悼亡(Theta)

一.

『為什麼你要這樣做?』露茜莉亞問我.
『因為我本就烈性如此,』我回答: 『看!』
『什麼?』
『看那個,』我指向那雄偉的維蘇威火山.『就像它一樣, 在我內心是一團無法熄滅的火焰. 我一直以來都想這樣做.』
『你不能等待我走了之後才這樣做嗎? 我的醫生告訴我: 我最多只能再活一年. 為什麼你要令我心碎?』
『就當我是一個自私的女人吧, 露茜莉亞. 但如果要我在我失去你和你失去我之間作出選擇, 我肯定會選擇後者. 你還不明白嗎? 只有當你仍在世, 我才可以做這件事. 我想你看到在角鬥場中的我, 看看人們如何為我歡呼, 看我如何戰鬥, 甚至看我如何死去. 如果你已不在, 我所作的一切都會變得毫無意義. 而且, 以你的地位和影響力, 你絕對可以為我安排一切, 為我選最適當的對手. 如果只由我自己進行, 我就只能聽天由命.』
『但你知道我是愛你的!』她從後把雙臂摟著我的腰, 把她的臉埋在我的頸與左肩之間.
『我也愛你, 露茜莉亞. 但我真的不想苟且偷生下去. 我可能沒有你那樣幸運, 找到另一個愛我的人.』
露茜莉亞比我大二十歲. 這沒有什麼大不了. 年齡差別只令我們之間的以更熱烈的激情去愛對方. 我們都知道假使沒有這病, 她也會有一天會早我而去. 我們從開始就決定要利用我們擁有的每一天去愛對方.

二.

她是在奴隸拍賣市場發現我的. 也許是我眼眸中那團火吸引了她. 在被羅馬人俘虜之前, 我是高盧族長的女兒, 是一名女戰士.  奴隸販子從羅馬士兵手中買下了我, 然後把我帶到公開市場叫價. 在這當中, 我不斷反抗他那毛手毛腳的要把我的胸脯和臀部向買家們展示.
『大家看看! 這是件難得的貨色呢, 蠻烈性子的, 在床上應該棒極了!』那人向潛在買家兜售. 『她甚至有些野蠻王族血統呢! 開價六十枚銀幣. 有沒有人出價?』
『七十枚銀幣.』
『八十.』
『一百.』
『一百五十.』
『一百.』是一個女人的聲音.
那人笑了. 『這女士, 叫價規矩是向上的, 不是倒過來.』
那女人也笑了. 『我當然知道, 我是說: 我出一百枚金幣.』
所有人都倒抽了一口氣.
『你開玩笑吧? 沒有人會為一個女奴付這個價錢. 你究竟是…』那人向婦人投以懷疑的目光.
『我從來都不開玩笑.』她向他展示她那刻有家紋的戒子.
那人的態度馬上由嘲弄轉成絕對尊敬.
『當然, 這位夫人. 她是您的.』
我被人牽著扣在頸環上的鐵索拉到那婦人前.
『你叫什麼名字?』
『埃普蓮娜.』
『我是露茜莉亞.』
『是的, 夫人.』我把目光投向地面. 我知道得到她成為我的女主人, 已是我最大彩數.』
『不, 是露茜莉亞, 單單露茜莉亞就可以了.』

三.
她在第一個晚上就和我同床共枕了. 她很溫柔, 對我百般呵護, 還顧及我的感受.
我原以為她只是對我的身體有興趣, 不需多久她就會對我生厭而棄如蔽履,  然後可能把我轉賣給另一個人而去找尋更新, 更年輕貌美的玩物.
但她沒有這樣做.
一直都是我, 在她的身邊, 在她的床上, 和在她的腦海中.
起初, 我對與一位和我年齡相距如此遠的女人溫存患得患失, 可是隨著時間, 我發現在她身上學會了很多的東西, 而她那在別人眼光中日趨老朽的身體對我而言卻是如此具誘惑. 她也絕對懂得如何挑起我的情慾. 她的輕撫已足以把我推至我從沒有經驗過的亢奮.  我的叫床聲在她那座華麗的宮殿中迴旋.  對其他的女僕興奴隸而言, 我不是另一個買回來的女子. 我就是埃普蓮娜, 是她們女主人最愛的人; 她們對我只能畢恭畢敬.

我可以策騎她馬廄中的任何名駒. 她更僱請導師來提升我戰鬥的技巧, 倒不是因為我會有被派上戰場的可能, 而只是因為我希望令自己以前學過的戰技精益求精.  後來, 我本族的高盧人已和帝國融成一體. 「報仇復國」已變得毫無意義. 我再不是什麼「公主」, 我只是埃普蓮娜, 露茜莉亞的埃普蓮娜.
生命變得如此美好, 有點過份美好了.

四.

在這個夏天, 惡運終於追上了我們.  我已在這大宅三年了, 而我和露茜莉亞都形影不離. 有一天, 露茜莉亞因傷風引了咳嗽不止. 我們召了醫生, 他開了藥, 卻沒有出現預期的治療效果. 最後, 醫生診斷是露茜莉亞的肺部出了問題. 她被通知她將不會再有另一個夏天.

這對我來說是晴天霹靂. 在恐慌中我遍尋名醫, 她也不惜重金找尋可以回春妙方. 這點錢對她來說根本是九牛一毛. 她那死於對波斯人戰爭中的丈夫留下給她的家產根本用之不竭. 後來, 她告訴我她不是害怕死亡, 而是她想和我一起更長久一些. 我儘心力去照顧她. 但一切都是徒勞. 露茜莉亞日漸消瘦. 她的臉龐凹陷下去. 每次造愛後, 她都異常疲憊. 而我則噩夢連連. 其中一個原因是露茜莉亞的先夫在遺囑中訂明: 一旦露茜莉亞不在人世, 所有財產將歸於他的姪兒所有. 即使露茜莉亞有心留一小部份財產給我, 在律法面前她也無能為力. 我會馬上一貧如洗, 如要生存, 就只能在陰暗的窄巷中出賣身體去賺取微薄的收入糊口. 但我最害怕的還是失去露茜莉亞. 我想過到時自我了斷, 可是我信奉的宗教不容許自我結束生命. 在教義下, 死亡只能經年邁, 疾病或英勇戰死達成.

帝國正處於和平盛世. 即使在戰爭, 他們也不會像我以前的部族一樣容許女子加入行伍, 執戈殺敵.
唯一的可能就是在角鬥場上血染黃沙.

五.

女角鬥士以生死較量已很流行, 原本, 它只是用來點綴一下在場中傳統的決鬥, 而最早的女角鬥士表演滑稽多於血腥. 人們會以看到穿著展露女性身體護甲的女子在場中打打鬧鬧而捧腹大笑. 那些女角鬥士也極少有死傷. 但漸漸地, 新加入的女角鬥士越來越專業, 最後原本只在男角鬥士間出現的殺戮也成為女角鬥士競技時的常態.
『我們即將面對死亡者向爾致敬!』
這台詞出自女性口中時帶有一種奇異的感動力. 那些護甲, 胸脯, 美麗的面孔以及即將出現的艷血飛濺場面令觀眾著迷. 當美麗的事物遭到毀滅時, 它會產生另外一種奇異的美感.
現在, 女角鬥士已成為一種高危職業. 正因如此, 她們比以前更受青睞. 女人有如男人般在場中一決生死. 事實上,女角鬥士在場中存活率和男性的差不了多少.  以拇指朝天表示免其一死的手勢越來越罕見. 而女性角鬥士比起男性的更少哀求饒命. 一柄指向對方要害的短劍, 高挺待刺的胸脯, 一記猛刺然後被殺者屍體就由木頭車子送回角鬥場下方陰暗廊道的井口前, 屍體在撲通一聲後消失在通往海灣的地下河水中…
我知道我自己的技藝已很不一般. 可是, 我沒有幻想: 我是或遲或早會一命嗚呼的. 但這總比在露茜莉亞離世後要被迫和另一個人同床好.
作為自幼即被訓練成女戰士的我, 這是我必然的選擇. 但除此之外, 我渴望露茜莉亞親眼看到我在角鬥場上的英姿, 又或如我戰敗, 親眼看到我生命的最後結局. 我知道這會令她傷心欲絕. 可是, 我也知道直至露茜莉亞吸入最後一口氣她都不會忘記我.
正如我對露茜莉亞說: 我是一個自私的女子. 我希望抓著永恆: 只要她活著一天也不會被忘掉的那種永恆.
而露茜莉亞知道我一旦下定決心, 就會義無反顧.

六.
她安排好我第一次出場.
我的對手是一個年僅十八歲左右的新手. 從她拿著小圓盾及短劍碰碰撞撞的進入角鬥場中那一刻, 我已知道我可以不費吹灰之力就可以擊敗她. 她的雙眼中充滿了恐懼. 很明顯, 她不是自願加入訓練營參與這生死遊戲的.

『我們即將面對死亡者向爾致敬!』我們照本宣科的把台詞唸出.

我看到露茜莉亞點頭. 她知道我絕對不會有任何危險. 她是這天角鬥士活動的贊助人, 一切都在她的掌控之中.

我們交手了.  一如所料, 那女子很快竟仰臥在我腳下, 她的頭盔和盾都滾得遠遠, 而她正因面臨生關死劫而大汗淋漓.
我把劍尖指向她的胸脯. 她應該要以無畏的姿態去迎接我的刺戮的, 可是她只能不斷發抖.
場中的觀眾都發出噓聲. 在角鬥場中, 慈悲本來就罕有. 他們預期戰敗者要勇敢的接受命運.
在場一大半的拇指都是向下!
我望向露茜莉亞. 在今天, 她的決定才是唯一重要的.
她伸出了, 把拇指朝天.
觀眾失望極了. 通常, 和觀眾意見打對台的人會在政治上變成不受歡迎的人. 可是露茜莉亞不是政客. 她不需要群眾的認可. 少女逃出生天. 她最少可以多活些日子. 這也是我和露茜莉亞一早就約定了的.
我不想雙手沾上這新丁的鮮血.

七.

下一場就沒有如此輕鬆了.
她來自庫什, 全身古銅色, 高大威猛.
不少女角鬥士死在她手下. 我一望而知, 她絕不預期會因露茜莉亞手下留情而存活, 反之, 她是希望把我在戰鬥中乾脆地殺掉.
事實上, 也無需露茜莉亞的慈悲. 我的劍插進了她的肚臍時她以不相信這會發生的目光望向我. 觀眾會瘋了. 之前, 他們一直是她的擁躉. 但看到她戰敗, 他們就馬上落井下石. 他們要見到血: 任何人的血都可以!
『埃普蓮娜! 埃普蓮娜!』
我把劍向列席貴賓角落的露茜莉亞方向高舉. 她站著, 一臉笑容. 這是我榮光的一刻, 是為她而戰勝的一刻!
『埃普蓮娜, 我多愛你!』
『我也一樣地愛你, 露茜莉亞!』
我們之間相隔的距離太遠, 話是聽不到的了. 可是, 又有誰需要聽到? 我們是心有靈犀.

八.

我羸了一場又一場.  我成了眾人皆知的偶像. 其中一次, 我要把一個認輸的少女殺掉; 不是為了仇視而是因為慈悲. 她受的重傷已令她必死無疑. 我向露茜莉亞輕輕點頭. 她把拇指向下. 那少女, 一個美人兒, 挺起胸脯受死.
『睡吧, 好姊妹…』我把劍尖推入她的左胸時低聲對她說.
她向後一仰, 大字形的躺臥在地. 一輪木頭車上來把她拖走了. 海灣又多了一具美麗的戰利品.
不是每次戰鬥都是無驚無險的. 有時, 我也會被對手迫至角鬥場的土牆上. 當我最後獲勝時, 即使我向露茜莉亞暗示可以饒她一命, 露茜莉亞會因為對手險些就取了我的性命而憤怒地把拇指向下.
『殺了她! 殺了她!』群眾瘋狂叫囂.
『閉上眼睛吧.』我向跪在我面前的她說.
『不! 讓我帶著尊嚴去死! 我不怕!』
她是個好樣的.
我把劍剌入她的胸.

九.

我的對手不限於女性.
有時, 我會和男性角鬥士交手. 但我絕對可以應付得過來. 有一次, 我和兩名手持繩網及三叉戟的侏儒交手時幾乎被其中一張網纏著.  如果真的那樣, 我就危險了. 即管露茜莉亞會向戰敗的我伸出朝天拇指, 這兩人很可能不等待那一刻就把我解決. 一想到被繩網鎖定再被三叉戟在我我身體上開了血洞就令我汗流浹背. 我不怕死, 卻不想如此死法. 他們也說: 因為侏儒身裁矮小, 容貌不揚, 他們往往在殺死對手前會把對手百般侮辱. 如果露茜莉亞看到這情景會如何感想? 幸而我在最後一刻閃過了攻擊, 而被繩網纏著的不是我, 而是其中一個侏儒. 當他正掙扎企圖擺脫時, 我快速的結果了另外一個. 然後我回身收拾他. 他從絆網中走了出來, 但看到同伴已被殺, 馬上知道他毫無機會取勝. 於是, 他轉身就逃.
『殺了他! 殺了他!』
觀眾要他的血. 在角鬥士場中, 逃命是被視為懦夫行為. 戰敗者應理所當然的平靜接受命運.

我拾起了他留在地上的三叉戟, 瞄準. 他倒下了, 那三支尖刃沒入他的背部.

十.

『你什麼時候才停止?』那天晚上, 露茜莉亞在和我造愛後問. 『你不會永遠如此幸運的.』
她剛把話說完就狂咳嗽不已. 過了很久她才可以停止咳嗽.
『我會告訴你的.』我說.
『給我一個日子!』她在喘氣.
我沉默下來. 一方面, 我不想她為我擔心. 但另一方面, 我已可以看到我的末路, 無論這是會因露茜莉亞的去世抑是在角鬥士場上被殺. 她可以再會活多久? 我應再活多久?
啊, 露茜莉亞! 我寧願你長痛不如短痛, 親目看到我的下場, 而不想你被送入家族墓園時仍要擔心我以後的生計而不安.
『再戰一場吧.』
『不准反悔.』
『不反悔.』
 我知道下一場的角戰士表演在何時舉行. 那是三天後, 是為一名從羅馬來的執政官慶生而舉辦的, 而他很有可能會成為下一位凱撒.
他很喜愛看角鬥士. 他也從不把拇指向天放任何人一條生路.
而他這次帶來了他的「御用」角鬥士---馬其頓的馬卡斯.

十一.

這是一次空前的盛會.
總共有三十名角鬥士參予. 我是被安排最後一個踏進場中的. 當我進場時,  已有十七名角鬥士戰死場中.  在其中一場戰鬥中, 參予的兩名角鬥士雙雙死去.
『不要大意啊, 埃普蓮娜. 這次是執政官決定生死, 不是我. 你一定要戰勝.』露茜莉亞顯然很擔心.
『我知道, 不用擔心.』我向她微笑令她平靜下來.
可能我過份的平靜反而令她起了疑心. 她進入為貴賓而設的廂座時臉變得很蒼白.
我小心選擇我的裝備. 我放棄了昔日慣用的護甲而採用了一件綑上白底金邊的簡單纏胸布, 在我的下身是一幅白色的短腰裙. 腰部是真空的. 我沒有採用頭盔, 而是把金髮紮成馬尾式樣. 另外,有一青銅脛甲保護我的左腿. 武器方面, 我仍是用我的短劍和小圓盾. 我知道我出場就會馬上吸引到所有人的目光,
我從「不歸門」走進場中.  整個圓型角鬥場馬上歡聲雷動.
我的對手出現了, 是一名從叙利亞前來, 經驗老到的女角鬥士. 她已有二十場不敗的紀錄. 她穿的是一套緊身皮甲, 手持兩杆標槍. 在她腰間另有一短劍.

『我們即將面對死亡者向爾致敬!』我們向貴賓廂行禮.
戰鬥開始了.
她的確不錯. 我出盡所有方法引她過早擲出標槍. 我知道只要她沒有了標槍, 她就任憑我宰割.
但她很有經驗, 不到最後關頭, 又或者她以為的最後關頭, 絕不出手.
觀眾對我們一直對峙卻沒有埋身有點不耐煩了. 我們兩人都知道不能一直如此下去. 以前也有先例: 兩名角鬥因令所有觀眾失望雙雙被釘死在十字架上.
我使出老得掉牙的老招: 一腳踢起了沙子. 如果經驗稍遜的對手這時就會因沒有盾而以臂護眼, 於是對手就可以藉一閃即逝的機會把對方擊殺.
但她不是新手. 她沒有以臀護眼而是向她估計我跳開的路線擲出她第一杆標槍. 她當然不會期望這標槍會把我擊倒, 而是當我用盾架開標槍時, 我就會空門大露, 而那時我人仍在半空, 根本無法閃避另一杆標槍.
但她忘了我也不是新丁.
我沒有跳.
相反的我在地上翻滾向前, 而當她的兩根標槍在我頭頂上虎嘯而過時, 我的劍切斷她左足上的筋鍵.
她屈膝跪了下來, 滿臉驚惶, 但仍拔出短劍負隅頑抗.
我以小圓盾擋開了她的攻擊.
戰鬥已結束.
沒有出人意表的結果.
拇指向下.
我殺了她.
露茜莉亞臉上泛起了微笑.
但那笑容僵著了. 我沒有走向「不歸門」, 沒有走向「安全」, 而是屹站在競技場中.
『我向馬其頓的馬卡斯挑戰!』
在任何其他情形下, 這會是個極無禮的行為. 可是執政官臉上露出笑容再向他的「御用」角鬥士點點頭. 觀眾歡呼之聲震天. 露茜莉亞呆了.
『我們即將面對死亡者向爾致敬!』再一次, 角鬥士的死亡宣誓響起.
戰鬥開始.
我知道自己不是他的對手. 他比我強壯, 他動作比我快, 而他遠比我有作戰經驗. 但我全力以赴, 而且打得不錯. 我甚至在他左臂上劃下兩道劍痕, 只是割得不深, 他沒有受任何影響. 他也沒有因此而動怒.  反而我從他的眼神中看到他對我的尊重.  很明顯, 從來沒有人傷過他, 而我只是一個女人. 戰鬥已不是一個男角鬥士與一個女角鬥士的戰鬥, 而是兩個平等的戰士…平等, 當然不是指體力, 而是戰鬥精神. 我們是角鬥場上的戰友, 是一個兄長和一個妹妹, 要在這裡注定在這沙圈中以性命相搏, 而只有一個可以活著離開.
而那人不是我.
在無數的攻擊和反擊後, 我的劍被挑至半空. 我以小圓盾擋開他下一個攻擊, 但那一擊力道之大令我屈膝. 我敗了. 他也明白. 他的目光集中在我那已被我汗水濕透而緊緊黏在我肌膚上的纏胸布. 他向我點頭, 大概是向我的美麗和勇氣致敬吧.
我認輸了, 把那半破的圓盾挪開讓我的乳房暴露.
『求我饒命吧.』他低聲說.
我笑了笑, 搖頭.
我們二人同時望向執政官, 以及露茜莉亞.
她在向執政官以眼神哀求: 饒了她! 饒了她!
觀眾卻有不同意見.’
『殺! 殺! 殺 !』
其實這無關宏旨. 執政官絕不會被左右.
拇指向下.
我深深吸了一口氣, 把我纏胸布掩著心臟的那一邊拉下.
『完成你要做的事.』
他以一手按著我的肩膀, 然後他用他的小彎刀插入我左胸.
我感到嘴角溢出鮮血甜中帶苦的味道.
我的身體不自主的抖震. 在遠處, 露茜莉亞正以雙手掩面.
『求求你, 露茜莉亞, 不要傷心…我愛你…這一切的事…我很開心…不要忘了我…』
馬其頓的馬卡斯把刀刃拔出. 我向後倒下. 我的背部撞到沙上. 我大字型躺臥在地望向無雲的天空.
從遠處傳來一輛木頭車前來的聲音…
我闔上了雙眼…

十二.

『各位. 請過來這一邊.』導遊向大部份是美國人的旅遊團招手. 『這是很有意思的東西.』
男男女女靠攏過來圍著他. 有些人甚至在做筆記.
『也許』大家可能已從小冊子讀到這大宅是最近才被考古學者發現的. 二千年來, 它就被維蘇威火山的岩灰埋在地下.』
『公元79年.』一個小男孩大聲說出.
『非常好! 對, 那年有一次大爆發令這個城和這大宅都消失了. 它能重見天日而且保存相當完好, 確是一個奇蹟.』
『究竟有什麼特別? 我就看不懂這些馬賽克階磚想表示什麼. 顏色倒是鮮麗的.』一個腰圍偌大的男人說.
『那是因為我們站的位置不對. 各位, 這其實是一個露天的大浴池, 而這些馬賽克彩階隱藏了一個大秘密, 只有當我們站在那邊的陽台上才可以解開謎團.』
『就那個?』胖男人問.
『對, 是一個羅馬富人為他的妻子露茜莉亞建的. 他在東方戰死了. 請跟我來.』
旅行團跟隨導遊沿石階拾步而上.
『安全嗎?』一個年紀較大的婦人有點不安.
『放心吧, 絕對安全.』導遊保證.
『現在, 告訴我你們看到什麼?』
眾人從高處望向先前那些彩石.
『是一幅畫!』那準確說出火山爆發年份的男孩大聲說.
『對, 那麼, 畫中有什麼?』
『我看到有兩個人, 一個臥著, 另一個跪在她旁邊.』男孩回答: 『啊, 都是女人.』
『答對了! 你認為那兩個女人在做什麼?』
眾人沉默起來.

一個男人終於開口: 『好像她是一個戰士, 在她身旁有一柄劍.』
『先生, 你說得對. 她是一個女角鬥士. 她的名字是埃普蓮娜.』
『你怎知道?』
『你可見到那些字? 那是她的名字, 以希臘文砌出. 大家可能知道, 羅馬人喜歡以希臘文作為藝術表達. 他們認為這很有品位,』
『跪下的女人應該是露茜莉亞吧,』一個年輕女人突然明白了: 『另外一個女人是否死了?』
『沒錯. 看看那標示: Theta. 那是一個希臘字母 Θ, 即是死亡.』
『為什麼那女人, 露茜莉亞吧, 要在大浴池底部用彩階砌出這情景?』女人問.
『為了記念她. 我們站在的地方原本就是露茜莉亞的睡房. 於是, 每一個早晨當她醒來時, 她就可以望向下方看到對她感受很深的事或人. 從這些彩階我們可以假定露茜莉亞和死去的埃普蓮娜應是戀人關係.』
 『女同性戀者?』
導遊點點頭: 『應該是.』
『這露茜莉亞是在爆發時喪生的嗎?』那胖男人問.
『不. 根據考官學家掘出來的文案, 包括泥板和卷軸, 露茜莉亞死於爆發前五年. 她當時已是六十多歲了, 在當時屬不常見的高壽, 特別是她的醫生在她四十歲時曾判斷她活不過一年. 那是在埃普蓮娜被殺前不久的事. 不知什麼原因, 她活下來了.』
『你是說, 二十年來, 她就每天站在這陽台去悼念她所愛的?』女人已差不多忍不住眼淚了.
『小姐, 你應沒猜錯.』
 所有人都靜下來了.
然後, 那女人深深吸了一口氣.
『對不起, 我要打個電話.』
『給你的丈夫?』那胖男人吃吃的笑.
『不! 給我所愛的人, 卡門. 我要告訴她我很愛她.』
導遊理解地點點頭.
這不是第一次他看到他的客人因這故事感動, 他知道這也絕不會是最後一次.


(故事完)






 

原英文版:



Theta (A gladiatrix story with a difference)

1.

“Why do you have to do it?” Lucilla asked.
“Because it is my nature. “I answered. “Look!”
“What?”
“That,” I pointed at the imposing Vesuvius. “Just like it, there is a fire inside me that cannot be smothered. I have dreamed of doing this for too long.”
“Can’t you wait till I am gone.  My doctor told me that I have one more year to live at the most.  Why do you have to break my heart?”
“Call me a selfish woman, Lucilla.  But between the choices of losing you and you losing me, I will definitely choose the latter.  Can’t you see?  I can only do this now, when you are still here.  I want you to see me in the arena; how the people cheer me, how I fight and yes, even how I die.  If you are no longer around, everything I do will be pointless.  Besides, you are influential and you can make proper arrangement for me, choosing the most appropriate opponent for me to fight.  Left to myself, I would have no choice but to take whatever is put before me.”
“But you know I love you!” She put her arms around my waist from behind, burying her face between my neck and my left shoulder.
“I love you too, Lucilla.  But I do not want to live that long.  I may not be as lucky as you and find someone to love me back.”
Lucilla is twenty years my senior.  That matters little.  If anything, that makes our love more intense as we both know even if the illness does not get her, there will come a time when she will leave this life, possibly much earlier than me.  And we have decided to make use of all the limited time we have to love each other.

2.

She found me in the market where I was offered as a slave.  Perhaps it was my spirit that caught her eye.  Before I was taken as prisoner, I was the daughter of a chief in Gaul, a kind of warrior-princess.  When the merchant who bought me from the legion and then led me to the open market as merchandize, I repeatedly fought his humiliating action of turning me around to show my perk breasts and backside.
“Now this is a rare one!  Healthy, full of spirit, perfect as a bed-sport!” The man touted his potential buyers. “She is even of royal blood.  Well, kind of.  The opening bid is sixty silver pieces.  Any one?”
“Seventy pieces of silver.”
“Eighty.”
“A hundred.”
“A hundred and fifty!”
“A hundred.” It was a woman’s voice.
The man laughed. “Lady, the bidding is supposed to go up, not the way round.”
The woman laughed. “I know.  I am offering one hundred pieces, in gold.”
There was a gasp in the crowd.
“Are you serious? Nobody pays that kind of price for a slave-girl.  You are…”The man eyed her suspiciously.
“I am always serious.” She showed him the ring on her finger.
The man’s demeanor changed immediately from mock to utmost respect.
“Yes, of course, my lady.  She is yours.”
I was led by the chain attached to my collar around my neck to her.
“What is your name?”
“Eponina.”
“I am Lucilla.”
“Yes, my lady.” I lowered my eyes.  I knew she should be the best I could possibly hope for as a mistress.
“No, Lucilla.  Just Lucilla.”

3.

She made love to me on the very first night.  She was loving and tender, treating me with respect and caring for what I felt, and thought.
I thought she was only interested in my body and she would soon get tired of me.  Then, she would probably sell me and get someone younger, prettier, more satisfying.
But she didn’t.
It was always me, by her side, in her bed, in her thoughts.
At first, I had reservations making love with a woman so many years my senior but as time went by, I learned so much from her and I found her body which others might view as senile, arousing.  She certainly knew how to arouse me.  Her touch alone could drive me to heights of pleasure I did not even know existed.  My moans filled her luxurious palace with abandon.  To the other servants and slaves, I was never a bought woman.  I was simply Eponina, their mistress’s beloved, someone to be respected and obeyed.
I was allowed to ride and Lucilla hired the best instructor to improve my skill of fighting, not that there was any probability of me going off to war but simply because I loved to horned my former skill.  By this time, my people had fully integrated with the empire and revenge was just an empty word.  I was no longer a “princess”.  I was just Eponina, Lucilla’s Eponina.
Life was good, too good.

4.

The bad news came at the end of this summer.  I had lived in the villa for more than three years now and we were happy with each other’s company.  Then, Lucilla developed a cold and she coughed a lot.  A doctor was sent for and prescription given.  The cough would not go away.  Finally, the doctor diagnosed something serious with her lungs.  She was told that she might not see another summer.
I was devastated.  In desperation, I searched the best doctor available and she spared no expense to get the best medicine.  She certainly could afford it.  Her late husband, who was killed in battle fighting against the Persians, had left her an estate that could ensure she could live comfortably forever.  Later, she told me she did not because she was afraid to die, but she wanted to stay with me longer.  I took care of her in whatever way possible.  But it was useless.  Lucilla got weaker and thinner.  Her cheeks became shallow and after each love-making, she tired easily.  I had bad dreams.  One reason was that the will of Lucilla’s late husband stipulated that should Lucilla passed away, all the fortune would go to his nephew.  Even if Lucilla wanted to leave anything for me, there was nothing she could do.  I would be destitute and the only way out would be to sell my body in the back alley for a pittance.  But the biggest nightmare was losing Lucilla.  I had contemplated taking my own life but my religion forbade that.  The only way to die properly, apart from old age and sickness, was to fall in battle.
The empire was at peace.  Even if there was war, unlike the tradition of my tribe, they would not accept a Gallic woman to join the ranks of the legionnaires.
The only thing left was the arena.

5.

Gladiatrix fights had become popular.  This started as something designed to add variation to the more traditional form of duels in the arena.  The first fights were more for fun than a matter of life and death.  People laughed at the silliness of the whole thing, loved to savor at the exposed flesh of female bodies and the mock battles in which there were few actual mortalities.  But gradually, the fights became more serious, the combatants more experienced and better trained and the cries for blood extended to gladiatrices as well.
“We who are about to die, salute you!”
When spoken from female lips, it created a special kind of sensation.  The armor, the breasts, the lovely faces and the promising spill of blood made the crowd drunk.  There is a special kind of beauty to see beautiful things destroyed.
Now, becoming a gladiatrix was a dangerous profession, and hence more respected.  Women fought like men.  They also died like men.  True, the life expectance of a gladiatrices might not be much longer than those of their male counterparts.  The thumb-up sign for mercy was getting rarer.  And women, sometimes even more proud than the men, were even less inclined to plead for their lives.  A pointing gladius, a waiting breast, a thrust and then a cart to carry the fallen back into the dark corridors beneath the arena to a waiting well.  A splash and the body disappeared, following its watery course to the open bay.
I knew I was good but I had no illusion.  I would be vanquished sooner or later.  That was at least better than the other options.  Being forced to bed someone else after Lucilla was simply unthinkable.
I wanted to do it, as befitting my brought-up as a warrior.  But most of all, I wanted Lucilla see me fight and if I lost, see me die.  It might break her heart but my last moments would forever be carved in her heart, until her own departure from this world.  
As I told Lucilla, I am a selfish woman and I want immortality, the kind that will live on as long as she lives on.
And Lucilla knew, once I made up my mind, I would never go back.

6.

She arranged my first fight.
My opponent was a novice of no more than eighteen.  I knew she was easy meat when she stumbled into the arena with that round shield, the parmula and her gladius.  Her eyes were filled with terror.  It was obvious that she did not join the school voluntarily.
“We who are about to die salute you.” We chanted.
I saw Lucilla nod.  She knew I would not be in any danger.  She had sponsored the fight for the day and was in full control.  
We fought.  As expected, it was over within very short time.  The girl was lying under my foot, her helmet and shield gone, her body sweating all over at the possibility of a thumb-down.
I placed the tip of my own gladius at her breast.  She was supposed to brace it for me to make my thrust.  But she was trembling all over.
The crowd booed.  Compassion was not a circulating currency here.  The one vanquished was supposed to accept whatever fate decided with dignity and courage.  
Half of the thumbs from the crowd was pointing downwards.
I looked at Lucilla.  Her decision was the only one mattered.
She held up her hand and made the thumb up sign.
The crowd was definitely disappointed.   Under other circumstances, this would make the one who made decisions against the crowd’s mood unpopular.  But Lucilla was no politician and did not need any approval from the crowd.  The girl lived, at least for this fight, as I had made accord with Lucilla before the fight.
I wanted no blood of a novice on my hands.

7.

The next fight was more serious.
She was from the land of Kush, olive skinned, tall and powerful.
There was much blood in her hands and I could see she wanted to take no chance at my being spared by Lucilla’s thumb of mercy.  She wanted to end my life there and then, in battle.  
The fight did not end in any plead or grant of mercy.  She fell, with my blade through her navel and her eyes staring up in disbelief.  The crowd went wild with cheer.  They had been cheering for her during the previous fights.  But their support did not extend to this one in which she was the vanquished.  The crowd wanted blood.  It hardly mattered from whom the blood flowed.
“Eponina! Eponina!”
I raised my gladius towards where the guests of honor were sitting.  Lucilla stood, smiling.  This was my moment of glory.  This was my moment of glory for her.  
“I love you so much, Eponina!”
“And I love you as much, Lucilla.”
The distance between us were too far apart for words to be heard.  But who needed words to be heard?   We spoke with our hearts and felt with our hearts.

8.

I won fight after fight.  My fame was spreading.  I had to kill a girl in one of them after she submitted.  But I did not do it for spite but for mercy.  She was mortally wounded at her side and she would not live anyway.  My slight nod towards Lucilla brought her thumb down.  The girl, a blonde of great beauty, braced her chest for the kill.
“Sleep, sister…” I whispered and pushed the point of my gladius into the upper part of her left breast.
She fell and lay there, spread-eagled.  A rolling cart was pulled to her side and soon she was towed away.  The bay would claim another pretty trophy.
Not all fights were easy.  Sometimes, I was so hard pressed that my back was against the earthwork that surrounded the area covered by sand. And when I finally won, Lucilla was so furious that she put her thumb down despite my wish to spare my opponent.  
“Kill! Kill!” The crowd chanted.
“Close your eyes.” I said to the one kneeling down.
“No, let me die with dignity.  I am not afraid to die.”
She was a proud one.
I thrust my gladius into her chest.

9.

Not all my opponents were women.
Sometimes, I had to fight male gladiators though none that I could not handle.  I fought once with two dwarfs, retiarius with their weighed nets and tridents.  I was nearly ensnarled by one of those nets and if I was, I would be at their mercy.  Even Lucilla might not save me as they might decide to finish me off without asking for the thumb sign.  The very thought of being helpless in the net as the three-pronged trident made holes in my torso made me sweat all over.  I was not afraid to die but I never wanted to die that way.  They also told me that dwarfs, due to their grotesque sizes, usually made fun of their victims before killing them off.  I might end up naked, my scanty armor ripped from me as my arms were incapacitated by the ropes of the net, my breasts fondled and sucked before the crowd.  How would Lucilla feel if she saw me in such predicament?  Fortunately, I side-stepped at the very last moment and instead of trapping me, it was one of them who got the net over his head.  While he was struggling with it, I quickly dispatched the other one.  Then, I came back to the other who had just managed to get rid of his encumbrance.  With his partner dead, he knew he had no chance.  He turned to flee.  
“Kill him!  Kill him!”
The crowd was mad with blood.  It was undignified to try fleeing for one’s life.  Those who were defeated were expected to accept their fate stoically.
I picked up the trident he had left on the ground and took aim.   He fell, the three prongs buried into his back.

10.

“When will you stop?” Lucilla asked that night after we made love. “You are pushing your luck too far.”
She coughed after finishing her sentence and it was quite some time before she could stop the coughing.
“I will let you know.” I said.
“Give me a date!” She was breathing heavily.
I was silent.  On one hand, I would not want to make her sad and worry over me.  On the other hand, I saw my end approaching, one way or another.  How long could she live?  How long must I live?  
Oh, Lucilla! I would rather you see my end than for you to worry what would happen to me after they sent your body into your family mausoleum.
“One more fight.”
“Promised?”
“Yes, I promise.”
I knew when the next fight was to take place.  It was three days from now, the birthday of a consul from Rome who was rumored to have good chance of becoming the next emperor.  
He loved gladiator shows.  He also never gave the thumb-up sign.
And he had brought his champion gladiator, Marcus of Macedonia, with him.

11.

It was a huge performance.
All together there were thirty gladiator fights.  I was arranged to be the last one to step into the ring.  By that time, seventeen of the participants were dead.  In two of the fights, both combatants died.
“Be careful, Eponina.  The consul is the one who decides to grant mercy or to order death today, not I.  You must triumph!” Lucilla was anxious.
“I know.  Do not worry.” I smiled to assure her.
May be my calmness betrayed me.  She did not seem assured and her face was so pale when she went up to the ima cavea, the area reserved for the upper echelons and naturally, the guest of honor.
I had chosen my garb with care.  Instead of armor, I opted for a simple strophium lined in gold which accentuated the curves of my breasts while exposing my round shoulders.  Around my waist was the subligar, also white.  There was nothing between these two pieces of fabric.  My slender waist was exposed.  I chose no helmet but tie my golden hair behind me into a pony-tail.  There was a bronze ocrea, a greave to protect my left leg.  For weapon, I picked up my favorite gladius and my parmula, my small round shield.  I knew I was stunning and the crowd would go wild with me, alive, or dead.

I walked out of the vomitoria.  And the amphitheater roared with approval.

My opponent appeared, a veteran gladiatrix from Syria with twenty victories to her credit.  She wore a leather harness and carried two javelins.  There was also a big dirk at her belt.
“Nos morituri te salutamus!” We made the customary salute.
The fight began.
She was good.  I tried every trick to induce her to cast her javelin prematurely as I knew once she had done that, she would be at my mercy.
But she was experienced and held back until she spotted the right moment, or when she thought she spotted the right moment.  
The crowd was booing as we continued to keep our distance.  Both of us knew we had to make a move.  It was not unheard of that disappointing gladiators, and gladiatrices at that, were both crucified for their lack-lustra performance.
I used the old trick and kicked up sand at her face.  A less experienced fighter would immediately shield her eyes with her arm since she did not carry a shield.  This would give her opponent to jump in and finish her off.
But she was no novice and instead of bringing up her arm, she cast her first javelin at the path which she was certain I would take to close in.   She did not even intend to hit me with the missile.  She knew I would use my shield to deflect it. If I did that, my front would be open and since I was in a jumping forward movement, would be most vulnerable to another missile.  
But she had forgotten that I was no novice too.
I did not jump.
Instead I made a roll and before she knew what was happening, her two missiles had whistled past me above my head and my gladius had cut the sinew of her left foot!
She went down, shocked but managed to pull out her dirk as a last defense.
I employed my shield to knock it off her hand.
The fight was over.
No surprise.
Thumb down.
I killed her.
And Lucilla was smiling.
But her smile froze when, instead of walking back to the vomitorium, and safety, I remained standing in the arena.
“I challenge Marcus of Macedonia to a fight!”
It would be a rude thing to do under any other situation.  But the consul beamed and nodded to his champion. The crowd roared in excitement. Lucilla was petrified.
He was tall, and powerful as his biceps bore evidence.  He wore a leather armor and used a sica, the curved scimitar, as his weapon.  He needed no shield.
“Nos morituri te salutamus!” Once again, the pledge was given.
The fight began.  
I knew I was not his match.  He was stronger, faster and far more experienced.  But I had fought hard, and fought well.  I even scored two cuts across his left arm though none of these were fatal, not even serious enough to cause him serious trouble.  It also failed to enrage him.  Instead, I saw respect in his eyes.  It was obvious no one had succeeded in wounding him, least of all by a woman.  The fight was now not between a gladiator and a gladiatrix.  It was a fight between equals, in spirit if not in might.  We were comrades of the arena, a brother and a sister who were fated to meet in this pit of sand where only one of them would survive.
I was not the one.
After numerous attacks and counter-attacks, my gladius was sent across the empty air.  I blocked his next slash with my shield but the impact was so great that it brought me down to my knees.  I had lost and he knew it.  His eyes fixed on my panting chest, the breasts now clearly visible as the strophium, thoroughly dampened by my sweating, adhered to my skin so that it seemed to have become part of me.  He nodded in admiration at my beauty, and courage shown.
I conceded, moved the arm that still carried the half-broken shield to one side so that my breasts were exposed.
“Plead for mercy!” He murmured.
I shook my head and smiled.
Both of us turned our heads towards the consul, and Lucilla.
She was begging with her eyes: Mercy! Mercy!
The crowd had very different idea.
“Kill! Kill! Kill!”
The consul would not have it any other way in any case.
The thumb turned down.
I took a deep breath, tore down one side of my strophium so that my heart was exposed.  
“Finish your job!” I said.
He held one of my shoulders to steady me.  Then, he plunged his sica into my exposed breast.
I felt the bitter-sweet blood oozing from my mouth.
My body shook involuntarily as the pain sank in.  In the distance, Lucilla was covering her face with her hands.
“Please, please, Lucilla…do not grieve…I love you…I am so happy it happened this way…do not forget me…”
Marcus of Macedonia pulled the blade back and I fell backwards.  My back hit the sand and I was lying there, spread-eagled, and gazed at the empty sky.
From a distance, a cart was heard rolling in….
I closed my eyes….

12

“Come here please, ladies and gentlemen.” The tour guide was beckoning the group, mostly Americans. “This is something very special.”
The men and women gathered around him.  Some were even taking notes.
“As you probably may have read in the brochure, this villa was only recently rediscovered by archeologists.  For nearly two thousand years, it had been buried by the ashes from the volcano Vesuvius.”
“In A.D. 79.” A boy in the group shouted out.
“Very good!  Yes, there was a great eruption which destroyed the city and this villa simply disappeared.  It is a miracle that this and that building over there could be found intact.”
“What is so special about it?  I cannot make out a thing from these mosaic tiles.  They are colorful enough though.” A man with a full belly commented.
“Ah, that is because we are looking at it from a wrong place.  You see, this was an open bath and these mosaic tiles hid a secret which could only be understood if we follow me to the veranda of that building.”
“That one over there?” The fat man asked.
“Yes, it was built by a Roman nobleman who left it to his wife Lucilla, when he was killed in battle somewhere in the east.  Anyway, please follow me.”
The group followed the tour guide climbing up the stairs to a veranda of the only building left standing.
“Is it safe?” An elderly woman asked with some nervousness.
“It is very safe.  Do not worry.” The guide assured her.
“Now, tell me what you see.”
The group looked down at the same tiles now from the height of the veranda.
“It is a picture!” The boy who gave the correct date of the eruption shouted.
“Yes! And what was in the picture?”
“I can see two people, one lying down and another kneeling at the side.” The boy answered. “Hey, both of them were women!”
“Correct! And why do you think was that woman lying there?”
The group felt silent.
Finally, a man replied. “It seems she was a kind of warrior.  There is a sword on the side.”
“Yes, sir.  She was a gladiatrix and her name was Epionina.”
“How do you know?”
“You see that group of letters?  It is her name in Greek. As you may know, the Romans liked to use Greek as their literal language, thinking it was classy.”
“So, the woman kneeling over her was Lucilla.” A young woman seemed to have got it. “Is the other woman dead?”
“Right.  Look at that sign over there.  It is a theta, the Greek alphabet Θ, meaning death.”
“Why did the woman, Lucilla I presume, build a bath with these mosaic tiles at the bottom?” The woman asked.
“To remember her, Madam.  The room we are in was once the bedroom of Lucilla.  So, every morning, when she woke up, she could look down and see something or someone she had great feelings for.  From the tiles, we could presume she was in love with Epionina who was killed.”
“Lesbians?”
The man nodded. “Seems so.”
“So, this Lucilla was killed in the eruption?” The fat man asked.
“Not exactly.  According to articles dug up by the archeologists, there were tablets and scrolls that told us that Lucilla actually died five years before the eruption.  She was then sixty some years old, rare for the people living at that time, particularly that it was also told that when she was in her mid-forties, her doctor had given the diagnosis that she had no more than one year to live.  That was shortly before Epionina was killed in the arena. Yet somehow she survived”
“So, she had been standing on this balcony for over twenty years every morning mourning the death of her beloved?” The woman was close to tears.
“Yes, that is most likely.”
The group felt silent.
Then, the woman took a deep breath.  
“Excuse me, I have to make a call back home.”
“To you husband?” The fat man chuckled.
“No! To my love, Carmen.  I want to tell her I love her so much.”
The tour guide nodded understandingly.
This was not the first time one of his group members felt touched by what he or she saw.  And it would not be the last.

(End)