The crowd roared as Libertine removed his helmet and looked to the emperor’s box to see the verdict. His adversary lay in the dust at his feet. The battle had been difficult; it had been an excellent match. But Arden’s trident had been no match for his double swords. He waited and hoped that his friend would be allowed to nurse his wounds and fight another day. But the emperor appeased the crowd, and with one well-aimed strike; Libertine stilled the heart of his fallen friend.
As Libertine strode out of the arena, his master collected his purse. He watched with a raised eyebrow as he greedily counted the money. “Soon,” he reminded himself, “Soon I will earn my freedom.” He washed the dust from his face and waited for his master.
“Libertine,” he whispered, “Your presence has been requested by the emperor’s advisor. We are going as soon as the games are finished. You are wanted at the palace. I have a girl waiting to get you cleaned up.” Libertine raised an eyebrow. He had been invited to some aristocratic households before; he had done some fighting for a party’s entertainment. He had even been summoned once or twice to bed a lovely and rich woman who wasn’t afraid to pay for her pleasure.
He doubted that he was being summoned for either purpose. There was no telling with Emperor Quirinus. If the rumors were to be believed, he was mad. Libertine had heard many stories about the emperor’s strange behavior. His wife, the love of his youth, had died last summer. People said he had mourned her as no man had mourned a lover before. Others said this mourning was because he had no heir. By the autumn, Quirinus has taken a new bride. Her name was Cardea. The young woman was the daughter of Quirinus’ closest advisor and many viewed the marriage as one of manipulation on the part of the girl’s father. Libertine had seen her many times. She was seated next to her husband and what had drawn Libertine’s attention was that she had once pleaded for a gladiator’s life. Everyone in the arena who could see them could tell the emperor was displeased with her, but she begged him. Libertine had to admire that courage. Very few people stood up to Quirinus and lived to tell about it.
He went to his quarters and just as his master promised there was a woman there to get him ready. She bathed his sore muscles, her expert fingers working out the tired and sore spots. She tended his wounds, mostly scratches. He looked her over as she offered him a clean tunic. She was attractive enough, but he was too curious about what might lay in store for him at the palace to placate his lust in the squalor of his cell.
In the dark of night he followed his master. He had not roamed freely since his boyhood and no longer knew the city. He took in every sight and smell. The sounds of the city streets were more overwhelming than that of the roaring crowd. The arena’s crowd was one massive voice; in the streets there were snippets of a thousand conversations floating by him. When they reached the palace a guard ushered them to a side entrance. The emperor’s advisor met them there. He was a tall, gaunt man and his expression was somber.
“Young man, I am about to take you in to the Emperor. He is going to make a request of you. People do not survive a refusal of Quirinus.” Libertine nodded his assent and wondered if this man thought him a fool. He was led into the room and immediately dropped to his knee, head lowered. His master stood in the shadows and nodded his approval.
“My champion, Libertine, I am so pleased to see you this evening.” Quirinus was just a few feet away from him. His hand wrapped around a deep goblet of wine, his gray hair wild around his head. “I ask a favor of you, a favor that only you can perform. I have looked at all of the men in the empire and it is you that I have chosen.” He motioned for Libertine to stand. The gladiator straightened and Quirinus eyed him up and down as if he were a horse to be bought or bartered for. “Yes, he is perfect. Tell him what he must do.” Then Quirinus rushed from the room snickering.
Libertine turned and looked at his master and the advisor. The advisor addressed them nervously.
“The Empress has yet to conceive a son. If she does not soon, the Emperor is talking of finding another more pleasing wife. My daughter’s life depends on having a son and the Emperor has been unable to consummate this marriage. “ His voice was hushed and frenzied. “The emperor wants you to bed his wife and conceive a child with her. You are his prized dimacheri and he believes the gods have told him that you are the man to do this. It was the purpose of today’s match. He was choosing between you and the other gladiator.”
Libertine’s master negotiated a fee as Libertine’s mind raced. This was unbelievable; a man had died today because the emperor was impotent? He reasoned with himself that men had died because the emperor was in a foul mood and that wasn’t any better reason.
“What of the girl? Does she agree this is the will of Quirinus’ gods?” The advisor eyed him coolly.
“The girl, is your Empress and she wants to live, so she will be … amenable.”
Libertine was escorted to a sumptuous chamber, his escort opened the massive door and then he was left inside alone. The air was scented with the mixture of florals and spices he imagined when he conjured the image of his aristocratic lover. Clean, feminine and unlike anything he had smelled before or since. The light was soft. In the center of the room was a carafe of wine and cushions covered in hues of plum, scarlet and gold. He sighed and poured some wine into a goblet worth far more than all of purses in a year.
He looked up when he heard her bare feet on the stone floor. She really was as lovely as men had said. She was young for Quirinus, but a woman in her own right. She was not just a girl as she appeared from her box in the arena. Her slender form was wrapped in a sheath of soft shimmering fabric. Her dark hair and dark eyes were striking against her fair skin. He smirked.
“Quirinus must be half dead to not be able to bed you.” He uttered half out of nervousness but also because he wanted to put her at ease and the women he had bedded before had always seemed to respond to flattery. She flinched and put her finger to her lips.
“The Emperor is watching. I can feel his eyes on me. “ She whispered as she sat beside him primly. “ I am Cardea, Libertine. I am sorry your friend died today. My father said you had trained together since you were boys.” He nodded and watched her face. Her eyes were soft with compassion but he could sense her fear. That was a skill that had kept him alive, when he sensed fear clutch his opponent he would unleash his most ferocious assault. He had never had to lie in the dust and pray that he would receive mercy. The fear of others had kept him victorious. Making warriors feel that fear made him feel powerful but he didn’t like the feeling of knowing that she was afraid of him. He poured her a generous glass of wine.
“Drink this and steady your nerve. There is no need to be afraid of me, little one. This is beyond the control of both of us. Our fates have been decided. I will not hurt you and we will both gain the promise of one more day on this earth.” Libertine was a slave and used to not having control. He told the lovely empress this. She nodded and drank her wine. He watched her cheeks flush. She really was lovely. He admired the soft curves of her breasts, her feminine fair skin. She looked too fine for his scarred and rough hands.
