Thebe shook her head, tears streaming down her face as her lungs tried to fill with air. She held up her arm, to reveal an ugly swelling on her wrist. Stick’s expression became disgusted.
‘Broken!’ he exploded. ‘Damn you!’
Lysandra shrugged. ‘It appears that my luck, as you call it, has held out. It would also appear that I am no longer the only one to be sent to the infirmary.’ She felt a sense of vindication. Thebe had learned that it could be painful to question a Spartan priestess’s ability to fight. She had brought her injury upon herself with her boastful words and Lysandra deemed that she should consider herself lucky it was only a broken wrist she had suffered. Insolence was something she was no longer prepared to tolerate. ‘Perhaps I should train with a more experienced fighter,’ she suggested contemptuously.
‘Like Hildreth?’ Stick shot back. ‘You think you can put her down?’
‘I will put down who ever I am matched against, Stick. Have no fear of that.’ She held his gaze, realising that his statement had been designed to test her. By threatening her with a bout against the imposing German, he was gauging if her confidence had truly been restored, for her eyes would give her away if there were any doubt behind them. ‘Well?’ she said after moment’s silence.
Stick looked away, and spat on the ground. ‘No, I don’t think so. Listen to me. You’ll train with the novices, but I warn you.
Any more of this,’ he indicated Thebe who was now on her feet, ‘and I’ll have you crucified. You’ve proven your point.’
‘Very well.’ Lysandra moved away to join the main throng of women, confident that she would impress upon the novices just who was the superior in the ludus.
Lysandra worked herself hard, revelling in her newly discovered resolve. Her opponents were, of course, mediocre, but she could only fight who was put before her. It was all training, she told herself, and substandard opposition allowed her to try out and perfect techniques that could later be used against more competent opposition.
By the day’s end, she had left many of the novices sporting bruised bodies and injured pride. This first day had done much to earn her the respect she deserved, and she determined that the proving would go on until she was satisfied.
‘You trained well today. Really well,’ Thebe commented as the Hellene contingent ate their evening meal. The smaller girl was from Corinth and, though that was some distance from Sparta, she was a Peloponnesian and that gave them a vague kinship.
Thebe had made an effort to find her at the close of the days training, and invite her to share a meal; as it was, Lysandra was pleased to accept. Thebe held up her bandaged wrist ruefully.
‘Stick was wrong, though. It’s not broken, just bruised. And wounding me seems to be the tonic you needed,’ she added with a smile. ‘You’ve come out of your shell.’
Lysandra considered apologising for the injury, but decided against it. Better to leave the impression that she was implacable.
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘I have found that I have adjusted to life here.
It is not the Spartan way to fail at a task. I had felt hard done by to be here, but we must accept the will of the goddess.’
‘I’m coming around to that way of thinking,’ Thebe agreed.
‘You know, that bastard Titus is right. At the end of the day, this is a better life than most have.’
‘Too right,’ another novice cut in; Lysandra knew her as Danae, an Athenian. ‘I thought at first this would be the end of me. I mean, slavery!’ she laughed aloud. ‘Can you imagine it? But I’ll tell you this: I’m more free here than ever I was in Athens.’
‘How can that be so?’ Lysandra arched a quizzical eyebrow.
Danae chewed thoughtfully before responding. ‘It’s hard for a Spartan to understand,’ she offered. ‘I know that Spartan girls are allowed to walk the streets unescorted, that they own property, and have a voice in affairs.’
‘Of course,’ Lysandra said. ‘That is only right and proper.’
‘It is not so in the rest of Hellas.’ Danae shook her head. ‘I was married when I came of age and my life consisted of the home and pleasing my husband. That was it. It was rare to see Athens. That is a conundrum, is it not?’ she added thoughtfully.
‘We Athenians live in the most beautiful city in the world, yet half its people are rarely allowed out to enjoy it.’
‘So how do you come to be here?’ Lysandra wanted to know.
‘My husband was many years older than I. I was married off to him at the age of twelve in exchange for a dowry — which one could say is a form of slavery in itself. We women are bought and sold for money even in life outside the ludus.’ She paused and her expression became melancholy. ‘Things went well enough at first, but soon he became intolerable.’ She held up her cup.
‘Wine was his master. When he was drunk, he would beat me and do unspeakable things.
‘I bore it from my twelfth year to my eighteenth, but some things are unendurable. He came after a night of dicing and drinking — I think he had lost a purseful of money — and started on me. I fought back for the first time and he fell. Smashed his head open.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘I was convicted of murder and sent to the blocks. One of Balbus’s agents liked the look of me, and here I am,’ she finished.
‘Surely you cannot have been convicted at trial for that,’ Lysandra said. ‘You acted in self-defence.’
‘Trial?’ Danae looked about at the other women’s knowing faces. ‘Where did you get the idea that women are entitled to trial, Lysandra? We have no rights, no say.’
‘It’s true,’ Thebe agreed. ‘This place offers a woman freedom outside of what she can get in normal life. Men run this world, Lysandra, but this ludus exists outside of that. We may be slaves to Balbus, but we do own our lives here. I am coming to understand that now. They might call us slaves but we are free in our hearts.
That is what Titus meant behind all his bluster and his threats.’
‘I’d like a piece of him,’ another woman cut in. ‘And you know what piece I mean.’
Thebe turned, astonished. ‘Titus!’ she exclaimed, laughter in her eyes. ‘Penelope, that’s disgusting. He’s so… old.’
Penelope, a chunky fisher girl from one of the Aegean islands shrugged. ‘I’m drying up in here,’ she complained.
Lysandra flushed, her embarrassment plain on her pale features.
This was certainly not a fit topic for discussion. She was about to turn the conversation to another area but Thebe spoke first.
‘But that Catuvolcos.’ Thebe sighed. ‘Now he looks like he could really go at it.’ She made an obscene gesture. ‘That big chest and those muscular arms. And I reckon there’s a cornu-copia of joy under his subligaculum. A shame he only has eyes for Lysandra though.’ She nudged Danae’s knee under the table with her own.
‘I am sure you are mistaken.’ Lysandra was scandalised at this kind of talk. ‘He took a professional interest in my skills.’
‘He’s taken an interest in sheathing his sword in a Spartan scabbard,’ Danae said, laughing. She put on a high falsetto voice.
‘Lysandra, Lysandra, I love you. Oh, Lysandra…’ Danae moved her bottom on the bench seat, thrusting it back and forth. ‘Ohhh, you are so wonderful, Lysandra, you are so good!’
If Lysandra had flushed before, she was scarlet now. This banter was outrageous. The women at the table fell about themselves laughing, sparing her further taunting. She did not feel anger at the jibes, for they were plainly made in good humour and without malice, but they did underscore the differences between herself and this uncouth band.
They finished their meal in light-hearted spirits and Lysandra had to admit to herself that, whilst she maintained a certain aloofness, she was pleased that she had allowed them to include her in their group. Certainly, these crass, ill-educated souls could only benefit from being in her company. It was not enough that she show them her prowess in fighting; she must also be pre-eminent in all other matters. Teaching them some decent, Spartan manners would certainly be beneficial she decided.
As she bade them good evening to return to her cell, she wondered where they had got the absurd notion that Catuvolcos had some sort of interest in her outside that of her training. She had had advances from men
