Lysandra pulled Eirianwen closer to her. It was now, she decided, that she must give voice to the truth. ‘I love you.’
Eirianwen turned her head, and Lysandra saw with shock that her eyes were red rimmed and cracked. She had been crying.
Full of concern, she touched the tear-streaked face. ‘What is it?’ she whispered, kissing her. ‘What troubles you?’
‘Love,’ Eirianwen said simply. She turned about so they faced each other, and pulled Lysandra to her. For long moments they held each other, aware only of the closeness and comfort that embrace gave.
‘What is it?’ Lysandra asked again. She felt herself close to tears at Eirianwen’s pain, but she forced them away by effort of will.
It would be unseemly to cry, she admonished herself. Despite her declaration of love, she still had standards to adhere to.
Eirianwen broke their embrace, and sat back a little, gazing into her eyes. ‘I do love you, Lysandra,’ she said, and Lysandra’s heart leapt. ‘But this love causes me great pain.’
‘But why?’ Inside, Lysandra was all in delirium at Eirianwen’s words, but she forced herself to calm. There was more to this.
‘Sorina…’ Eirianwen swallowed. ‘Sorina hates you and is displeased by the way we feel. She…’ The Briton stopped, tears flooding her eyes. ‘She has cast me out of the Tribe.’
That, Lysandra considered, was only a good thing. Perhaps free of the old bitch’s influence, Eirianwen could truly learn what it was to be a civilised woman. She could see though that this proscription was hard for Eirianwen to take. ‘Perhaps she will reconsider,’ she offered.
Eirianwen shook her head. ‘That cannot be. For I have challenged her right in this.’
‘This is bad news.’ Lysandra nodded. ‘I am sure none of your kin would vote in favour of our love.’ The last word tasted good on her lips. But Eirianwen laughed harshly.
‘Vote?’ she said. ‘This is no vote, Lysandra! I am to fight her over you. To the death.’
Lysandra recoiled. ‘That cannot be!’ she exclaimed. ‘It is true that she and I are not enamoured of each other but she is your friend. Your Clan Chief!’
‘Not when this is over. One of us will die. It must be so.
Either she will remain Chief or I will take her place. That can be the only outcome. But either way, I lose. If I die, then it is over. But even if I win, what have I won? The others will have to take me as Chief but I shall ever be an outcast because of my love for you!’
Lysandra took Eirianwen’s hands in her own. ‘This is an absurdity,’ she stated. ‘If Sorina has issue with us, then let it be me that takes this burden.’ Inwardly she burned with the desire to face the Amazon with her sword in hand, partly because she had come to hate her, but more for the pain she had caused Eirianwen.
But the Briton shook her head.
‘You are not of the Tribes. And even if you were, it was I who made the Challenge. It is I who must face her.’
‘I cannot understand this,’ Lysandra said. ‘It is the way of…’
She halted, nearly uttering the word ‘barbarians’. ‘The Tribes,’ she amended hastily, ‘and I have no experience of it. But I do know this. Leaders are the same, whatever their kith or kin. When you defeat her, the others will know that you have taken your rightful place. You said it yourself, Eirianwen. Sorina has grown bitter in hatred.’
Eirianwen’s brow creased as she considered her words, and Lysandra fought down the urge to kiss her, which would have ruined the flow of her impromptu oratory. She pressed on. ‘Does it matter that my ancestors were Spartan and yours noble folk of Britannia? How can there be evil in two people’s love for one another? Especially in this place! Why would she see ill in our happiness?’
‘Because we are not the same,’ Eirianwen whispered. ‘What hope can there be for us, Lysandra? Truly? Our chances of getting out of here alive grow slimmer with every bout. And even if we win free, what then? We are two women, a barbarian and a former priestess. Where could we go together that would not bring a thousand troubles on our heads?’
‘ Amor vincit omnia, Eirianwen. Love conquers all things, and there is truth in that. We will win free, and we will be together.’
As she spoke, Lysandra felt alive with the conviction of her words.
‘I have never known love before. Indeed, I have spurned it, thinking it would make me weak. But when I look into your eyes, I feel such strength… I feel that when I am with you I could accomplish anything. I care not for the scorn of others. I care only that you are by my side and I by yours. Women we may be, but our love goes deeper than any shared by man and wife. For we are equals, Eirianwen, and that is a rare thing in this world.’
Lysandra saw hope flare in Eirianwen’s beautiful blue eyes.
‘You think this could be true?’
‘I know so,’ she said. This was the first time, she recognised an Eirianwen who needed her. The Briton was older and more experienced than she and Lysandra had been happy to let her take the lead in their relationship. But now, it was the tribeswoman who was lost and, in supporting her, Lysandra felt her own inner strength magnified. ‘That this has happened between you and Sorina is a bad thing,’ she conceded. ‘Life is full of bad things, Eirianwen. But the gods sweeten the bad with the good. Is it ill we are slaves? Yes. But if we were not, how would we have met?
And my freedom is small price to pay for what I feel at this moment.’
Eirianwen did not speak but leant forward, kissing her with a soft yet urgent passion. And for a while, the concerns of the world were lost to them.
XXVIII
‘Aeschylus wouldn’t budge.’ Septimus Falco and Balbus were relaxing in their favourite bathhouse, some distance from the arena. Lanista and promoter both found it beneficial to discuss matters away from the distractions of the amphitheatre.
‘A pity.’ Falco wiggled his toes, enjoying the calming heat of the water. ‘But, as for me, I can’t lose. You see, I didn’t exhaust my options.’ He chuckled. ‘Really, Balbus, you may be dripping in gold, but I have to make a living too! The governor himself has an interest in the bout and will be willing to cough up to see it.’
Balbus’s eyes were hooded. ‘I thought he was an ‘Achillia’ devotee,’ he said. ‘Why would he pay to see the others fight?’
‘You must have your head buried in day-to-day papers.’ Falco kicked out and floated lazily on his back before continuing. ‘Our Sextus Julius Frontinus has become an advocate of the women’s game. He’s totally enamoured of your Achillia, true, but have you not noticed he is always early for the female matches?’
Balbus’s grunt was derisive. ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I have too much to do. My days aren’t taken up with spectating,’ he added. ‘There are surgeons’ fees, bids for slaves from other schools, reports on slaves from other schools, correspondence, bet settlements…’ he trailed off. ‘It’s not easy being a lanista, Falco. People believe that all you need is a few sesterces and a couple of armed slaves to be a success. But I’m telling you, there is a lot more to it than that!’
‘You’ve turned it into an art form,’ Falco commented blithely and was rewarded by a scowl from Balbus. He returned to the side of the pool. ‘At any rate, the fight can go ahead,’ he said.
‘I’m haggling over terms but the governor is already sold on the idea. It’s just a question of how much I can squeeze out of him.’
‘That,’ Balbus smiled, ‘is always music to my ears, Falco.’
News of the impending bout between the two tribeswomen did not take long to spread amongst Balbus’s fighters and quickly to the other schools at the games. Keeping the fact a secret was impossible, as gossip amongst the slaves of both arena and ludus was rife. No sooner had Balbus put the paperwork together, than the news got out, courtesy of the scribes.
For Eirianwen, it was hellish. Having been cast out of the Tribe, women whom she counted friends could no
