the senator, but his eyes were transfixed by the mountain erupting, spewing flame and a deep dark cloud upwards. Britannicus had neither seen nor hear of anything like this.

What was that terrible? roar. There was so much smoke, it must have been pouring out for many seconds or minutes before the thundering sound had reached them. What monster had awoken from the earth to do this?

"Dear gods, what is that!" The senator whispered. "Like the fires of Vulcan spewing forth…

"The damned magistrate should not have dropped that blasted offering."

The senator was shaking too. His voice was steady, but Britannicus could feel it. The senator was frightened. Britannicus held on to him as the man stood up.

"I have to get back to Stabiae." The man said, and still Britannicus held on. He did not want to be left behind. If he could speak he would beg to be taken with him, he would have begged the senator to keep him safe from the monster or the wrath of the gods or whatever it was that was bellowing out of the mountain and rapidly coming this way. Instead he just held tight to the man, making his request known simply by refusing to let go of him.

"Go home Britannicus. Get back to Pompeii. I will send for you soon."

Britannicus would not let go, and the senator tried to peel him off, but the boy was clutching and holding onto his leg now, making a whining pitiful noise of fear, and all the while the sky was darkening as the cloud of smoke filled the northern sky.

Gods above, Britannicus thought, it was coming this way.

"Britannicus, let go of me and go!" The senator ordered sharply. Still Britannicus clung on. Was this a Roman god or a god of the Britons come to punish him for his weakness? There was no doubt in his mind, though, that the god was about to strike him down. Britannicus wet himself, pee splashing onto the senator's foot.

"Gods, Britannicus, get off me you stupid fucking slave!" The senator roared and struck him hard across the face. Britannicus let go and clutched his face, looking at the senator in horror. The senator looked pale and was pulling on his tunic quickly.

"Go back to Pompeii. Go!" He ordered, not looking at the boy whose eyes had filled with tears, and whose cheeks were suddenly wet with them too. Without even checking to see if Britannicus was obeying, the senator ran across the field to where his horse was tied up. Britannicus could see the creature was panicked, but the senator was a skilled horseman and subdued the beast. He mounted, again without a backwards glance, and rode off at a gallop towards Stabiae.

Britannicus looked towards Pompeii, a little below the hills he was on, but he did not run that way. Instead he turned south and ran as fast as he could uphill and away from the advancing black plume.

"Where is father?" Julia asked as she helped herself to a plate of vegetables, fish and cold meats left over from the previous evening. Dinner the night before had been an elaborate affair, in celebration of the festival of Vulcanalia and in thanks of the successful games that Gaius Aurelius had been involved in. Father had been in fine spirits then, and Julia had been allowed to sit with him on a stool in the triclinium. Mother and father had chatted amiably together, which was rare these days, and Julia had enjoyed the evening more than her sisters who were considered too young to join them, and had eaten elsewhere.

"He had business in Pompeii, he said. Something to do with wrapping up the games." Mother's face darkened as she said this and Julia frowned. She looked around to check the slaves were out of ear shot, and when the girl who had brought in the food for lunch had left, she leaned closer.

"He has gone to see a boy, hasn't he."

Mother's eyes narrowed.

"Your father seeks happiness where he will."

Julia had not spoken with her mother about the events back in Rome, but when she had arrived at Stabiae her mother had embraced her with tears that showed she was already well aware of all that had happened there. For Julia's part, she was happier trying to forget Valerius Maximus and his vile son, Calvinus and everything to do with them. She spent much time washing in the baths, but she did not know if she would ever feel truly clean again. Valerius Maximus had stolen something precious from her, and if she could turn the clock back to the time before this summer, she gladly would have.

Now though, the time had come to speak of such things.

"Do you think it is Calvinus?"

Mother shook her head, a response that was very telling. She did not need to ask who Calvinus was, nor did she think hard about the response. She already knew.

"Your father, unlike the emperor and half the senate, has never had much time for eunuchs. He prefers his boys whole. In any case, I understand that boy is serving in the Ludus, and that is not where your father is most often to be found."

"Father spoke of adopting him once." Julia mused.

Mother stopped chewing, looking hard at her daughter for a moment, before picking up a cup of wine and taking a sip. She placed the vessel back on the table before speaking again.

"It is a matter of disappointment to your father that he has no son and heir. Had your brother not died in infancy he would not need think of such things. Nevertheless when he does finally adopt someone I do hope it is someone he has chosen for a reason other than a stirring in his loins."

Mother had never spoken so frankly to Julia, and the girl felt privileged by the confidence. This made her feel more grown up, and she placed a hand on her mother's.

"What happened to Calvinus' slave, Britannicus?" Julia asked.

"What indeed? My spies tell me he was sold at auction to a whorehouse."

Julia nodded.

"It could be Britannicus, Julia. It could be him your father sees, or it could be any other boy that has recently taken his fancy. Your father has had a succession of boy lovers over the years, all of them slaves of course. Never before has he risked the scandal of taking a freeborn boy to his bed. Hopefully he will not think of doing the same again in the future."

"Does it trouble you?" Julia asked.

"Your father has given me three beautiful daughters." Mother replied after a pause. "I would not have had you without him. I do not regret that."

That had not been the question, but Julia did not press it. She did not need to. She finished lunch and looked out to the gardens, a refreshing wind coming from the north swaying the trees.

"I think I will take a walk in the gardens." She informed her mother.

"As you will. I will lay down for a while." Mother replied.

That was not unusual – a siesta after lunch was common enough, but Julia did not like to sleep in the afternoons, preferring the solitude of shaded places outdoors at a time of day when there would be few people around to interrupt her thoughts.

She went out to the garden and walked among the trees, picking flowers to make a garland with later. She would do that for Aurelia, her youngest sister. Aurelia always loved wearing flower garlands.

She was lost in thought. The conversation had reminded her of things she had tried to bury. The touch of Valerius Maximus as he forced himself upon her. Calvinus, who had always bored her, and who had told her the rape was of no consequence. The boy who had threatened to rape her himself.

She remembered her father raping him in turn. That too had affected her more than she could imagine. The sight of father pleasuring himself on the boy. The moment of his climax when she could see and hear his animal pleasure. It had all left her feeling sullied, and she regretted asking to watch – although the look on Calvinus' face had made it worth it.

Calvinus deserved everything he got. She was glad father had him castrated. She thought she might even have liked to do it herself in revenge for what his father did. In revenge for his obnoxious threats. Qualis pater talis filius, As the father is, so is the son, she thought, reciting the saying. There was no doubt he would have tried to make good on his threats had father not done that.

She was thinking these thoughts when she heard something like thunder. The sky was blue, almost free from clouds, so the thunder seemed strange. She looked towards the sound. There, miles away, was the mountain, Vesuvius, and above it a great pillar of dark cloud or smoke, as though billowing out from it, and then seeming to spread out like the top of an umbrella pine.

The sound went on, and the cloud was growing larger, and now there was an earth tremor to add to everything else.

Julia dropped the flowers and ran for the villa. She had better tell mother – she would know what was happening.

Nathan was sparring with Calgacus on the sand of the arena. Patricius was watching from the shade at the arena edge, calling out encouragement.

Nathan dodged and parried and dodged some more. Calgacus was quick and dangerous with a blade and Nathan had never beaten him, but he had discovered that he could dodge and dive well enough to avoid losing either. Both boys were sweating, dirty, but not unhappy.

For Nathan's part, he had faced death yesterday and survived. The punishment and ignominious departure of Lupus had not been enough to dampen the elation he felt, and the sense of achievement. Calgacus was always happy with a weapon in his hand. The boy was born to fight, and even though he had been captured and enslaved, that had not dented his enthusiasm for it. He fought with a tight smile on his face, panting a little.

There had been more earth tremors since the one yesterday, and they felt one now as they sparred – not as big as the one that had saved Lupus' life yesterday, but big enough to feel. The boys slackened off as they waited for it to pass. Nathan thought that he would prefer to be back in Rome where the ground did not keep shaking. It was unsettling.

This time though the shaking did not pass quickly. Instead it seemed to grow more violent as the seconds passed, and then a full minute or more after the shake began Nathan heard a roar like nothing he had ever heard before.

Within the arena, they could not see what was happening, but there were shrieks and yells from beyond the walls. Both boys looked uncertainly to where the sounds were coming from.

Patricius looked too and then suddenly there was a cracking sound, and the wooden supports of the stand above Patricius broke apart, the wooden struts, and tons of stone coming down upon him in a cloud of dust that quickly billowed across the sand towards the boys, engulfing them, making them choke.

The boys were transfixed for a few seconds and then the need to breath fresh air forced Nathan into action.

"We need to get help." Nathan shouted, coughing, and turned towards the cells where the other gladiators were, close to where the stand had collapsed. Calgacus grabbed his shoulder and as Nathan turned, the boy shook his head.

"No. Danger." The boy said in his broken Latin. Then he pointed to the far stands, still intact. "This way."

As if to punctuate his words there was another cracking sound and yet more stone tumbled to the ground. There were shouts from the other gladiators now. They needed help from outside – the vigiles maybe.

Nathan followed the barbarian boy, and watched as Calgacus climbed the side of the arena, up into the stands. He leaned over and held a hand out and Nathan grabbed it, pulling himself up, scrambling against rough stonework, finding footholds in the cell windows set in the arena wall, his free hand closing around a wooden support. He climbed into the stand, and then both boys ran through the visitor entrance, out into the streets of Pompeii.

What they discovered was pandemonium. People were running, screaming. Men were shouting, children were crying – one of them, a girl of about five, alone and calling for her mother. Over everything, like a monstrous black hand, reaching out to grab them, there was a huge terrible black cloud.

"We have to get help for Patricius and the others." Nathan yelled.

"No. Run." Calgacus shouted back and pulled at Nathan's hand, but the boy shook him off.

"No, Patricius could be alive. We get help."

"If alive, dead soon. Come!" Calgacus shouted and then he ran down the street, heading out of Pompeii and towards the hills beyond.

Nathan watched the boy go and felt a terrible tug of guilt. If he left, no one would know Patricius and the gladiators would need help. If he stayed he would probably die with him.

The boy looked towards Vesuvius, the black cloud reaching higher and nearer, a dark black hand reaching out of the earth like Satan himself come to claim the Romans to himself. Was this the judgement of God on these godless people? Was he to be caught up in the wrath God would pour out on the Romans who had destroyed his temple in Jerusalem? Was he meant to run – to escape – as one of God's people? Or was this God testing him to see if he would have compassion on the people who would die without his aid?

Should he find the vigiles and bring them here or should he escape?

Nathan uttered a quick prayer and made his decision.

Senator Gaius Aurelius

There was a whistling sound and a crash, and the senator's horse reared in shock as a pumice rock hurtled into the ground just ahead, raising a billowing cloud of dust. The senator struggled to maintain control of his horse, but it had been travelling too quickly and the sudden change in his mount was too much.

Gaius Aurelius fell to the road, and there was a loud crack as his arm snapped. He let out a yell of pain and grabbed his arm, which made a nasty grinding noise as a shard of bone and blood protruded from his flesh.

Already more rock was hurtling from the sky all around him. His horse had bolted, leaving him alone, in agony as the sky darkened as though to night, even though it was still early afternoon.

He had to get back to Stabiae – to his family. He must be a mile short, but he could walk that, even with a broken arm.

The senator stood to his feet, cradling his arm, and walked unsteadily along the path. The pumice was still falling, and he did not see the rock that struck him on the head.

Senator Gaius Aurelius fell to the ground, unconcious, blood pouring from the huge gash that the hot rock had opened in his skull. Had it not been pumice, the weight of the rock would have killed him instantly, but as it was the honeycombed light volcanic rock, he instead lay unconcious as more and more rock landed around him and on him, the heat of it setting fire to his tunic, and slowly burying him under a pile of scorching rock.

Julia

When her mother saw the angry black cloud coming towards them, belching forth from the mountain of Vesuvius, she had turned white at first and then walked around, flustered and muttering to herself. Praying, Julia realised. Calling on the family gods to spare them.

"Why isn't your father here?" She cried out at last.

Aurelia and Popea were crying and Julia shushed them.

"We are going to leave, aren't we mother? We could take a ship and go to the estate at Rome."

There was no answer, so she repeated the question. Still mother looked at the terrible vision before them, muttering her prayers and endlessly repeating that father would be home soon. Not to worry, we should wait for father.

Julia tried talking to her, begging her to act, cajoling her and at last Julia took the initiative. She called the slaves to the atrium.

"We are leaving. We will go to the docks and take a ship for Ostia." Then she pointed to one of the female slaves. "Lydia, you will look after my sisters. Make sure they do not leave your sight."

Mother started to fuss with a chest, looking through clothing.

"Mother, what are you doing?" Julia asked.

"I need to be dressed. We need to pack. We cannot go on a journey dressed like this."

"There is no time! Mother we must go now."

Julia tried to drag her mother from the room, but she would not leave.

"Your father will be here soon."

"Father can find us in Rome. Quick, we must go."

Still her mother would not come and infuriated Julia clutched and pulled her arm.

"Please mother… mama please… we need you to come."

At last Julia's words seemed to get through to her mother and she followed her daughter out. Lydia was already well ahead with her charges, heading down to the bay. They had waited too long though. Already the street down to the harbour was emptying, the mass of people had already passed this way, and rock was falling from the sky. There was an endless succession of whistling and crashing sounds as burning rock smashed holes in roof tiles, set fire to wood and straw, and all too often felled people too.

Julia covered her mouth. There were dead and dying people lying where they had fallen, covered in blood from wounds from the rock falling from the sky. They tried to shelter under the overhang of buildings where they could, and as they dashed from cover to cover, Julia prayed that none of the rocks that were striking them would be too large and heavy. The smaller ones bounced off them, burning hot but not too heavy. The people lying in the street were testament to the larger, deadlier ones

Julia could see ships setting sail already as the world turned dark with the fury of the gods. It felt like the world was ending. Oh gods she hoped the ships did not all leave before they got there.

"Mother, we must go faster." Why had they waited so long to leave. Julia sobbed in frustration, trying to drag her mother faster along the track, but mother appeared dazed, confused, and walking as if she was out on an afternoon stroll.

As she approached the small harbour of Stabiae, Julia watched in horror as the last ship set sail. It was too far away to hear, but still she called "Wait! wait for us!"

Julia saw her sisters with Lydia, on the ship, waving furiously, trying to get the sailors to pay attention, but the sailors were ignoring them, most of them pulling hard on the oars to leave the harbour against the wind.

The air felt heavy, and burned her lungs as Julia watched her sisters sailing away to safety. As she realised the ship was gone, she sank to her knees, coughing and sobbing.

"Daddy. Where are you daddy?" She wept, her mother just watching as rock and pumice rained down around them and the air grew thick with cloying ash that made it harder and harder to draw breath.

"Daddy!"

Gaius Plinius Secundus

My uncle, who had launched the fleet to lend aid, was now so close to the mountain that the cinders, which grew thicker and hotter the nearer he approached, fell into the ships, together with pumice- stones, and black pieces of burning rock: they were in danger too not only of being aground by the sudden retreat of the sea, but also from the vast fragments which rolled down from the mountain, and obstructed all the shore. Here he stopped to consider whether he should turn back again; to which the pilot advising him, "Fortune," said he, "favours the brave; steer to where Pomponianus is." Pomponianus was then at Stabiae, separated by a bay, which the sea, after much winding, forms with the shore. He had already sent his baggage on board; for though he was not at that time in actual danger, yet being within sight of it, and indeed extremely near, if it should in the least increase, he was determined to put to sea as soon as the wind, which was blowing dead in-shore, should go down. It was favourable, however, for carrying my uncle to Pomponianus, whom he found in the greatest consternation: he embraced him tenderly, encouraging and urging him to keep up his spirits.

Marcus

When the stands collapsed in the Ludus, they had blocked the entrance onto the sand from the gladiator quarters, walling the men in behind tonnes of rock, wood and rubble. Marcus and the other gladiators were frantically trying to pull beams and debris clear, but their efforts were making things worse.

The gladiators were strong men, but the ground was still shaking, and clearing heavy beams just brought more rubble crashing down.

Patricius was dead – that was plain enough – they could see his mangled body crushed beneath the beams.

They had to get out onto the sand. The gladiator cells did not open onto the street, of course. Gladiators were slaves, locked in unless permitted to leave the ludus through the public entrance. The public entrance was on the other side of the rubble. If they could not get out onto the sand, then they would all die in here.

"I reckon the boy could get through that gap." One man roared.

"And then what? he is no use to us out there."

"At least he would live." The first gladiator shouted back, and without gaining consensus or even waiting for a reply, he grabbed Marcus by the ankle and launched him into the space.

Marcus scrambled gratefully up. The space was incredibly tight. He could just about squirm through the gap, and bending his body, he could pull himself forwards.

He was almost there, just under this beam. Reach forward, try to grasp one last hand hold on a stone just beyond.

"That's it, boy. You can make it." Someone shouted behind him.

Marcus reached out and his hand closed on a rock, which mercifully held firm. He pulled himself forward. He was going to make it.

The ground shook, more than it had at any point yet, and Marcus held on, knuckles white, praying to all the gods.

And then the boy screamed as the beam he had been climbing under collapsed on top of him. There was a terrible ugly snapping sound, and his back erupted into intense pain, worse than anything he had ever experienced. Worse than being branded – far far worse.

Marcus howled, and clutched at the beam that had broken his back. The pain was so intense he did not realise he had lost feeling in his legs. He did not know he had just lost all bladder control. He could not see the appalled look of the gladiators in their dark prison that would soon be their tomb. All he knew was the agony in his back.

Marcus sobbed in agony, begged for mercy or help. Begging all the gods to let him live.

The only mercy the gods granted him was that he passed out long before he died.

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