you that you will raise that rock another dozen times this hour and you will hold it. And another dozen if you let one fall below a hand’s width.’
A slave girl was washing dust from a wall at the side of the courtyard. She never looked at the boys, though occasionally she jumped slightly as the old gladiator barked a command. Gaius saw she looked exhausted herself, but he had noticed she was attractive, with long dark hair and a loose slave shift. Her face was delicate, with a pair of dark eyes and a full mouth pressed into a line by the concentration of her work. He thought her name was Alexandria.
As Renius spoke, she bent low to dip the cloth in the bucket and paused to wash the dirt from the material. Her shift gaped as she pressed the cloth into the water and Gaius could see the smooth skin of her neck running down to the soft curves of her breasts. He thought he could see right down to the skin of her stomach and imagined her nipples gently grazing against the rough cloth as she moved.
In that moment, Renius was forgotten, despite the pain in his arms.
The old man stopped speaking and turned on his heel to see what was distracting the boys from their lesson. He growled as he saw the slave and crossed to her with three quick strides, taking her arm in a cruel grip that made her cry out. His voice was a bellow.
‘I am teaching these children a lesson that will save their lives and you are flashing your paps at them like a cheap whore!’
The girl cowered from his anger, pulling as far as she could reach from the held wrist.
‘I …’ she stammered, seeming dazed, but Renius swore and took her by the hair. She winced in pain and he swung her to face the boys.
‘I don’t care if there are a thousand of these behind my back. I am teaching you to concentrate!’
In one brutal move, he flicked her legs away with a sweep of his foot and she fell. Still holding her hair, Renius raised his whip in his other hand and brought it down sharply, in sequence with his words.
‘You will not distract these boys while I teach.’
The girl was crying as Renius let her go. She crawled a couple of paces, then came up to a crouch and ran from the yard, sobbing.
Marcus and Gaius looked dumbfounded at Renius as he turned back to them. His expression was murderous.
‘Close your mouths, boys. This was never a game. I will make you good enough and hard enough to serve the Republic after I am gone. I will not allow weakness of any kind. Now raise the stones and hold them until I say to cease.’
Once again, the boys raised their arms, not even daring to exchange glances.
That evening, when the estate was quiet and Renius had departed for the city, Gaius delayed his usual exhausted collapse into sleep to visit the slave quarters. He felt guilty being there and kept an eye out for Tubruk’s shadow, though he couldn’t quite have explained why.
The household slaves slept under the same roof as the family, in a wing of simple rooms. It was not a world he knew and he felt nervous as he walked along the darkening corridors, wondering whether he should knock at doors, or call her name, if it really was Alexandria.
He found her sitting on a low ledge outside an open door. She seemed lost in thought and he cleared his throat gently as he recognised her. She scrambled to her feet in fright and then held herself still, looking at the floor. She had cleaned the dust of the day from her skin and it was smooth and pale in the evening light. Her hair was tied back with a scrap of cloth and her eyes were wide with darkness.
‘Is your name Alexandria?’ he said quietly.
She nodded.
‘I came to say sorry for today. I was watching you at your chores and Renius thought you were distracting us.’
She stood perfectly still in front of him and kept her gaze on the floor at his feet. The silence stretched for a moment and he blushed, unsure how to continue.
‘Look, I am sorry. He was cruel.’
Still, she said nothing. Her thoughts were pained, but this was the son of the house. ‘I am a slave,’ she longed to say. ‘Every day is pain and humiliation. You have nothing to say to me.’
Gaius waited for a few more moments and then walked away, wishing he hadn’t come.
Alexandria watched him leave, watched the confident walk and the developing strength that Renius was bringing out. He would be as vicious as that old gladiator when he was older. He was free and Roman. His compassion came from his youth and that was fast being burned away in the training yard. Her face was hot with the anger she had not dared show. It was a small victory not to have talked to him, but she cherished it.
Renius reported their progress at the end of each quarter-year. On the evening before the appointed day, Gaius’ father would return from his lodgings in the capital and receive Tubruk’s summary of the estate’s wealth. He would see the boys and spend a few minutes extra with his son. The following day, he would see Renius at dawn and the boys would sleep in, grateful for the slight break in their routine.
The first report had been frustratingly short.
‘They have made a beginning. Both have some spirit,’ Renius had stated flatly.
After a long pause, Julius realised that there was to be no further comment.
‘They are obedient?’ he asked, wondering at the lack of information. For this he’d paid so much gold?
‘Of course,’ Renius replied, his expression baffled.
‘They er … they show promise?’ Julius battled on, refusing to allow this conversation to go the way of the last one, but again feeling as if he addressed one of his old tutors instead of a man in his employ.
‘A beginning has been made. This work is not accomplished quickly.’
‘Nothing of value ever is,’ Julius replied quietly.
They looked at each other calmly for a moment and both nodded. The interview was at an end. The old warrior shook hands with a brief touch of dry skin in a quick, hard grip and left. Julius remained standing, gazing at the door that closed behind his exit.
Tubruk thought the training methods were dangerous and had mentioned an incident where the boys could have drowned without supervision. Julius grimaced. He knew that to mention the worry to Renius would be to sever their agreement. Preventing the old murderer from going too far would rest with the estate manager.
Sighing, he sat down and thought about the problems he faced in Rome. Cornelius Sulla had continued to rise in power, bringing some towns in the south of the country into the Roman fold and away from their merchant controllers. What was the name of that last? Pompeii, some sort of mountain town. Sulla kept his name in the mind of the vacuous public with such small triumphs. He commanded a group of senators with a web of lies, bribery and flattery. They were all young and brought a shudder to the old soldier as he thought of some of them. If this was what Rome was coming to, in his lifetime!
Instead of taking the business of empire seriously, they seemed to live only for sordid pleasures of the most dubious kinds, worshipping at the temple of Aphrodite and calling themselves the ‘New Romans’. There were few things that still
