The Slave's Gladiator

Chapter 8: The Blacksmith

The creaking of the door brought her attention to Gamba. Her smile twitched at the little tray he tried to balance between large fingers. "Dp you want some help or-"

"No, no, I got it." Some soup nearly slosh out the bowl. "I got...it." A chuckle left Hadriana's lips. His body does not support that sheepish space. If anything, it reminded her of a puppy with feet too large for its body.

He eased the tray down in front of her. "I may have told Risohia's that we were um..."

"Married?"

Gamba flinched. "It was just so they gave us a room together. You were feverish and screaming and I couldn't...." He swallowed. "I couldn't stand to leave you like that." Oh, Gamba. She reached forward, grabbing his hand and entwining their fingers.

Looking down at their hands, his thumb brushed against her knuckles as his eyes darkened. "I'm sorry." His gaze flickered to her bandage shoulder. "I thought if I left soon enough, then you would be safe," he whispered.

She watched his thumb continue the soothing gesture.

"You should eat."

He placed the stew on her lap. Her stomach rumbled as the familiar scenes and spices flooded her nose. Unlike the one back in her old work, this place didn't seem to forget the "meat" of the stew. Her stomach growled louder at the thick chunks of what seemed to be beef or lamb.

This all, the food, the care, it must have cost a fortune. Her thumb brushed against the smooth wooden handle in her hand. And with my master being dead....She hesitated. Where do I even go from here? Her finger brushed against the tender skin around her neck. Despite her escape without it, the weight of the collar was forever burned into her mind.

Maybe, I can find a place to settle down. Maybe get a job here?

And then what? The question mocked. Spend your days withering away while serving food?

Hadriana swallowed. How long had she dreamt of freedom? Of the days when she no longer had to fear the whip or her master's gaze? Now, now that she had what she so long for, the ideas slipped through her fingers like sand grains. "What do I do?" she whispered.

"About?"

She met Gamba's gaze. "Me. I have no idea where to even start with my life. Varinius burned the estate and I...." She trailed off.

"Well," Gamba's voice softened. "You can start by accepting your name. Your real name."

Valeria. The name weighed on her mind. How could she be Valeria now? Not when years of her was lost to the Romans?

And what about Agustin? Why did she live? Why was she the one spared when he...he did nothing wrong? Why was he taken from her? Her heart ached at the questions.

If he was still here then she would be with him. They could have settled down and had the family they wanted. Now it was impossible. Her jaw clenched. All because I was a coward.

With a thud, Hadriana laid back on the bed she was given. She knew she was sinking deeper and deeper into self pity. It consumed her, wrestled with her hopes and dreams and turned them to ash right before her very eyes.

Despite Gamba's encouragement, sleep became her friend for the next few days. She didn't move when the door opened, she didn't touch the food that was left for her. All she could do was close her eyes and somehow hope this nightmare would end.

"Alright," Gamba's eyes narrowed. "How many days are you going to lie here?"

Valeria curled in tighter on herself. Just leave me alone to rot here.