The last of the sunlight was streaked imperial purple across the sky as a servant laid two more cups of wine on the stone-topped mensa that perched on the balcony. The two men on either side of the table would never have been friends in any ordinary set of circumstances. The older, dressed in rich fabrics from far reaches of the Empire, sipped his wine and watched a distant raptor drift overhead.
“An eagle!” he remarked to his companion, a plainly-dressed man in his thirties who was looking contemplatively into his clay wine-cup. “A good omen for… oh, something, I suppose. The Imperial bird, eh!” He raised his cup in salute to the hovering speck.
The younger man didn’t look up from his drink. “A buzzard. No eagles in these parts, master Fidelis. I would have thought you would have known that by now,” he said, not without good humour. He took a drink. “Good wine, though.”
“Hm. I suppose you’re right. Looking a bit closer, it does seem the wrong sort of shape,” said Fidelis, squinting, a little put out. “Well, you know, I have lots more important things to deal with than the local bird species, my boy. These mighty finances don’t manage themselves!” he said, with an infectious laugh that echoed off the distant mountains. When his companion didn’t join in as usual, Fidelis’ expression turned serious, his mouth compressed into a thin shadow. “Is something wrong, Decius?”
Decius smiled and shook his head. “Nothing. A silly old soldier’s superstition,” he said.
“Ah, but you are far from an old soldier,” said Fidelis. “Silly?” he pulled a face and Decius laughed. “I doubt that very much as well. I’m sure your old soldiers’ superstitions are as true as any Oracle.”
Sensing that the time was coming to change the subject, Decius cleared his throat. “We had another injury in training last week,” he said. “He’ll recover, but he’ll be out of action for a while. Fell off a platform. Other than that, the new recruits are very promising. Master Probus says they’ll make a decent lot which, coming from him, means they’d probably be enough to overthrow the Emperor in a few week’s time.” Decius noted the aghast expression on master Fidelis’ face and checked himself. “Not that they would ever do that. Or that you would ever order it.” He kicked himself. He wasn’t among soldiers up here, nor even gladiators. He ought to be used to it by now.
“Quite right,” said Fidelis. “How is morale down in the ludus? The new bakery is sufficient?”
The new bakery. Decius had brought complaints of toothache from the gladiators-in-training, connected it with the hard, gritty bread that was carted in from the town, and in response Gaius Flavinius Fidelis had bought the bakery and completely turned over the staff. Of course, it hadn’t purely been motivated by kindness. Toothless, wincing gladiators didn’t make a good show, and they certainly wouldn’t attract the wealthy sponsors that were where the real money was made. No, the type of gladiators Fidelis aimed to cultivate were specimens like Decius himself: handsome, well-muscled warriors who knew how to put on a show. For that reason the Aurea Valle gladiators rarely fought past first blood, if even that. They were sportsmen, first and foremost. Let the other ludi build their fortunes on snarling killers.
“The new bakery,” said Decius. “Is more than sufficient, and much appreciated-”
The servant girl burst out of the villa’s door, completely forgetting her decorum.
“Girl!” said Fidelis. “Where are your manners?” Even then, he seemed more amused than angry. Perhaps the wine had something to do with it. Decius noted that his cup was once again empty. The young woman bowed her head.
“Apologies, master Fidelis, only there’s a man to see you. He said it was extremely urgent.”
Fidelis rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it is, my dear. I’ll go and see to this,” he commented to Decius. “Have the boy bring us some more wine if he comes by.”
Decius nodded, and watched as the old man limped into the house. The darkening sky meant he disappeared from view some way before he reached the door. A lurching feeling came over Decius, a feeling that the bad omen he had observed earlier was coming to pass. Or maybe it was just the wine.
Legally, he was a slave under master Fidelis. He hadn’t always been. In happier times, he had been a soldier. Then, a mercenary. Now, a gladiator. He had volunteered himself for the school when it first opened, and taken to the games like a duck to water. Not that he got to do a lot of fighting these days. A string of victories in his early career had launched him to no small status in the province, and he had nearly been purchased by wealthy citizens everywhere from Messina to Turin. In the end though, he had no particular desire to leave the town, which suited Fidelis just fine. So Decius’ role had gone from active to broadly administrative. He was the intermediary between the villa and the ludus itself, those times when Fidelis was too busy.
He finished his wine and watched the last streaks of daylight fade from the sky. He got up and headed for the entrance to the villa, leaving the cups on the mensa for the servants to clean up.

Inside the villa the waxy light of candles flickered over every surface. On the other side of the atrium, Fidelis stood with another man speaking in low tones. He looked up as Decius approached, a forced smile creasing his face.
“Decius, my dear boy. Leaving already?” he said jovially, though his eyes told a different story. Decius nodded, and Fidelis shook his hand. “Well, it was very good to catch up. Do come by again soon,” he said emphatically.
As Decius walked towards the front door he heard, just above a whisper, Fidelis say “and how much lost?”

Decius walked out of the front door of the house into the courtyard. He looked left. He looked right. Then he sidled over to the stable door and pulled it open. It was dark inside. “There you are,” said the servant girl who had forgotten her manners.
“Hello Camelia,” Decius said, smiling. They embraced, kissed, and made their way past the horses to their customary hiding place in the hayloft.
“I hope that stable boy isn’t going to make a nuisance of himself again,” Decius remarked.
“Don’t worry,” said Camelia, with a laugh that sounded like a small songbird. “I’ve taken care of that little business.” She noted the concern on Decius’ face, and frowned. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“The message that that man had for master Fidelis. Did he say anything about it?”
“Only that he had come from the East to bring the message,” said Camelia. “And that the master would want to hear it as soon as possible.”
Decius cursed. “He had a deal in the East. It was supposed to be an enormous investment.”
“Did you hear something of it?” asked Camelia. Decius told her what little he had heard. “Perhaps what was lost was only a small part of it?” she said hopefully. Decius said nothing, and held her closer.

The next morning, he and Camelia woke early and slipped out of the stables under cover of darkness. They went their separate ways, she to her quarters, he down the path that lead to the ludus. Waiting there at the gate for him was a dark-haired half-Gaul called Tertius.
“There you are, you dog,” said Tertius, grinning. He clapped Decius’ shoulder amiably. “How are the master’s serving-girls keeping warm in these long, cold nights?”
Decius laughed. “I take it I was missed at yesterday’s spar?” he said.
“You were, my friend. But you have an opportunity to make it up now.”

Decius didn’t hear from the villa for several days after that. On the eve of the fifth day, however, he caught wind of some gossip that chilled his blood. He crossed the half-mile to the villa without thinking about it and hammered his club-like fist on the wood of the door. After a second, a servant opened it, and Decius swept in with confidence borne of anger.
Valentinian! He knew the name of old.
Fidelis was eating at a long table, alone, when Decius found him.
“Ah, my boy. Do sit. Have a grape,” said the old man.
“To hell with your grapes,” said Decius, and then felt quite silly. “What I mean is, I have more important matters to discuss than grapes.”
“I know what you meant. When one gets to my age, one realises that few causes are worth depriving yourself of a good grape.” Fidelis popped one into his mouth as he said this.
“You’re selling us off,” Decius said, accusingly. Master Fidelis nodded.
“Oh, yes. I’ve lost a lot of money quite unexpectedly, and the ludus is just too much of an expense. Terribly sad. The deal’s already been negotiated, so I’m afraid if you came up here to talk me out of it you’ve wasted your time.”
“To Valentinian,” said Decius.
“Marcus Livius Valentinian very successfully operates one gladiator school already. Selling to him seems a natural choice, no?”
“No!” said Decius. “You don’t hear how the men speak of him. I’ve met gladiators who trained at Valentinian’s ludus. He’s a cruel, bloodthirsty man! I heard he once had one of his gladiators burned alive for losing a tournament!” He was standing directly over the old man now, his towering frame almost completely shadowing the bowed figure.
“Decius. I understand. I do. Don’t worry,” said Fidelis. “You’ve served me well. I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch like this.” He skewered a piece of fruit and munched it thoughtfully. “I’m going to make you a free man.”
Decius was stunned. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Could he have heard right?
“Oh, close your mouth, man!” Fidelis said. “Know a good thing when you see it and accept!”
“You think it’s that easy?” said Decius quietly.
“What?”
“You think I’ll stop caring about Valentinian’s methods if I don’t have to suffer them? That I can just ignore that devil as he tortures my friends?” Decius snatched up Fidelis’ wine-cup and hurled it at the wall, splashing deep red liquid over the painted plaster.
“Then you reject my offer,” said Fidelis carefully. Decius nodded. “Get out of my house, serpens. I am a very forgiving person. I am led to believe Marcus Valentinian is not. He arrives tomorrow.”

The next day, a letter was delivered to the ludus from Valentinian, along with a messenger to read it. He had arrived. However, the business of establishing himself in the villa was more time-consuming than anticipated and he had elected to remain there to manage proceedings. He was very excited, even so, to put into place his new scheme to refine the Aurea Valle into a formidable school among the highest in the Empire.
“And as the first move in this great game,” the messenger read to the massed gladiators, “I intend to trim the fat of your great school. Master Fidelis is a great man, a friend of mine, but he lacks the steel it takes to build a truly formidable fighter. Train well, gladiators, for a dozen of my finest warriors are on their way here for a grand tournament. And like all great games, this one will be played – to the death!”