Gladiatrix (24 page)

Clever Alexander indeed. No submissive slave here, grateful for any chance at freedom.

‘Fine.' I needed convincing as well. ‘Now, tell me why I should trust you.'

He said, with biting contempt, ‘I have no choice.'

‘That's not good enough, Alexander. What other assurances can you give me?' I watched his expression. ‘If I tell you everything, then it'll give you a weapon to use against me. You might try to barter for your freedom with my enemies.'

‘You know I'll do anything to get my freedom. So put a condition in my manumission papers that if you die before me I will not go free.'

‘Not good enough,' I shook my head. ‘I have a better plan.' I handed him the documents Valerius had drawn up. ‘Here's a copy of the material I lodged with my business manager this morning.'

Alexander had been able to read Philemon's script last night, and sure enough he moved through the legal prose quickly. He was too well educated for a slave gladiator. I wanted to ask how it was that he was so literate, but wasn't sure I wanted to hear about the early part of his life.

He got to the last condition, and eyed me with distrust.

‘Yep. That's right.' I smiled. ‘It stipulates that if I die as a result of your actions, or even your omissions, you die. Valerius has full power to ensure that it's enforced. No-one can save you, no matter what they may promise.'

I wanted to make sure he understood that Domitia couldn't help him. If he was a spy this might help
him change his allegiance. ‘Only Augustus can break this document, and you know his attitude to slaves. He hates freeing them. He thinks it is not good to have too many ex-slaves walking around. It gives the others too many ideas.'

Alexander got up and paced around the room, trying to work off the tension. But as my legal slave what choice did he really have?

‘Do I tear up the documents?'

He came to a stop next to the window, scanning the documents in his hand one more time. Still looking down, he shook his head, ‘No.' At that decision he turned on his heel and came back to the chair. ‘No, leave them. I'll do it.' He handed the documents back.

It was impossible to read him. He'd retreated back behind his usual aggressive mask. It made me even more ambivalent about keeping him so close. He was not going to be easy to control. Most of the time he was this big, simmering ball of rage.

Well, with Victoria out there, in trouble, that made two of us.

He faced me dead on. ‘So, now it's your turn. What's this all about?'

Watching him carefully I said, ‘A woman disappeared two days ago, she was probably abducted. She was the original Bellona. I've taken her place here because I think Domitia can help me find her.'

He snorted. ‘That explains it.'

‘Explains what?' I didn't like his patronising tone.

Contempt dripping from each word, he said, ‘You're too young to be Bellona. She's supposed to be a middle-aged woman. You're only a kid.'

I was dumbfounded.

‘Yeah, I know you're tall,' he said when he saw my reaction. ‘And you have the talent.' He stopped for a
second, then said, ‘And the attitude for a gladiatrix.' He shook his head, ‘But your baby face gives you away.'

The burst of direct and detailed communication stunned me. He'd been studying me, trying to work out my story all along. Suddenly, I was very glad I'd decided to make a deal with him.

‘So you're looking for the real Bellona?'

‘Bellona's her professional name. Her real name is Victoria. And I think she's been abducted by the Hierophant.' Might as well come clean. I didn't have all day to brief him.

‘The Hierophant? Ah, now I see where Crassus fits in. You want to use the initiation to find him.'

Shock. ‘You know an awful lot about my business,' I challenged.

‘We slaves,' he said, biting each word on its way out, ‘spend a lot of time researching our …' He spat the next word, ‘Owners.' Contempt oozed out of every pore. ‘How else do you think we survive? Why do you think Horace does his job so well?' Contempt changed to cynicism. ‘Or haven't you even noticed? He tries to make the rest of our lives better by keeping Domitia — as you call her — under control.'

I kept silent. Felt ashamed.

I legally owned this man, and I was using him in full knowledge of the evils of this system. However briefly, however unwillingly, I was a part of this injustice.

He saw my shame, then asked in a marginally less aggressive voice, ‘So why do you think it was the Hierophant who took her?'

‘Victoria stole a precious dagger from him. Then her apartment was ransacked.'

‘So she's a thief?' He made the last word a dirty one.

‘No.' This was getting complicated. ‘Yes.'

He could see I was keeping something back. ‘Tell me everything. If you die — I'm gone too. So you might as well.'

It was my turn to think. What should I say? If he was really going to help me, really act as back-up, he'd see the gun. And most likely see me use it. He'd see me use the phactor as well. And I didn't know enough about this world. I needed to be able to ask basic questions that everyone else would take for granted. He could be of real use. If I could get him on my side.

The risk was, if I told him everything, I mean really everything, could he use it against me?

Nah. If he told anyone, they wouldn't believe him anyway.

That decided it.

There wasn't much point in explaining anything in detail until he was actually convinced I was from the future. How to do that? I looked down at the shoulder bag next to my chair. ‘Alexander.'

He'd been watching me work through what to say, and how. ‘Go on,' he said. ‘Just tell me.'

‘You're going to need proof of what I have to say. Because you won't believe me. But just listen, hear me through, and then I'll give you proof.'

Impatience emanated from him like a beacon. ‘Just get to the point.'

‘I'm not from Rome …' I started.

He gave a crack of laughter, sharp with derision. ‘We can all see that!'

‘Oh?' This conversation was not going the way I'd planned.

‘You have absolutely no idea of the accepted way to treat people. At all. Or speak. Or dress. You're like a wild thing.'

‘Well.' I blinked rapidly, taking that in. ‘There's a reason why I'm different.'

The reply was very casual. ‘Yes?'

‘I'm not from this time.'

He thought he'd misheard me. ‘This time?'

‘You heard me. I'm not from this place. And I'm not from this time.'

His face went into shutdown. Like he was dealing with some crazy person who needed humouring.

‘I'm from the future.' I let that hang there for few seconds, so I knew he'd really heard me. ‘Two thousand years in the future.' Might as well get it out.

He reverted to scorn, ‘You're right. I don't believe you!'

I sighed. Well what did I expect? I sounded like an actor from a bad horror movie. But then I didn't know a better way to say it.

‘That's what I said you'd say. Remember? And I promised I'd give you proof. So here it is.' I pulled out the phactor, set it up, then walked around the room recording footage. I ended with a shot of Alexander staring up at me with a mixture of confusion and wariness. I don't think he experienced that first feeling very often.

I sat down again, and turned the screen towards him. ‘Look.' I replayed it.

He flinched back in his seat as the images began moving, then leant forward to watch, almost greedily.

Yeah, he was all gladiator. Show no fear and don't step away from a challenge. ‘This silver box. It's what you were studying last night. What is it?'

So he'd been watching me?

‘It's called a phactor. Among other things it can record images.' I was trying to stick to words that would translate into Latin. ‘My time has specialised
in producing tools that serve our needs. We have special …' I started searching for the right word. ‘Machines, instruments, complex tools.'

He gave me a narrow look. ‘Most Romans would think this is witchcraft.'

‘But you don't?' He certainly wasn't shaking in his sandals. He seemed curious, more than anything else.

‘I'm not Roman.' The last word came out as an insult. ‘They quake and shiver at the slightest excuse. But me …' He stuck his thumb into his breastbone. ‘I don't believe in anything I can't see or touch.'

He gave me a cynical look. ‘There's always a reason for everything. No matter what the priests try to tell you. And I still don't believe you're from the future, but …' His eyes slid back to the phactor. His own face was frozen on the screen.

‘I can show you more?' I offered the phactor.

He didn't hesitate. ‘Show me how to do what you just did.'

I smiled to myself. He couldn't resist a challenge, so I had him. He didn't believe me yet, but he'd fall on his sword before he'd show any fear.

The phactor was dead easy to use. I gave him some basic instructions. What to press and when. How to make sure the camera aperture was pointed in the right direction. It didn't take long before he was walking around the room recording for himself. He almost fell headfirst over a stool, because he was too busy watching the recording screen. He came back and sat down. I replayed what he'd recorded down to the last part where the room appeared to turn on its side.

‘Where did you get this?' He tapped the phactor.

‘I told you, the future.'

He shook his head. But now he was ravenous for more details. ‘Show me more proof.' Yep, I'd hooked him. ‘What else have you got?'

I thought for a second, I had to impress him quickly, get him onside, but not freak him out entirely. I opened another file and pressed.

The opening notes of a piece of classical music boomed out.

This time Alexander really jerked away, just catching his own reaction in time to stop from jumping up.

It was Pachelbel's ‘Canon'. The string section glided and soared, filling the room and beyond.

Pretty good speakers for such a little thing. I turned the volume down, but let it play for a full minute.

‘What in …?' He turned the phactor upside down, trying to work out how I could be playing it without touching it.

‘Starting to believe me, hmm?'

Alexander didn't like my question, instead he said, ‘What else have you got? I want more proof than this one little box.'

I could appreciate the acquisitive gleam in his eye. Apart from anything else he wanted to know exactly what I had access to. Smart boy.

If triple-headed space creatures had landed on my deck at home, ready to make me a deal, I don't know whether I would've taken it so well no matter what they showed me. But then I was offering Alexander the one thing he wanted above all, the holy grail he'd worked his whole miserable life to achieve — his freedom. I couldn't tell whether he was just humouring me until he could find a way to make this all work to his advantage. Or maybe he was prepared to do anything, accept anything, for the only chance he had.

Only time would tell, and I'd watch him like a hawk until I knew the answer.

I didn't really want to demonstrate the gun and waste bullets. But I needed him on my side and ready for anything. So I pulled out the Glock. He immediately reached out a hand.

‘Uh ah. No.' Holding the gun away. ‘You don't touch this one.'

That of course forced his interest higher. ‘What is it?' The metallic sheen, the refined components, the design sophistication. It certainly didn't remotely resemble anything this time had to offer.

‘This morning you saw my fighting style is different?'

He was straight onto the implication. ‘It's a weapon.'

‘That's right. We have very different weapons in the future too.' I turned the Glock around for him. ‘This is called a gun. It shoots projectiles with enough force down this barrel,' I slid my fingers along to show the route, ‘to blow a hole in whatever it's pointed at.'

He wasn't impressed. I patted the Glock. ‘This model could drop a charging bull.' I smiled. ‘As long as you hit the right spot, that is.'

‘A bull, eh?' That had him. ‘Show me.'

Of course he'd find the weapon the most interesting of all. And the most convincing.

‘I only have fifteen bullets in all.' I pulled out the magazine and showed him. He wasn't impressed by the size of the individual bullets, but I wasn't about to explain how it worked when it reached the target. He'd see for himself soon enough. ‘I'll only do this once. Just to convince you.'

‘These boo-lets are tiny missiles?' The word ‘bullet' couldn't be translated, so he must be hearing the English word.

‘Yes. The gun mechanism propels them down the barrel, and into the target.' I pushed the magazine back in. ‘Like I said, I'm only doing this once. So watch carefully.'

What to use as a target? I needed something that could really illustrate … Hmm. I knocked on the internal wall. My bedroom was separated from the next room by a heavy wooden partition. Would Domitia notice if I blew a hole in her wall?

I positioned Alexander so he could see me use the gun side-on, then aimed for the partition.

Booomm!

A cloud of wood fragments and dust, and there was a big hole right through the wall. Alexander didn't have his mouth hanging open, but he looked like he wanted to. We both went over to the wall.

Alexander poked his fist through it, then pulled back to look at the gun. He started laughing. What a boy. A cool new weapon to play with. He thought it was great.

Then I realised I'd never even seen him smile before. He looked younger. Alive.

‘Convinced?'

‘I give in.' He put up his hands in the traditional sign of surrender. ‘I'll accept your story,' he said. ‘For the moment.' He was honest.