House Cintius

By Justin Chasteen

When Julia Cintius became a widow, she also became the head of a rising gladiator house in Rome. Julia had been treated poorly as a wife: ignored, insulted, and undesired by her late husband, only to be useful when hosting magistrates and senators at one of her husband’s lavish parties. But when her husband dies, Julia discovers he has left behind one thing she can wear proudly: power.
Now, under Lady Julia's command, there are no slaves in House Cintius; her gladiators — the very men who made House Cintius so revered — are given the choice to swear their allegiance to House Cintius as freedmen. They fight for fame and glory but not without reward. And in House Cintius, rewards come in a number of forms.
Magnus had lived a half-dozen lives: soldier, slave, champion, hero, freedman. When Lady Cintius freed him after the death of her husband, Magnus elected to continue as doctore, a gladiator trainer. But the real reason he’d stayed was not for the men, the glory, or the coin — it was his hatred for Lady Cintius herself. His hatred made him feel more alive than anything else since his days as champion of Capua Arena. But Magnus would soon find out that hatred slithered very close to another emotion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Jul 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781094412153

Justin Chasteen

N/A

Book preview

Part 1: The Domina

My lady, more wine?

Julia Cintius held out her late husband’s chalice, previously used only by him at his lavish parties, when she was no more than a slave-in-perfume herself. Now, she drank from that same chalice every afternoon while watching the gladiators spar in the training sands. She reveled in the sounds of their wooden swords knocking, their sweat beading in the sand, the way they stopped and erected their posture when she approached; this was one of her favorite ways to revitalize after a light lunch..

One for you, as well, Camilla.

My lady, I cannot match you drink for drink.

Julia scrunched her brow and turned to Camilla. Tell me. Do you defy me because of who I am or simply because you do not desire more? Or… is it that you do not like the wine?

My lady, no! I am forever grateful. To be free, yet still in your care… so few slaves….

Julia tipped her empty chalice back and forth with each word as she spoke, "We. Do. Not. Use. That. Word. In. This. House."

Apologies, Lanista. I meant to say… our situation seldom has such a favorable outcome. I am forever willing in your service.

Julia observed Camilla, who only called her Lanista when she had exhausted her dialogue and became nervously confused. A lanista, owner and trader of slave gladiators, was what Julia’s husband had been — not who she ever was. Instead, Julia insisted on being called my lady if her attendants and gladiators refused to use her actual name. But her precious Camilla had such a hard time in the beginning adapting to the equal lifestyle of a freedwoman.

Such beauty Camille had, especially in the afternoon sunlight. It wasn’t lost on Julia how the male attendants and gladiators gawked as Camilla floated around House Cintius with her duties, and she noticed how her dear Camilla blushed when their champion gladiator, Cronus, was near. She glowed like a goddess and had only flourished with freedom, her cheekbones high and sharp, yet turned pudgy and innocent when she smiled.

Until recently, Julia had never seen her smile… or the smiles of any of the freedmen and freedwomen she held so dear. But why would they have smiled? They had once been slaves. And each had their turns being beaten and worse by her husband — may Tartarus himself oversee his eternal torture. But since his sudden death, Julia had freed all slaves, even the gladiators.

In her husband’s wake, Julia had often felt what it was to have nothing, even when having many riches. She was insulted, ignored, unloved, and only ever displayed as having value when visiting magistrates or senators sought their talent in throwing parties.

After her husband’s death, many around the court whispered about the wife who had poisoned the great Gaius Plutonus Cintius, but it was all false. He drank himself to death and burst like a weak keg of wine. Well, he didn’t actually burst, but she liked to fantasize that he did. Truly, his swift death was a blessing, because he would have sold the Ludus before ever leaving it to his wife.

Julia adjusted her stole; the damn silk robe stuck to her skin in such heat. I will always appreciate how you keep all the other girls in line, she continued, smiling at Camilla. "It makes the taxes of my mind much lighter. I only tease and spoil you because I love you, Camilla. You work hard, and you hold no resentment toward me for what he did."

My lady, how could I ever? You gave me my freedom, Camilla said, as she poured more wine into the chalice.

Julia wondered if they truly felt free. The servants did the same tasks as before, but they were given better living conditions, healthier meals, and coin each week. And they could come and go as they pleased outside of their working hours. Was it easy to let go of such mistreatment for the chance to simply earn a living?

Alas, Julia pondered too much about the past. She had House Cintius to run and thirty very, very hungry gladiators to see to.

She sipped Setinum, her wine of choice. The taste of it, even a bit warmer than she preferred, was transcendent. She possessed the few kegs left in the world, thanks to that fool, Nero, who ordered the vineyard destroyed so he could build a damn ship canal. So, Julia made sure to save the wine for herself and close friends — parties would have other wine options.

Camilla, we are three weeks out from hosting the senator and his many guests. Are all deliveries on schedule?

Yes, my lady.

Musicians hired?

Yes, my lady. Even the lyrist you like.

Lucas is in town?!

Yes, only for the season.

"Well, at least we will have his humor, because it’s going to be one of those parties, Julia said. Sex downstairs and dry conversation upstairs. So, make sure the food stays upstairs. I would double the supply of wine downstairs — and do not forget to leave masks in various baskets upstairs. Anonymity is very important, but by now, I assume you know how it all works."

Julia had been around this house and hosted parties for magistrates and senators long enough to know how things worked. The guest host would say it was to treat his friends to an evening of fine wine and business, but half the guests would huddle in groups and plot against the other half. By the end of the night, most of the men and women would end up downstairs with a mask on. It was clear to everyone — the catering staff, her personal attendants, gladiators, the hired musicians, and the guests — those wearing masks were open to anything, whether it be sexual activity in private or public.

But a mask did not mean yes. If someone — man, woman, guest, or hired whore — clearly stated they did not wish for a specific person to engage, there would be no arguing. Many senators didn’t like the idea of being told no by a whore, but these were Julia’s rules, and they would be followed. Furthermore, although whores were there to make money, they had limits imposed on them as well. Those not wearing masks were not permitted downstairs. It was that simple: No sampling without partaking.

Provisions should start arriving next week, Camilla continued. The food and….

A sudden shout brought Julia to her feet. From what she could see in the far corner of the sands, a man had taken to his knee, grunting in agony. This was not uncommon, as these gladiators had to be trained to kill or be killed, and the fact that none had left when she freed them only made her feel more in debt to

Reviews for House Cintius

[Mandy Slaven · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Justin Chasteen did a wonderful job in the writing and flow of this book. House Cintius is a fast and easy read with each chapter written in the view of a different character. I am looking forward to reading more of Justin's work as he makes you feel as if you are sitting with the characters you are reading about.