III
Shivering, Frieda's eyelids fluttered open as she heard a strange rattling sound. Curled up on her side, her arms and legs pulled in close to her chest, Frieda groaned as she lifted her head a little and looked towards the cell door.
Through the window at the top of the door she could see someone outside when the rattling stopped and a loud clunk filled the room, making her jump. As she began to uncurl herself, the cold floor having frozen her limbs through to the bone, Frieda's entire body felt stiff and her stomach seemed to be gnawing on itself, when the door to her cell was flung open, banging loudly against the wall behind it.
The sunlight that poured in from outside was enough to blind her momentarily. Raising an aching arm to shield her gaze, Frieda squinted up at the guard stood in her doorway.
"Eat fast," The guard said in his native tongue which Frieda did not understand, before he flung something across the floor at her which clattered against the stone floor. Glancing quickly over his shoulder, he seemed to see something that worried him because in the next moment he had turned and hurried away.
Lowering her arm, Frieda looked at what he had thrown at her when she saw that it was a wooden bowl with food inside. Gasping, Frieda felt the inexplicable depth of her hunger begin to grip her entire being. It would have been paralysing if she could not already see her salvation.
Ignoring the pains in her arms and legs, she hurried across the room and grappled a hold of the bowl. There was no spoon but Frieda did not care as she dug her fingers into the white, lumpy sludge and hovelled it into her mouth. It burned her cold fingers but Frieda continued to scoop out handfuls of the liquid food, her body so ravenous that she sometimes missed her mouth in her haste.
The food began to warm her body from the inside, calming her unease, when the bowl was wrenched from her hands.
"No," Frieda exclaimed, looking up to see the towering body of the woman from yesterday stood before her. Her hair, which had been braided back, made her scalp look rounder than before and her lips were pulled back into a tight grimace as she stared down at Frieda in disgust.
Frieda was breathing heavy as she watched the girl dip her fingers into Frieda's bowl of food and begin to eat what remained. Frieda felt a surge of anger boil up within her as she watched this but she also felt frightened. This girl was nearly twice her size with shoulders that seemed to take up the entire width of the cell so Frieda remained knelt on the floor until the girl smiled down at her and Frieda felt the anger overtake the fear.
She had had her family and her home taken from her before she was forced to travel for weeks on meagre water and food supplies before she arrived here, where they branded her and took her dignity. And now this girl was taking her food when Frieda was close to dying from starvation.
"No!" Frieda yelled; she would not have something else taken from her. Pushing up off the floor, Frieda wrapped her arms around the girl's waist and tried to tackle her to the ground but the girl was planted to the floor like a tree and remained unmoved despite how much Frieda pushed.
Frieda felt the girl's stomach rumble against her shoulder as she began to laugh, the gritty and rough sound grating at Frieda's ears before she reached down and grabbed hold of Frieda's upper arm where she had been branded the day previous. Shouting out in pain, Frieda relinquished her hold and stepped back to look up and see the girl's thick fist swinging down towards her face.
A moment later a pain Frieda had never known before erupted across her jaw, making her eyes water. It felt as if her jaw had been broken when she opened her eyelids for a split second and saw the girl's fist returning once more. The second punch knocked Frieda to the ground as a blinding pain travelled up her nose and across the back of her eyes. Something wet gushed from Frieda's nose but she could not see what it was when she looked up and saw the girl begin to step towards her.
Whimpering, afraid of further pain, Frieda scurried back into the corner of the cell, raising her arms to shield herself when she heard an almighty roar from near the doorway.
"Charis!" A deep, guttural voice roared making the girl stop in her tracks.
Frieda kept her hands raised a little as she saw the girl's nose scrunch up in frustration, worried she would still attack. But she didn't. She turned towards the voice in the doorway and as she did so, Frieda managed to glimpse past her arm and see who had shouted. A part of her had been expecting a guard, but it wasn't a guard stood in the doorway of her cell. In fact, Frieda did not know who he was except that the girl who took Frieda's bowl was listening to him and that alone made Frieda in awe of him.
"You know the rules, Charis," The man growled, bent over a little so that he could fit in the doorway but behind him Frieda could see that other people had gathered around.
"What does it matter? She's weak, she won't last long," The girl waved back at Frieda manically.
Frieda looked between the two, wondering what they were talking about.
"It doesn't matter. We abide by the rules, it's all we have. Now give the bowl back," His voice was filled with warning which made the hairs on Frieda's arms rise up.
Charis did not move, her jaw clenching and unclenching in resentment, when Zeno stepped down into the cell menacingly. Charis saw the way his head almost brushed the top of the cell, his arms crossed dominantly over his broad chest as he arched an eyebrow at her.
"Give it back, Charis," Zeno told her one more time.
"Fine," Charis sighed, knowing that Zeno could put her through a wall with a flick of his wrist if he so desired. Turning back to Frieda, Charis took a step forward and scoffed at the pathetic girl cowering before her, blood dripping from her nose. Her large eyes looking back and forth between Charis and Zeno, not understanding a word they were saying.
Stretching out the bowl of food towards her, her nostrils flaring in anger, Charis waited until the girl had equally stretched out her hand to take it from her when Charis tipped the bowl upside down, emptying what little food was left onto the floor by her feet. Charis smiled when she the girl's eyes widen and her lips part in despair.
Charis heard Zeno sigh behind her as she turned and stalked past him and left, knocking his shoulder with hers as she did so. Zeno stared back at Charis with the usual uncertainty he felt towards her before he turned back to the newest arrival.
She was small, Zeno thought as he stared down at her huddled into the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees and her eyes shining with unshed tears. But she wasn't weak. She was the first new slave to stand up to Charis's thievery that Zeno could remember, and that alone made her brave, although he could already see the bruises forming where Charis's knuckles had hit her.
Frieda stared up at the man before her with uncertainty. He was tall, taller than any man she had known, with light brown hair that reached his shoulders and a small leather band fastened around his upper arm with the straps falling down to his elbow. He wore a tunic the colour of sand which reached his mid-thigh and matched his eyes.
Frieda did not know what to do when she heard her name being called from outside and when she looked she saw Eoghan leaping into her cell.
"Frieda, are you okay?" Eoghan hurried past the man stood in front of her and crouched beside her, his hands cradling her face gently, "What happened?"
Frieda opened her mouth to tell him when the other man spoke in their language.
"She is fine," Zeno strained, trying to remember what he had learnt.
Frieda stared up at him in surprise and confusion. For a moment she wondered if the girl's knock to her face had made her delirious but then she realised that he was speaking in their mother tongue. He knew their language.
"Charis wanted food," Zeno pointed to the upturned bowl at her feet.
Eoghan explained for her, "New arrivals get a bowl of food their first morning here, and it is a rule that the other slaves do not touch it."
"What about the other bowls of food we get?" Frieda asked, her brows furrowed in confusion.
"Amara will be back soon," Zeno interrupted, speaking slowly as he tried to get his tongue around the words.
"Who is Amara?" Frieda asked but that question seemed to confuse Zeno so he did not answer it, he simply repeated his previous line hoping that would explain.
"Eoghan, we go now," Zeno turned and walked towards the door.
"No," Frieda clutched at Eoghan's hands, "Do not leave me."
"I do not want-"
"-Eoghan," Zeno called him from the doorway.
Frieda stared at her friend with wide eyes, pleading with him to stay with her; she did not want to be alone. Reaching out his hand, Eoghan lifted the corner of her raggedy tunic and used it to wipe the blood from her nose.
"There," Eoghan gave her a small smile as he wiped as much blood as he could away but her mouth and chin still had a soft reddish hue from where it stained her flesh. Frieda smiled back a little although she did not feel like smiling.
"We have been summoned to work," Eoghan explained to her as he rose to his feet, "We must go."
Taking his offered hand, Frieda made sure to step over the spilt food as she followed him from the cell. The sunlight streaming in seemed to almost obliterate the entire doorway until the edges were blurry to her gaze. Stepping outside, Frieda squinted against the light as she felt the floor warm the bottom of her feet.
As her eyes adjusted to the brightness, Frieda was once more confronted with the fact that she was not in Britannica and this was not all a bad dream. Looking around her, Frieda saw the bodies of dozens of other people all watching her as they shuffled past when her eyes fell over Charis's form leant against the wall. The pain in Frieda's nose flared as she saw her, as did Frieda's anger.
"Let's go," Eoghan tugged at her hand, pulling her left and away from Charis.
* * *
The work she had to do, Frieda soon found out, was house slave to the man that had bought her from the market. She caught glimpses of him as he moved about his house, talking to other people, before she would slip on the marble floor. As she stood for the third time the other girls gave her annoyed glances at her feebleness. No one spoke to her the entire day as Eoghan and the other men were off in the gardens.
When the others left around midday and she followed, Frieda's fingers were red raw from the scrubbing and it felt as if every muscle in her body ached. Walking back through the gardens and courtyards and under covered walkways, the ground soon turned from polished stone to uneven rocky sand which hurt her bare feet before she turned a corner and found herself back at the cells. It felt as if she was trapped inside a small city, and everywhere she turned there were high walls blocking them in.
As she ambled towards her cell, intent on curling up in the corner, Frieda looked around for any sign of Eoghan but she couldn't see him. Instead she saw that the men and women slaves were now dotted around their small courtyard, muttering to each other as they looked towards the centre of the patch of grass.
Turning her head, Frieda slowed to a stop as she saw two men rolling about on the ground. She saw that the man on top, whose black hair stuck to his face from sweat, had his arm wrapped around the throat of the man beneath him and his legs hooked around his waist holding him immobile. Frieda watched in horror as the man being choked grappled at the other man's arm, his face growing a strange colour as he tried to push him off.
Frieda thought he was going to kill him when the smaller man held up his hands in surrender and the other released him, jumping to his feet as a slow applaud erupted around them. The man that was being choked remained on the ground, retching. Frieda was so caught up watching it that she did not hear someone approach until a voice suddenly spoke from beside her, causing Frieda to jump back in surprise.
"Whoa," A hand reached out and caught her arm to steady her.
Frieda stared at the firm hand on her arm, transfixed by the black ink which decorated the skin. The pattern was all hard angles and sharp lines which trailed from the knuckles up over the back of their hand before trailing halfway up their forearm.
"You are the new girl that hit Charis," The voice said, dropping their hand as Frieda regained her balance.
"She attacked me first-" Frieda began to argue, shooting her head up to look at the owner of the decorated arm, when her lips paused upon seeing how beautiful they were. Tall, with a wide amused smile on her lips, Frieda was captivated by the flaming red colour of her hair, which had been braided back at the top before the rest was allowed to run free over her shoulders.
It took Frieda a moment to remember that she had understood what this girl had been saying to her.
"Are you from Britannica too?" Frieda stared into the woman's sparkling green eyes.
"No," The woman's smile softened in sympathy and Frieda bowed her head a little. She had been hoping to meet other kinsmen, to console her that she was not alone, but so far she had found none.
"But I knew someone who had been, and they taught me your language." The girl explained, "My name is Amara."
Frieda raised her head slowly, "Amara?" Zeno had said that name.
"Zeno told me about what Charis did. I am sorry, but it is something that will happen a lot."
"Why?" Frieda frowned, her voice cracking a little, "I do not understand what is happening. Why am I here?"
Amara's lips pulled into a straight line as she turned Frieda to look back into the centre of the courtyard where the smaller man was handing a small parcel to his attacker.
"What is that?" Frieda asked.
"Food," Amara told her, "We fight each other for food. It is merely scraps, but that is how we survive."
"But we get given food," Frieda looked back up at Amara, "don't we?"
Amara shook her head softly as Frieda turned to look back at the two men in a confused daze, "Every new slave gets one good meal their first morning, and it is a rule we created that no one should try and take it."
"So where does the food come from? And why have we got to fight?" Frieda asked, "We are house slaves, aren't we?"
Amara's silence unsettled Frieda so she turned to look at her properly and that was when she spotted the dagger at her waist.
Amara caught her staring at it and raised her hand to cover it from her gaze so that she would look back up at her instead, "We are not house slaves. Domitius bought us for the arena."
"A- Arena?" Frieda frowned, speaking carefully for she had not heard this word before.
"It is a place where people fight one another for their masters," Amara said, "Domitius is now your master; that is his brand upon your arm. It is the same one that is on mine," Amara patted the top of her arm where, beneath the fabric of her elbow-length sleeve, rested the mark.
Raising her hand Frieda hovered her fingers over her own brand; she could still feel the warmth coming from it, when a more terrifying thought entered her head, "But . . . But I cannot fight. I do not want to fight."
"You will learn, you will have to," Amara told her. Frieda shuffled back a little as if that could stop what she was saying from being true. Frieda could not fight.
"Domitius and his guards watch us and if they think you have been fighting well then they will give you food," Amara said.
"And what if I don't fight?" Frieda said, looking up at her, "What if I refuse?"
Amara's frown smoothed out atop her brow, "Then they will set you to work somewhere far worse."
"What could be worse than this?" Frieda exclaimed but Amara just stared at her, her silence saying more than words could. Frieda swallowed to relieve the dryness in her throat, "The food . . . will the others not fight us for it?" She asked.
"Yes, they will," Amara nodded, "And you must try to stop them, or else they will try and kill you."
Frieda's eyes stung and her chest felt as if it were about to explode, "This is madness." She was going to die here, Frieda realised. She could not fight, she was weak. Charis had not moved an inch when Frieda tried to tackle her earlier, and she had put all of her strength into that.
"Domitius believes that making us fight over something which we need for our survival will make us stronger fighters," Amara said, to which Frieda made an alarmed face to, "It also helps him to save coin on trainers." Amara added dryly.
Frieda and Amara fell into silence for a moment as Frieda learnt the details of her new life, her eyes wandering around the courtyard before they fell upon Charis in the distance watching them. Frieda looked away just as quickly, her mind overwhelmed as she imagined Charis's arm around her neck, just like the two men had been fighting, strangling her to death over a piece of bread.
"Well, I won't do it," Frieda told Amara, "I will not fight for this man who thinks because he bought me from men who destroyed my home and killed my family that I am his to do with as he pleases. I will not fight for his amusement."
Amara's beautiful face became taut and constrained as she listened to Frieda's words, "I pray for your sake that you change your mind quickly."
Frieda clenched her jaw, trying to remain steadfast as he parents would have wanted, when she heard another voice call out from behind her.
"Amara!" The voice called and Frieda turned just as Amara brushed past her, hurrying towards the towering form of Zeno who was running towards them, a smile across his lips. Frieda watched the two embrace, their lips finding one another fiercely. Averting her gaze, Frieda looked past them and saw Eoghan trudging behind.
"Eoghan," Frieda's mood brightened immensely as she hurried over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his chest. Eoghan curled one arm around her shoulders as he rested his other hand on the back of her head.
"Have you heard?" Frieda spoke into his chest, "That we have to fight?"
"Yes, but do not worry," He added in a whisper as he pulled back to look into her eyes, "We are not staying here."
Frieda frowned, "What do you mean?"
Eoghan cupped her face gently, "It means that we are escaping."
Frieda could see his eyes burning fiercely as he spoke of it and she knew he meant it, but could also see the apprehension. As they looked at each other, Frieda thought about everything Amara said and she knew she had to do this. She would not survive here, and she needed to find her sister. In that moment she made her decision so, resting her head back against his chest, she agreed.
"You and me," Frieda told him.
"Always" Eoghan murmured as he brushed her hair back, his heart beating a little steadier as he knew that she was with him.