Tancorix

By Jim Wayne

A native Briton, Tancorix is captured and sent to Rome as a slave, to become a gladiatrix.
During her time in fighting exhibitions, she longs to win her freedom and return home.
She wins her freedom on the same day she discovers her sister, long thought dead, is also a gladiatrix, and she has no interest in returning home. Both base their decisions on the fallout from the actions of their far more famous mother: Boudica.
The Fates, being what they are, lead the pair to discover how little they really understood about what went on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Martian Publishing
• Release date: May 11, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463155585

Book preview

TANCORIX

by Jim Wayne

MARTIAN PUBLISHING

Copyright © 2018 by Martian Publishing Company

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

No portion of this volume may

be reproduced in any format

without the express written

permission of the copyright holder.

This is a work of fiction.

Any resemblance to persons or

organizations, living or extinct,

is entirely coincidental.

CHAPTER ONE

Sunlight seeped into the small, ragged stone passageway, knifing through the small vertical spaces between the rough wooden planks of the door. The press of bodies behind her in the close quarters was more than enough to bring on a sweat but this accompanied by the warmth radiating from the sunny arena beyond the door with its further array of closely pressed bodies in the stands caused the temperature to climb even more.

Tancorix was used to this waiting and the growing warmth. Her skin glistened with the oil that had been rubbed into her arms, her breasts, and her legs. The oil served the dual purpose of helping seal any wounds that might come as well as reflect the muscular movements of the warriors to the further enjoyment of the crowds. Beads of sweat dripped from her scalp and she felt another coursing down her inner thigh. She closed her eyes to gain focus and put these minor annoyances beyond her perception.

The low murmuring of voices from the other women in the close space ebbed and flowed as the minutes stretched out. In one of the lulls in the low voices, she heard one distinct word: Belatucado.

Her eyes came open slowly. Did she hear that name or had she simply imagined it, somehow hearing her own prayer in her head? Slowly she looked around, over the left shoulder and then the right, but she could not make out who had spoken. She ignored the questioning eyes, the scowling features, wandering at her twisting and craning to see everyone; some merely curious: what is she up to?

Though she had trained with three of these women, this particular festival was featuring female warriors from three different gladiatorial schools and the eight participants from those other schools were all strangers to her. It had been years since she had met another slave from Britannia but the name echoing in her head could only mean there was another such here.

Beyond the gate, she could hear the announcement for their performance. The footsteps of the Games Master were heard drawing closer across the grit on the floor of the arena. She had only a few moments. Since her eyes are useless in this search for a fellow countrywoman, she opened her mouth and called out in her native tongue: Who calls on the Green One?

She glanced around at the faces again. All she got for the effort was a puzzled look. The words would have been meaningless to all except the speaker. That is, if it had not been her imagination, after all.

All was silence but for the approaching steps and the beginnings of the audience clamoring for the next spectacle to begin. No one answered her entreaty.

The clank of the metal latch being lifted brought her out of her thoughts and a moment later the door was flung open. The brightness clubbed her senses painfully. Squinting against the sudden glare, Tancorix pulled the helm out from under her arm and trotted out into the arena still squinting as she pulled the metal piece onto her head.

Finding her countrywoman would have to wait until after the martial display.

If both of them survived, of course.

Hundreds of spectators cheered as the dozen women ranged out across the arena floor. It was early afternoon and many of the seats were empty. As she took her position on the martial stage she was not surprised at the attendance. Many had left after the lions finished eating the slaves and might not return until the main event of the day: the late afternoon gladiatorial bouts with the muscular men.

Women in the arena were not unheard of but they were not nearly as numerous as the male fighters. They were more of a novelty act, these modern females wearing the guise of the anciently feared Amazons, and the more recently feared warring queen of the north: Boudica.

The thought brought no comfort, nor any discomfort. She was now in her element and the event was about to start. Weeks of rehearsal were now put to the ultimate test: an exhibition. But even in an exhibition, accidents happened. Better to put all other thoughts, even the mention of the Green One, out of her mind until after they were safely back in the dressing rooms.

Ready, Arigala?

The other woman grinned and nodded in response. As ready as you, Tancorix. They both bent their knees slightly, shields and swords raised and ready. When all the pairs of women stood ready, the word was given by the Games Master and the six pairs went into motion. The clanking of steel on steel, steel on leather, was soon drowned out by the noise of the crowd encouraging the ones they had chosen as their favorites or cheering over some remarkable display of martial skill.

Tancorix grinned to herself. What they mainly wanted to see was blood, of course, but only some gross error would result in that. Diodorus had trained them too long and hard, invested too much money in their instruction, to have it end so stupidly. Yes, there were times when gladiators died in the arena but that was the exception rather than the rule. Fight hard, give the people a good show, and walk safely from the arena. That was her master's first – and only – rule for his troupe.

The rigorous moves had been carefully practiced again and again, week after week, but even that care could not guarantee the display would be free from accident or injury. Her partner attacked with a flurry of overhand chops with the sword and, shield raised to deflect them, she rolled sidewise on the ground away from the assault, coming back to her feet with a little breathing room. She was rewarded with a few cheers from the crowd. She grinned again.

Fortunately, the pairs of fighters were far enough apart that she was in no danger of interfering with the others – something that could not be practiced with any degree of certainty before the actual event. The match continued.

Striking, parrying, blocking with her shield, the dance continued. She heard the audience react to something and realized it was not her fight that was drawing the attention. Probably the dark-skinned warrior who went by the name Medusa, who fought with an ax. An impressive weapon in the hands of a very impressive woman; tall, oiled skin glistening like ebony, and very athletic.

Her own display with sword and shield was probably boring against the display that one was giving. Still, she continued doing what she was trained to do. She was about to begin her furious assault on her partner when there rose a cheer from the crowd. She could not turn her head to see what brought it on but it soon came into her line of sight: a female warrior on a chariot, coursing around the edge of the arena.

The charioteer gave a strange battle-cry while racing around the pairs of fighters as though she commanded her troops to fight harder.

Tancorix rose onto the balls of her feet and swung her sword high overhead in a wide arc to come down on Arigala. She had to delay a split second in the swing to allow the girl time to escape past her with a somersault. During practice, this tricky maneuver had resulted in an injury when she had caught the girl's foot. Fortunately they had been using wooden slats rather than real swords and the injury amounted to no more than a bruise and a few splinters. Not so, today, and any bloodletting was avoided.

She turned to face Arigala in this new position when it happened: the woman lost control of the chariot. She cried out and fell from it to the ground, the horse shying off track and careening into the nearest pair of fighters.

The tall fighter, Medusa, was hit from behind, crashing to the ground with the ax flying out of her hands to skitter across the bare earth. Fortunately, it was the horse that collided with her and thus pushed her out of the course of the far more dangerous chariot. Adding to the confusion, Medusa's attendant, Ariadne, rushed from the tunnel to see if Medusa was all right.

Someone had to stop the careening vehicle or far more serious damage was bound to occur. Without thinking, Tancorix dropped her sword and sprinted for the empty chariot. Muscles, well-trained, rippled in the sunlight as she aimed to cut off the next circuit of the arena. From the corner of her eye, she saw another woman doing the same. She pushed her legs harder, not needing another woman inexperienced with a chariot creating even more havoc. At least she knew what she was doing.

Her path allowed the horse to fly past, and her arm stretched out, angling for the body of the war-wagon. Just before her hand closed on the gilded wooden frame, she lunged forward, hoping to keep from dislocating her shoulder.

Her grip caught hold of the metal railing and almost slipped free as the forward thrust of the beast wrenched her arm powerfully. Though one hand struggled to keep its purchase, her other hand soon arrived on the rail to steady her position. Her foot, barely on the riding platform, was kept from sliding off.

Holding the sides a moment to catch her breath, and offer some comfort to her aching shoulder, she looked for the reins. They had fallen loose from their guides and she was forced to lean forward over the front of the cab to grab them up from a position far too close to the beast's rear hooves to allow for even the slightest careless move.

When she had the reins firmly in hand, she directed the horse into a circuit closer to the wall, away from the women of the exhibition. The crowd cheered. She rode twice around the arena, waving to the crowd as if the entire episode had been a part of the show.

She slowed the chariot on the next approach. Stopping beside the Games Master, she hopped down and surrendered the reins to him. The other woman who had charged after the careening vehicle stood nearby, hands on hips.

When I saw you racing for the chariot, I saw only further mayhem resulting. But you seem to have been trained in its use.

Tancorix laughed. That was what I was thinking as well. I was unsure if you would know what to do. It gave me that extra burst to gain the chariot.

The Games Master had handed off the horse to an assistant and came over to check on the pair. How are the two of you?

They looked at each other and nodded. Fine, Tancorix said.

It seems to me a wonder that nothing evil occurred. He grunted. It was stupid to have two women practiced in the chariot and the fool puts a novice in the act. Was he trying to get someone killed?

The exhibition had dissolved by this time, the pairs having stopped to watch the disaster unfolding in the chariot escapade. Tancorix headed back toward Arigala to resume the match, but the Games Master was already signaling the next act to prepare and waved for the women to exit the arena. Medusa was being helped from the field by her attendant and the other women followed along toward the exit back to the dressing rooms.

Tancorix turned to the girl she had beaten to the chariot, noting the auburn hair cropped short and the piercing blue eyes. She had the proper coloration to have been a tribal cousin, but was she the one who had mentioned the Green One?

I am Helena, Tancorix said, using her performing name. The Romans found too many of the provincial names to be unpronounceable so the trainer had given them all better, more acceptable, names.

Helena, the other repeated. And my name is Amazonia.

The crowd had begun cheering which impeded her hearing. To her ears the other's accent seemed familiar.

She looked around at the audience and glanced around the arena. The next act had not appeared yet. What are they yelling about?

The other woman looked up at the cheering masses, a grin spreading across her face. Don't look now, Helena, but I believe you are going to win your freedom for that little stunt of yours.

Tancorix stared at her and turned to the crowds, her mouth falling open. It seemed to cause the people to scream even louder. At the far end of the arena, a man stood and raised his arms for quiet. This was the magistrate in charge of the event and he quickly got the silence he wanted.

Gladiatrix! He pointed at her. Come forward!

She started across the dirt, hesitantly at first then broke into a trot. The blood had rushed to her face and she thought she might cool the flush if she sprinted the distance. The action caused the screaming to recommence.

Reaching the wall just below the magistrate, she looked up. He once again signaled for quiet.

When it had again become possible to speak, he raised his hands and spoke. Citizens! By the courageous display of martial feats we have witnessed this afternoon, I exercise my right in granting freedom to this slave. He bent to his chair and picked up a small rod of his office and held it up for the crowd to admire. They cheered again while he leaned forward and dropped it to the woman.

Tancorix caught it with one hand and nodded her thanks to the magistrate.

His voice came again from above. I don't know how you women practiced that chariot escapade, but it was brilliant!

Practice, hell, she thought. Several people almost got killed because of that bit of spontaneous grandstanding. She turned to run back toward her comrades when the man's voice came again, the words were drowned out by the cheering but the small bag he tossed toward her was perfectly obvious. Of course! The prize money.

She bent down and hefted the pouch. The prize winnings was the goal of every competitor here. A hefty sum, for sure, but secondary to the greater prize: her freedom! She looked upward, squinting against the Sun, to bow again to the magistrate. Then she turned and ran back to their portal, waving the ceremonial rod, and the cheering continued unabated until after she had disappeared from their view.

Arigala greeted her with a hug. Congratulations! Your freedom!

She returned the grin. Yes, though I cannot imagine old Longinus is going to be as pleased with losing a member of the troupe. They moved along the corridor to the dressing area, where they could remove their fighting outfits.

Most of the fighters had already shed their armor and gone to the baths by the time Tancorix and her companion entered the dressing area. Amazonia was still there, preparing for her bath. A long scar was apparent along her waistline from near the navel and curving a few inches up her left side.

Tancorix nodded toward the scar. Did you get that in the arena?

Glancing down, Amazonia shook her head. No that was from long ago.

Before the arena? Arigala grunted. Woman, what sort of a life did you lead before this?

Interesting enough, I'll wager. She shed the last of her clothing and headed for the baths, chuckling a little.

She's an interesting one, Arigala said, shaking her head. Then she stared at her friend. So, what happens now, girl? Do you have plans?

Tancorix sat on a bench and began removing her leathers. I think I'll go back home. She hefted the coin pouch again. If I have enough funds, that is. I really don't know how much it will cost and… She shrugged. I will need funds to survive on after getting there.

Think you'll find someone in your old tribe to marry?

The warrior stared ahead, resting her elbows on her knees. I do not know if any of my tribe is even alive. The Romans took a dim view of our rebellion.

Arigala shrugged. That's where most of the female warriors come from, you know. Conquered tribes seem to have many woman warriors. Since the Romans find it odd, they enjoy watching us fight in the arena.

I dare say, Tancorix laughed, they prefer seeing us fighting here rather than on the battlefield. Even some of the most hardened soldiers have a little trouble fighting a woman. She stood to unlace her sandal, resting her foot on the bench while her hands unwound the leather thongs. Though most seem to have no trouble knocking them around.

Arigala grunted as she removed her leather wristguards. You mean, raping them.

Of course. Tancorix removed her other sandal, dropped it on her other possessions and bent to scoop them up. She headed for the baths.

Watching her go, Arigala wondered why she took her clothes into the baths. Then she remembered the pouch of the winnings. She grinned. If that had been her prize, it would have remained firmly tied to her waist.

Arigala was the last to enter the bathing area, after the first of the fighters had already gotten out and moved into the tepidarium.

Warm vapor curled upward from the surface of the water while Tancorix spoke with Felicita about the status of her fighting partner, Medusa.

She seems to be doing well enough, the girl was saying, Diodorus and Ariadne are attending to her at present. She ascended the steps and left for the tepid room as well.

Arigala passed her, descending into the water with Tancorix and the other young woman called Amazonia. So, Medusa will survive?

I'll say! Tancorix laughed, the sound echoing in the chamber with the sounds of water splashing. It will take more than getting knocked down by a horse to stop the likes of that goddess.

Amazonia came closer. Yes, she is quite a warrior. Have you been with her long? I have never seen another like her.

Not so long, Tancorix shrugged. "I've been fighting for almost eight years and she joined us…