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.