was well used to the sight of blood, the carnage that had taken place in the cell was sickening. Nastasen’s body had been butchered with barbaric ferocity.
‘He had it coming,’ Stick said, crouching by the mutilated corpse. ‘It’s not like anyone is going to be weeping at his loss.’
‘That’s not the point, Stick.’ Balbus was more resigned than annoyed. ‘We can’t have this sort of thing.’
‘Who do you think did it?’ asked Catuvolcos.
Stick turned about and got to his feet. Unflappable as ever, the scrawny Parthian spat on the floor. ‘Look at the state of him!
It doesn’t take Archimedes to work it out. Obviously our Spartan decided to end her bout with the bastard ahead of schedule.’
‘Lysandra wouldn’t do such a thing!’ Catuvolcos protested.
‘No?’ Balbus broke in. ‘We all know what he did to her. Gods on Olympus, if anyone deserved to die in such a way, it was Nastasen.’
‘That’s what I mean,’ Catuvolcos said thoughtfully. ‘If Lysandra was going to do away with him, she would not act in such a frenzied way. You know what she’s like,’ he went on. ‘She would have just stuck her blade in him and left.’
‘Who knows how she thinks,’ Balbus muttered. ‘Of course, Attalus doesn’t remember a thing. One moment he was watching the door, the next,’ he snapped his fingers, ‘he was out like a candle. I should have him whipped for dereliction of duty, but I can’t help but think we are well rid of Nastasen.’ That was the truth, he thought to himself. Though he had given in to Lysandra’s wishes, he could not help but be relieved that the fight she wanted so desperately could not now take place. Despite her assurances, in his heart he believed that she would have been hard pressed to match the black giant.
He turned to the guards who were lurking in the corridor beyond. ‘Clean this shit up and have it burned. You two.’ He indicated Stick and Catuvolcos, ‘We must at least question Lysandra.
I cannot have her thinking she can just murder someone and get away with it. Bad for discipline,’ he added.
In the early hours, Lysandra had finally fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep. Her slumber was broken when the door to her cell crashed open. Furious, she snapped into full wakefulness, her eyes focusing on the shocked faces of Stick, Catuvolcos and Balbus, all crammed into her doorway.
‘What is the meaning of this!’ she shouted. ‘Am I an animal to be gawped at while sleeping?’ She broke off. ‘Why am I all wet?’ Even as she spoke, Lysandra lifted up her arms, which to her felt damp and tacky.
They were slick with blood. Stunned, her eyes lowered to see her blanket soaked crimson. And there, staring at her, its tongue horribly swollen and protruding was the severed head of Nastasen.
Horrified, she screamed and leapt from the bed, throwing herself as far away from the ghastly trophy as the confines of the cell would allow. The head rolled obscenely from the cot, its strange wiry hair tangling about it.
Lysandra screamed again, her eyes wide with terror.
‘Get her out of here!’ Balbus shouted.
Catuvolcos rushed forwards and shepherded the blood-mired gladiatrix from the room.
LII
Lysandra was sickened. That she was used to killing, accustomed to the sight of a body falling at her feet, could not have prepared her for the shock of seeing the disembodied head staring at her, almost accusing. That she had reacted so in public also galled her. She should have shown more control, she berated herself, but the queasy feeling in her gut would not abate, nor would the shaking of her bloody hands.
Catuvolcos had been the soul of concern, leading her to the bathhouse where he sluiced her down with warm water from the pool.
‘I am quite fine, Catuvolcos,’ she told him. ‘You are being a mother hen. It was merely a shock that is all.’
His reddish eyebrows furrowed as he peered at her. ‘You are all right?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she snapped, the lie making the response harsher than she intended. ‘I have already told you so.’
Catuvolcos handed her a tunic. ‘You didn’t do this?’
Lysandra’s eyes blazed as she prepared to launch into a tirade against the trainer, but she held her tongue. She suddenly realised how the situation must look. ‘No, I did not.’ She forced her temper in. ‘Though I can imagine that it is thought that I did.’
‘Balbus assumed so. I spoke in your defence, though,’ he added.
‘As well you might. Such a barbarity is beneath me, Catuvolcos.
I would not stoop to murder in the dark. My bout with the Nubian meant too much to me to end it by assassination…’ she stopped suddenly, her face flushing red.
‘Lysandra…’
‘That bitch!’ The hissed exclamation was laced with rage and hatred. ‘That conniving, gutless bitch!’
‘What are you talking about?’ Catuvolcos’s voice bounced around the walls of the bathhouse.
‘Sorina,’ Lysandra raged, beginning to pace up and down. ‘It all makes sense. She knew how much this bout meant to me. She knew it! Damn that woman. Damn her to Hades!’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It is all so clear! This is why she trained with him, Catuvolcos, do you not see? She did so to gain his trust, so that she might approach him with ease! She has robbed me of my revenge.’ Tears welled up in her eyes. Furious, she wiped them away, her cheeks burning. That she recognised Sorina had played her own mind game against her did not lessen the ploy’s success. How could she have known? ‘I’m going to have this out with her!’ she stormed, making to move past Catuvolcos, but he pushed her back. ‘Get out of my way!’ she demanded. ‘Or I will move you myself.’
‘Lysandra!’ He used the trainer’s voice, the voice of instruction and, for a moment, it gave her pause. Years of ingrained obedience did their work. ‘Think about what you are doing. If you go and confront her now, awry and with tears on your face, she will know she has gotten to you! Think, girl!’ He smacked his palm to the side of his head. ‘Will you let her win so easily?’
‘But Nastasen was mine, my tool to beat her,’ Lysandra almost wailed.
‘And she has taken it from you, as well she might!’ Catuvolcos face reddened. ‘You began the mind games with her and she has proven herself to be too canny for you. She is, by her own mouth, long in the tooth, Lysandra, and you are still a girl — to her,’ he amended quickly. ‘You are the one that speaks of tactics and cleverness in battle, are you not? Do you think it is good strategy to show your enemy that she has gained an advantage? That her ploy has worked?’
‘No, but this is different.’ Lysandra sniffed, and wiped her nose.
‘It is no different!’ he stormed. ‘No different. Why am I telling you this? You know these things. By confronting her now, you hand her advantage. Show her that her ploy has no effect on you.
Besides…’ He calmed somewhat. ‘You didn’t need Nastasen to defeat her, Lysandra. You have the beating of her, and she knows it.’
‘I am not sure. I thought that if I beat Nastasen, then I could easily defeat her. I am not sure that I can match her, Catuvolcos.
I have told this only to Varia. Nastasen’s death meant everything to me. Not only for what he did to me… but for what seeing me kill him would do to her. I needed to show her…’ Lysandra trailed off. ‘She is Gladiatrix Prima. I am afraid to lose.’
Catuvolcos blinked, seemingly shocked by her admission. ‘Look,’ he said heavily. ‘I know that your fight with Nastasen meant a lot to you. For many reasons. But they are gone now. He is dead, and he died hard, Lysandra. Believe me — I saw the body. Sorina may be driven by hatred of you, but she has no love for any violator of women. She cut him up badly — worse than you would have done, in fact. He went to his gods in agony.’
Lysandra compressed her lips for a moment. ‘He was mine to kill,’ she said quietly.
