flesh, strength against strength.
It was the element of the Tribal warrior. Sorina felt a power unknown surge through her as she dived into the fray, punching and kicking, her blows pulping flesh and breaking bone.
Above the milling heads she could see the tall form of Lysandra pushing her way towards her. She grinned savagely, her hands forming claws. Now she would have her reckoning.
‘ Lanista!’
Balbus looked up from his work to see Stick careering into his office. The Parthian was in a state of panic. ‘What is it, Stick?’ he said, becoming alarmed. Stick was unflappable for the most part.
‘Riot!’ the trainer screeched.
‘Call the guards!’ Balbus propelled himself up and out of his chair as fast as his chunky body would allow.
‘I have.’ Stick began to run back towards the training ground.
‘Titus is out there now, leading them in.’
The lanista chased him outside and wrung his hands at the scene before him. His guards — all of them — had waded into a brawl, desperate to separate the two camps that had formed in the ludus.
On the one side were Lysandra and the women of the middle sea; on the other, Sorina and her barbarians. The women were tearing into each other with fury, screaming and shouting as they rained blows upon each other. Hildreth, he noted, was shoving her German women back, seemingly unwilling to become involved.
Balbus winced as she saw one of the Roman women dragged from her feet and slammed into a table by two barbarians and he cried aloud as they tipped the table over, crushing her beneath.
‘Stop them!’ he screamed, rushing forward. Stick grabbed him about the waist, and dragged him back.
‘Are you mad?’ the Parthian shouted. ‘You’ll be killed. Let the guards handle it.’
Protected by armour and shields, the hired men were having some success in forging a path between the two embattled antag-onists; their attentions were none too gentle and batons rose and fell with alarming force. Balbus could see a fortune being wasted in broken bones and incapacitated fighters; nevertheless, he silently admitted to himself that this was partially his fault. But Lysandra’s Greeks were winning — fighting together, and winning. Balbus considered that a sign from Fortuna.
The tide swept Lysandra from her path. Sorina screamed in rage and frustration, trying to claw her way through the throng to reach her. But each step she took, she realised that there was another Greek, another Roman to deal with. Even with the battle rage coursing through her she realised that, though fewer in number, Lysandra’s women were gaining the upper hand in the brawl. They had formed a line across the dining area and, where one fell so another moved forward to take her place, hammering the tired Tribeswomen from their feet.
She must call her people back, so that they might gather for a charge that would snap the spine of Lysandra’s women. But as she looked about, she felt a sharp blow to her head from behind.
Turning, she struck out furiously, only to encounter the unyielding wood of a guard’s shield. He hit her again, and twice more before she felt her legs go beneath her and the darkness closed in.
‘I’ve had everyone locked down.’ Titus’s voice was tired. He ran a hand across his sweating forehead. ‘No one gave much trouble,’ he went on. ‘The fight has been knocked out of them.’
‘Good, good.’ Balbus nodded. ‘What’s the damage?’
The older Roman sighed. ‘Three dead, sixteen in the infirmary with Quintus. A healthy brawl indeed, lanista.’
‘But it could have been much worse.’ Lucius Balbus was feeling much more himself after the initial shock of the riot had worn off. ‘The ringleaders?’
‘Lysandra and Sorina.’ Titus sat down. ‘Who else?’ The question was rhetorical. The trainer paused, and Balbus could tell he was about to receive some advice from the veteran. ‘ Lanista,’ Titus said at length. ‘I’ve noticed that the women have become separate from each other in a way that I’ve never seen before.’
‘Yes.’ Balbus decided to share his plans with him. ‘I know. I’ve allowed this to happen — in fact I positively encourage it to continue.’ He could tell that he had shocked Titus and took a moment to savour the reaction. Titus was a good man, but his self-perceived older and wiser head sometimes made him forget just who knew best. An excellent trainer he may be, but Lucius Balbus was lanista.
Titus cleared his throat. ‘Are you sure that’s wise? The situation can only worsen.’
Eros arrived with wine for the two men, and winked at Titus suggestively; Balbus had to suppress a grin. He knew that the trainer loathed the boy, whom he referred to as ‘that mincing catamite.’ He dismissed the slave, however, as he wanted Titus’s full attention. ‘Things are going to change around here,’ he said.
‘If we play this right, we could be stinking rich. All of us,’ he added meaningfully. ‘I’ve been approached by the governor to organise a spectacle. A spectacle the like of which has never been seen outside of Rome.’
‘I’ve heard that sort of claim before,’ Titus said, the jaded ‘voice of experience’ grating with Balbus somewhat.
‘Not like this.’ Balbus allowed himself to be smug. He went on to relate the details of his conversation with Frontinus and Aeschylus regarding the grand battle they had envisaged for Domitian’s birthday. When he was finished, he could see that Titus was suitably impressed. ‘This is why I have allowed the Greek and Roman women to form their faction around Lysandra. If she is to lead them in battle, it is good that they are gravitating towards her.’
‘But you’ve not told her of your plans yet?’ Titus grunted.
‘Not yet, but today’s little spat means I will have to hurry matters along. You all know that we’re expanding the ludus. My plan is to move the Greeks and the others to the new wing and let them train as one group there. I’ll be importing as many slaves as I can get my hands on — and that Frontinus’s money can buy — as quickly as I can.’
‘Makes sense,’ Titus agreed. ‘Who will be training this ‘army’ of Lysandra’s?’
Balbus grinned. ‘She will. But I’d imagine she’ll need some help, Titus. You’re the man they call the Centurion after all.
Look…’ He leaned forward. ‘You can help her… and by helping her, you’ll be helping me. When all this is over, you’ll have a huge reputation and you’ll be as rich as Croesus — the world will be at your feet. Everybody wins.’
‘Not everybody,’ Titus said. ‘There will be many dead after this, Balbus.’
Balbus thought that the sentiment had merit. But money bought toughness. In the end, arena fighters got killed, a fact he elucidated to the trainer. ‘That, Titus, is the name of the game.’
‘And in the meantime?’
‘In the meantime, it’s business as usual. I want Lysandra out there and fighting. I want maximum public exposure. Falco will have to work his balls off for the next two years.’ Balbus considered that the promoter would relish the prospect. ‘Keep the women segregated as much as possible, till I can move the Greeks to the new wing. Once they are out of here, things will return to normal.’
‘I’ll drink to that.’ Titus raised his cup.
XL
Lysandra’s respect for Lucius Balbus’s judgement increased when he told her of his plans. The lanista was correct in his assessment that she was the ideal person to lead and train an army. Now, she knew, Athene’s plan for her was revealed. All her training, her excellence in combat and her understanding of matters military had led her to this task.
Though excited, she had relayed the news calmly to her women and they had received it with an equanimity that was worthy of their association with her. Even Danae, who once had quailed at the prospect of blood, seemed inspired. The Athenian bore a livid scar from her encounter with Sorina and she burned for revenge.
‘Any chance to rid the earth of their filth is to be welcomed,’ she told Lysandra. ‘These barbarians grow arrogant in their success on the sands. It is for us to cull their number.’
