She thrust the chain away, bitter frustration welling up within her. That she chose to die was testament that she must live on.
The Spartan way demanded such sacrifice.
XXXI
This, Balbus, decided, was the life.
Certainly, he himself lived in the manner of a cultured and wealthy man, but the opulence of Frontinus’s house was exquisite; all was perfection. And that he, Lucius Balbus, sat at the governor’s table was evidence of the New Man Made Good. In the modern world, hard work and diligence could bring a man to great heights.
Fat Aeschylus was there as well, basking in the success of the games that his money had paid for. Well, more power to him, Balbus thought. Should his campaign for election to aedile be successful, the Greek would not forget that it was Balbus who made his show a success. He raised his cup to the corpulent demagogue who responded in kind.
‘Your troupe has gained renown, Lucius Balbus.’ Aeschylus smiled at the lanista. ‘A most impressive show. You have brought the women’s game to new heights.’
Balbus nodded gracefully at the compliment and returned with one of his own. ‘There would have been no stage for my gladiatrices had you not provided the arena, good Aeschylus.’
‘So what now for you, lanista?’ the Greek asked.
Balbus shrugged. ‘The loss of Britannica is costly. She was a great favourite with the crowd. But my new girl, Achillia, is proving to be most popular.’
‘Indeed, yes,’ Frontinus broke in enthusiastically. ‘An excellent fighter and she is delightful company.’
Balbus smiled in acquiescence. Evidently, Lysandra had made an impression on the governor. ‘I hope to build on her popularity in the future. She is a rare find and I think she can surpass Sorina and Eirianwen in the esteem of the people. For one thing, she is not a barbarian.’ This small comment produced a polite scattering of laughter from the notables.
‘I agree.’ Frontinus set his drink down. ‘But I think that a better vehicle can be found for Achillia than the norm. Whist the one-to-one battles are entertaining, the mob is ever fickle. I think we — and I include the noble Aeschylus — can come up with a spectacle that they shall marvel at even in Rome. Thus, I have a proposition for you, Balbus.’
‘Oh?’ Balbus suddenly felt as though he were a mouse under the gaze of two hungry cobras. The problem with being entertained by the height of society, he thought to himself, meant that they could make demands that it would be impolitic to refuse.
‘Thanks to your ludus,’ Frontinus said, ‘the women’s game has enjoyed a surge in popularity. Your fighters have elevated these combats from mere sideshow to something worth getting excited about. But as I have said, the mob is capricious. It is my intention, therefore, to provide an event as yet unheard of.’ He paused, the natural politician, allowing anticipation to build. ‘A gregatim composed solely of women.’
Balbus was relieved. The gregatim, the combats involving teams of gladiators, were little different to the single combats, save for the mortality rate. However, with his recent windfall, this was something he could wear. ‘In that, noble governor, I can facili-tate you,’ he glanced surreptitiously at Aeschylus, ‘with no need for other contractors.’ Truth be told, Balbus was still stung by the Greek’s idea to use schools other than his own for the last spectacle. ‘I do have over a hundred women, after all.’
Frontinus flicked a glance towards Aeschylus before continuing. ‘I am talking on a grand scale, Balbus. A true battle, on such a scale that people will talk of it in the same breath as they speak of the naumachia of the Divine Claudius.’
Balbus nearly choked on his wine. ‘But governor! Claudius’s naval battle had over nineteen thousand convicts…’ he trailed off, aware that governor and soon to be aedile were serious. He cleared his throat. ‘Exactly what sort of numbers are we talking, Excellency?’
Frontinus gave a dismissive wave. ‘Not that many, of course.
But let me first tell you what I have in mind. Domitian will be visiting the province the year after next. This visit coincides with the fifth anniversary of his ascension to the purple… and his birthday. I have it on good authority that our Emperor too enjoys watching female combatants and I can see no better way of thanking him for the honour of his presence than by staging this grandest of events for his entertainment.’ Frontinus leant forwards, evidently enthused. ‘Your Achillia gave me this idea.
You know the girl is well versed in military tactics, due to her youth in the Spartan agoge.’
Balbus nodded, silently thanking the priest Telemachus for enlightening him all those months ago.
‘She is perfect to lead an army of female warriors, Balbus. My plan is to recreate the mythical battle between the Athenians and the Amazons. On the one side, Achillia with her Greeks, the other, a barbarian horde! Think of it, Balbus. We could take the games out of the arena, and make an arena of the landscape instead — just as old Claudius did.’
The idea had merit, Balbus conceded to himself, and it was not unprecedented. But the cost of such a venture was too prohibitive to be practical. He said as much to the governor.
Frontinus was not to be dissuaded, however.
‘Money is not an object to art,’ he said. ‘We, Aeschylus and I, can aid you in the purchasing and upkeep of the slaves. It will be up to you to ensure they are trained and ready to fight when the Emperor comes. It will make you the owner of the largest troupe in the Empire. At least for a time.’
Of course, Balbus thought. At the end of the slaughter, there would be few left alive. Leaving Balbus with a much expanded but empty ludus. ‘I am honoured you think me capable of this task. If I may be so bold, I can see two problems. Firstly, Achillia must continue to fight. Her reputation must be such that the people will want to see her head such an army. In this there is risk — she may, after all, be killed. Secondly, and I dislike admitting it, but it is true: no one ludus could support so many slaves.
Indeed, if we were to place two rival ‘armies’ in close proximity, the likelihood is that the war would begin not of our volition.
And then we would have a problem.’
Frontinus nodded. ‘If Achillia is killed, we shall continue regardless — the crowd loves blood. But you could be right on your second point. What would you suggest?’
Balbus gritted his teeth. ‘I would suggest splitting the contract, Excellency. Another ludus could handle your ‘Amazons’, whilst I set about finding and training your Greeks.’ It hurt to kiss half the deal away, but the overheads after the event could ruin him.
‘What sort of numbers are we talking, governor?’
Frontinus’s smile was wolfish. ‘Five thousand. On each side.’
Balbus forced himself not to baulk. ‘I can promise nothing at this stage, my Lord,’ he said. ‘I shall endeavour to find such a number, but the cost will be massive. And it is a matter of time, also. We have but two years to arrange such a thing — not long when we consider all that must be done. Also, I will not disgrace you, myself, or the Emperor by providing less than adequate stock for this spectacle.’ He was a professional and he had standards. It would not do to send half-dead criminals from the mines — the cheapest source of flesh on the market — onto the sands of the arena; he had a reputation to uphold. ‘Finding the right calibre of gladiatrix will not be quick, or easy. But I shall do my best.’
‘I have every faith in you, good Balbus.’ Though the governor smiled, the lanista realised that failure in this undertaking would not be acceptable.
Stick, Catuvolcos noted, was well past mellow as the evening wore on. Glancing ruefully at his beer, he realised that he was not far behind him. They staggered past the tables that had been arrayed for the surviving fighters, stopping to spread a few words here and there. Nastasen had declined to join them. The Nubian had met up with his coterie from the other ludi and they sat apart, filling their lungs with smoke from their cones of hemp.