The Slave's Gladiator

Chapter 4: An Offer

Pain didn't spare anyone, not even Hadriana. Each movement was a ripple effect of pain that clenched her lungs and tossed spots across her vision. Her stomach churned. Her knees buckled. The cool, dusty wall braced her in a hug. Please, just work a little longer.

Yelling filled her ears. A whip cracked in the distance. Closing her eyes, Hadriana breathing shuddered. With a push off the wall, she made her way back to her sickle. A fiery pain sliced through her arm as she cut the wheat again and again, over and over.

Taking a step, her knees buckled. She barely caught herself with a pained cry. The yelling started again. Her body tensed at the crack of the whip. Her eyes snapped shut.

"Don't." Her master stormed toward them with a man trailing behind.

Hadriana's eyes widened. Gamba? The man before her didn't look like Gamba. Instead of his gladiator armor of leather around his chest and waist, he had a dark gray tunic that seemed to be of cotton. His dark eyes softened.

What is he doing here?

Her master stepped closer. Hands grabbed her arms, pulling her to her feet. "She's a little broken at the moment, but I doubt that'll be much trouble." He pushed her toward Gamba. "I want her back alive. Any child she bares will be given to you at birth."

What? Her eyes met Gamba's. A wave of horror washed over her at the implications of her master's words. He couldn't...Her stomach churned. He wouldn't. As the master walked away, Hadriana couldn't turn her gaze from him. As he reached toward her, she recoiled.

"Easy," his voice softened. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Hadriana bit her lip. Her eyes watched him wearily, not quite sure if she could trust him. Her arms wrapped protectively around herself. "You paid a night for me."

"I did."

At least he wasn't denying it.

"But it's only so we could talk." Talk? His hand held out to her. "Come on." After a moment of hesitation, she laid her hand in his. Leaning against him for support, they headed toward the heart of Rome.

Reaching her tabernae, her stomach growled at the smell of spices and food. With her back making it hard to walk, scraps were her dinner when Tullia couldn't bring her food. She hissed as the hardwood brushed against her back. She didn't miss Gamba's worried gaze.

"What can I get you?" A servant asked.

"Two orders of wine and stew." He dropped two silver coins onto the table. As the woman grabbed it, Hadriana leaned forward slightly. "So, it seems like you won the fight after all."

His lips twitched. "I did." He turned to her. "Thanks to you I knew to switch the cup of wine."

"So, he's..."

"Dead." He said the words as if they were a fly or a piece of ash to be brushed away. For a minute, the silence between them returned. What was going through his mind? What was he thinking about now? Was he relieved? Did he feel guilt?

Maybe if it's my time...

Why did he say that? Fingers brushed against her hands, snapping her out her thoughts. His dark eyes stared into her own. "What happened?"

Hadriana swallowed. "I was whipped," she confessed, causing his eyes to darken. "My master's wife, Domitia, thought I was running away."

"So they whipped you." His hands clenched slightly. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have warned me."

"I made the decision to warn you, remember?" At his guilt, her voice softened. "I knew the risk."

"You did." His eyes softened. His hands brushed against hers again. "And you still took the fall." Her heart skipped a beat. "And that's why I want to offer you your freedom?"