‘Yes, of course, Excellency.’ Balbus felt something inside him fall over. Frontinus had not heard from any Spartan Embassy!
The old goat merely wanted to be pleasured by a gladiatrix. That he had chosen one so frigid she could have been made of marble was a situation that the lanista could have done without. Why had the old man not chosen someone who would have willingly fucked him senseless? Balbus could only assume this to be a manifestation of the other gods’ jealousy at all the favours Fortuna had shown him of late. He gave Frontinus a sickly smile. ‘I shall have her sent to you at the end of today’s spectacle, my lord,’ he added.
‘Excellent.’ Frontinus regaled him with a smile. ‘You may go.’
‘You wanted to see me, lanista?’
Balbus had had Lysandra conveyed by litter to his rented offices outside the arena. She was fast becoming popular with the mob and could not be allowed to travel openly. He regarded her critically, wondering if she would cause a stir in his loins. Despite his preference for men, Balbus had enjoyed females as his bed partners in the past. But, as she stood before him, tall, pale, and undeniably beautiful, he came to the conclusion that she was just not his type. ‘Indeed.’ He smiled at her in what he hoped was a genuine fashion. ‘Please,’ he gestured to a couch, ‘sit.’
Balbus clapped his hands and ordered slaves to bring wine. If she was at all taken aback by this show of hospitality, she gave no sign. Her cold gaze did not leave him and, though he could not be certain, Balbus thought there was the merest hint of an ironic half-smile playing about her lips. ‘You have been fighting extremely well,’ he told her as they sipped the local vintage.
Lysandra shrugged at the compliment. ‘Of course. I hope to be matched against more competent opponents. These we face currently are somewhat beneath me.’
Balbus resisted the urge to laugh at her casual arrogance. Or, he mused, was it more than mere superciliousness. He had the distinct impression that Lysandra’s bluster was heartfelt. ‘You underestimate the other schools, Lysandra,’ he offered. ‘There are some good fighters out there.’
‘I underestimate nothing, Lucius Balbus,’ she said. ‘That is folly.
However, I am aware of my own skills and have seen nothing in this competition to trouble me.’
‘You have not yet seen Sorina take to the sands.’ Balbus wanted to know just what Lysandra thought of his Gladiatrix Prima.
‘That is not a concern. We will not fight each other in these games. If the gods will that we are to meet on some other occasion, I shall have no compunction in sending your most profitable asset to Hades. But,’ she added, ‘you have not summoned me here to discuss my opinions on the games.’
‘No,’ Balbus agreed. There was little point in stalling matters any further. ‘The governor is quite taken with you,’ he went on.
‘He wants to meet you.’
‘He is an admirer of gladiatrices? Of women fighters?’ Lysandra raised a quizzical brow.
‘Well, as you say,’ Balbus smiled at her, ‘you are extremely good.’
Lysandra seemed to mull that over for a few moments. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That would be most pleasant. I fail to see why Frontinus would want a slave at his dinner table, however.’ She said this with a sarcastic lilt in her voice.
‘Well…’ Balbus spread his hands. ‘Everybody loves the games.
Frontinus is a connoisseur and his position affords him the opportunity to meet the best fighters. You should be honoured,’ he added, appealing to her ego.
‘Slaves have no honour, Balbus,’ she told him mildly.
‘Yes, well,’ he brushed over that. ‘Have a good time.’
Lysandra rose to her feet and made to go to the door. She paused, and turned back to him. ‘Balbus… the governor wishes to talk to me. And that is all?’
Balbus sighed. He wanted to lie to her, but he realised that if Lysandra went into the situation unknowing, her reaction to wandering hands from Frontinus could be violent, as she had proven when Nastasen had manhandled her. That would certainly spell death for her, and a mountain of trouble for him and the repercussions. ‘You had better sit down,’ he said. He watched her return to her seat, wondering how she was going to react to the unspoken truth. ‘Lysandra. It may be that he wants more than talk.’
‘I will not lay with him,’ she affirmed, ice in her voice. ‘We are not whores, I have told you this. I am, or was, a Priestess of Athene. It is forbidden for me to be known by a man.’
Balbus had not known that, but part of the girl’s enigma was revealed to him; this, then, was why she reacted so to Nastasen’s attentions. ‘Look, I said it may be that he wants to…’ the lanista cleared his throat, ‘you know. Do it. But maybe not. I just thought I would say something in case he… you know…’ Balbus trailed off, feeling somewhat like a mouse under the gaze of a snake.
‘In that case, it is impossible for me to attend. Balbus, you must tell him I am unwell.’
‘Lysandra, you cannot refuse a summons from the governor.’
The lanista hated to implore, but the ramifications of snubbing an influential man like Frontinus would be huge.
‘No.’
‘Look.’ Balbus became all business. ‘I’ll make it worth your while.’
‘There is nothing you can offer me that will make me change my mind.’ Lysandra said loftily. ‘Unless you offer me freedom, which I sincerely doubt.’
‘No, I can’t offer you that,’ he agreed. ‘But I can cancel the twenty lashes you are to receive when you return to the ludus.
And,’ he added, ‘I can also forget about the complaints from the surgeon that you knocked him out cold to steal drugs for an already dead companion.’
‘I am used to the lash, Balbus. It was common to receive it in the agoge. Or have you failed to notice how much my back is scarred already?’
‘I can also have you and your Greeks moved from the barracks cells into the houses,’ Balbus offered, his eyes not leaving hers.
She wavered, he could see it. ‘And ensure that Nastasen is assigned duties that keep him away from you.’ He pressed his advantage.
‘In effect, you would be responsible for training the Greek women.
Though of course, you would have to muster with the others.
You must have seen that the more senior gladiatrices do not have the same regime as you currently do. I can elevate you and your women,’ he snapped his fingers, ‘like that.’
‘ If I go.’
‘Yes. If you go.’
Lysandra got to her feet and commenced pacing up and down her arms folded across her chest, finger tapping her chin. Balbus watched, fancying he could read her thoughts by her expression. Intelligent she may be, but he was the master of making deals, his experience spanning years. She stopped suddenly. ‘Very well. I shall go, if you swear that you will not renege on your promise.’
‘I swear,’ Balbus said at once, raising his hands piously.
Lysandra rolled her eyes. ‘You make oaths too swiftly, Balbus.’
‘I am a religious man,’ he retorted. ‘You may not think it, but it is the truth.’ Lysandra stared at him for too long and Balbus had to fight down the urge to fidget under her cold, ice coloured gaze. There was something commanding about her, he realised.
Guile she may not possess, but nevertheless she would be a formidable woman in years to come.
‘I hope matters do not transpire as you have foreseen,’ she said quietly. ‘But if the lives of my sister Hellenes can be made better by my…’ she trailed off. ‘By my giving myself to this man, then it shall be done.’
‘I hope so too.’ Balbus was surprised that he actually meant it. He did, however, feel no guilt that he had bargained with gifts that Lysandra and her women had earned already. Their performances had warranted that they be elevated, but it would have been senseless to let her know that. Better to let her think that her self-sacrifice was duly noble.
And he was pleased that, along with their toughness, Spartan gullibility was no myth either.
