A rather unlikely event occured three days after that banquet.
Lanista Aurelius was summoned by Augustus. As a consequence, his wife Lavinia was left alone for a few days.
It happened also to be more or less a coincidence, that she had other noble wives visiting their estate daily. And as entertainment, all were watching the gladiators train.
"It looks like the noble lady is having a feast of her own while the husband is gone, one of the slave girls told me," said Marcus smirking to Erik.
"So? That is none of our business," answered Erik dismissively.
"You think? Who do you think will be the entertainment?"
"Looking forward to it..." said Erik with the same enthusiasm.
"I am sure your pretty face will put you on the favourite list, not even speaking about the Northman. Lucky bastards."
Kiril was listening even if his gaze was on the arena. So the noble lady was planning to have a fun time while the husband was gone. That was good. He started becoming restless; they didn't want to be prisoners there for ever. Three days were more than enough
He missed good food, a toothbrush, or a damn toilet and the wound where the centurion had punctures his rib still didn't heal properly and needed some cleaning.
That same evening, four of the eight gladiators from their cell got escorted to the bathing quarters again. It was no surprise that he and Erik were selected. So was Marcus that chanted in joy, and a young, black haired celt called Cormac.
Still cuffed, they were brought to the banquet room. Five other gladiators from other cells were waiting there also. There were only women, four in number besides the mistress.
The women were walking along them looking them up and down, talking and giggling.
"Did you miss being looked upon like a piece of meat?" asked Kiril.
Erik was looking particularly grim that night. He probably also knew what was going to happen.
"Yeah, feels almost like a Blood Moon night."
Kiril smiled unwillingly at the comparison and the irony. He remembered his first Blood Moon night. It had certainly not been his first time per se, but it was the first time that had mattered. He had been so many things that night: foolish, brave, naive and many other. It had been the first time he thought he was going to mate with somebody he loved. It had proven to be the total opposite in the end when he slipped into Selene's mind and learned the truth about her.
Now he acknowledged he had never slept with anybody he loved, ever. People say it's one of the best feelings in the world. He couldn't help but wonder and feel stupid for doing so.
A brunette woman was tracing the lines of the markings on his chest.
"He is so sublimely beautiful. I want him."
"So be it, Cornelia. You are our special guest."
"Which of you speaks his language?" asked Lavinia.
"Only he does, mistress," said Marcus pointing at Erik.
"Hmm," said Cornelia looking at Erik.
"Northman blood seem to produce extraordinarily beautiful offsprings.Tell him he belongs to me for the next hours."
"Looks like you are having some fun, Kiril," said Erik trying to seem mocking and nonchalant. This time Kiril didn't need his gift to know that Erik was beyond uncomfortable.
"Listen, the quarters where they bring us are facing the street and I suppose they will untie us and give the mistress some privacy. Get yourself a rich, stinky and bored roman wife and see you outside," said Kiril bowing down to Cornelia.
"What did he say?"
"That it would be an honor to service you."
"Are all northman that galant? To us you are known as mare savages."
"Savages only when it is convenient, pleasant and requested," said Erik bowing his head.
Kiril felt like chuckling but he suppressed the tentative smile. Erik seemed to be able to give him a run for his money in politics and sweettalk; who would have expected that.
It was more convenient for him if people thought he didn't understand or speak Latin so he could have his fucking peace.
He kept his wannabe barbarian grim expression and followed Cornelia into a room.
Erik was partially right; the soldier untied his hands but didn't leave the quarter.
That was somehow problematic and odd; that woman was just going to cheat on her pretor husband with a savage. The only situation in which that made sense was if nights like these happened on purpose and Aurelius was actually aware of what was happening.
Kirill thought sarcastically that he was actually in the posture of a hooker. He didn't have a lot of time to think though because when he turned around, Cornelia was already completely naked safe her jewelry.
He tried not to cringe. For the time she was living in, Cornelia was probably a good looking woman but to him she was just plain, missing a few teeth, smelling strange and having hair in places women in his century didn't. Mare preference thing but whatever; fact was that he was not aroused. At all.
Kiril also knew that to have the privilege of enjoying his time again he had to suffer trough that.
Ironically, in that moment he remembered the women he slept with in his life, an endless string of faces and names that didn't matter whatsoever, but all were extremely attractive.
He didn't bother with anything that was not perfectly at his liking except... Mila. Mila was not not his usual type. His usual type were skinny tall girls that looked like models, like her roommate Dasha. But Mila... Mila was comparatively short, unpolished, badly dressed and unspectacular, still the damn magic made him perceive her like the hottest thing ever.
But back to business. He could snap the woman's neck, but was not sure if he had enough time to kill the soldier too.
Cornelia was already licking down his lower abs. It looked like the noble lady was desiring to be treated like a slut by a barbarian. So be it, thought Kiril, turned her around and pressed her head on the cushions. She moaned in delight.
Kiril was eyeing the soldier. He was too far away. She turned her head. Hear eyes were silently asking what he was waiting for.
It was just, he was really not attracted to her. Annoyed he digged in his memory for something helpful. He remembered Dasha and Ju. Dasha was not a natural submissive as Ju was, just with him she played that part and she played it well. And Mila... Mila seemed submissive but wasn't at all, at least not with him. What she with Erik? And why was he thinking about that?
At least it did the job... He was extremely hard now.
The woman muttered something probably along the lines of 'put it in already'. He sighed again, then he heard the soldier grunt and fall to the ground.
"Are we done here?" said Erik stepping in the room with bloody hands and a cut on his arm.
Kiril didn't bother and put his hand over the woman's mouth preparing to snap her neck. Erik was quicker and with a skilled hit in the carotide he made her faint instantly.
"Smooth," said Kiril raising one eyebrow.
"One does not need to be a brute to be efficient."
In a few quick moves they were out the window opening and jumping into the street. Finally free. Three days of prison were more than he could stomach.
In the distance they could hear the sound of guards and hounds.
"This was too easy," said Kiril.
"Yes, that's why," said Erik pointing at the soldiers that appeared from around the corner.
They turned around, and noticed another troup.
"Fuck."
And another coming from the third street. They were going to be crushed in-between.
"It is customary for new aquisitions to try to escape at first," said one of the soldiers.
"We were idiots," muttered Kiril.
"Complete idiots," agreed Erik.
"We tapped right into it."
The soldiers escorted them back to the Ludus, and it was not like everything would be forgiven and forgotten.
They got tied up to a pole and whipped bloody for an hour. While Erik seemed to deal better with the torture Kiril was fuming. If he would have his powers, all the soldiers would have met a horrible death after lengthy torture.
They were living peaceful times in the twenty-first century; the ancient era was brutal from that and many other points of view.
He looked at Erik again. There were no emotions on his face whatsoever, not even teeth gritting. That could only be achieved in years,... years of torture.
So the rumors about him and his father were true in the end, concluded Kiril. Heinrich Wittfeld was rumored to have been very cruel, but the same could be said about Rasputin, still he never beat him, not in that way, not with those soul crippling effects. Judging by what he was seeing, the rumors about Heinrich were not rumors after all.
Erik was staring dead-eyed at the moon in the sky and Kiril was staring at him.
The sound of the whip cracked again in the wind and tore in a savage lash the skin on his back. He would tare all their heads off their shoulders, sooner or later.
Another lash, then they stopped.
But they continued whipping Erik. Why? Kiril was worried. He had killed two soldiers and assaulted a noble roman. He was a barbarian to them. His life was worthless. They didn't cared if he died and that meant another big problem for Kiril.
They dragged him away. His back was bleeding and aching and without speed healing or antibiotics he knew the recovery would be long and painful and the scars pretty ugly. But beyond these superficial concerns he couldn't stop thinking about Erik. If he died he would have to find his way alone to the twenty-first century and to Mila.
Half an hour later the guard carried Erik to the cell. He had fainted and his back looked like carnage but he was not dead.
"In... in a week they will make us fight in the arena before Octavius. They want us to die... in a spectacular fashion."
"I am surprised you can still speak, Erik. I must admit I am impressed," said Kiril.
"G... Go fuck yourself."
"It was an honest compliment."
"W..w...was it?"
Kiril could see his face was pale and his lips brittle.
"You might actually die, you know."
"I... will ...no die, ...until find Mila."
"Might not be up to any of us though. Now shut up and sleep."
His own wounds were hurting too much to let him sleep.
In the middle of the night he heard Erik talking in his delirium. Whatever dream he was having in his feverish state it must have been awful. Sweat beads were building up on his forehead and he was pleading an imaginary being, in probably German.
"Erik, shut up. You will wake the others up and they will be angry. Angry brutes are violent and I am not in the shape to protect you or even myself."
Erik's eyes shut open, they were red and painting plain horror and pain.
"Tue ihr nicht weh, bitte..." Kiril didn't understand what the fuck he was saying; he could only hear the other gladiators getting annoyed.
"It was a fucking dream; snap out of it."
"They were hurting Mila. They were trying to kill her," he continued still shaking convulsively.
"Mila is fine. Mila is far away from here and not hurt."
"They were hurting her, don't you understand?"
"Who the fuck can hurt a goddess? Fucking sleep, Erik."
"Other gods. She needs help, else she would not appear in my dreams and even in yours. You let your mark on her. You are obliged to protect her. How can you watch her suffering, you heartless monster?" said Erik delirious and angry.
"In my dream we were fucking and she was mighty fine. Snap out of it and fucking sleep."