As Sure as the Dawn (29 page)

Atretes gave a brittle laugh and drained the goblet of wine. “Had I time and opportunity, it would’ve been my pleasure.”

Rizpah looked at him and saw he meant it.

“So why did you leave in such a hurry?”

“He’d found a way to force me back into the arena.” His gaze flickered pointedly to the woman and child.

“And you think it’ll be different here?”

Her heart began beating wildly.

“Meaning?” Atretes said coldly, setting the goblet on the table.

“Meaning you haven’t been gone long enough for certain people to forget you. Domitian, for one. Or have you forgotten the emperor’s brother?”

“I earned my freedom.”

“Freedom is easily revoked. You deliberately humiliated one of his closest friends during an exercise match.”

“That was a long time ago, and Domitian took his revenge when he matched me with one of my own tribesmen.”

“Small revenge by his standards, Atretes. Domitian won’t consider the score settled until you’re dead. It’s your good fortune that you haven’t been gone long enough for the mob to forget you as well.”

“Surely you aren’t suggesting Atretes fight again.”

Bato was surprised she had spoken. She had seemed a beautiful but meek little thing when she entered the room. Now, he wondered. There was fire in her eyes. “He may have no choice.”

She left the couch and stood in front of Atretes. “Let’s leave this place,
now.
Please.”

Atretes might have been deaf for all the attention he paid her.

“If Domitian finds out you’re here, you may not get out alive again,” Bato said frankly.

“Do you plan to tell him?” Atretes said, eyes narrowing.

“No, but he has friends among the guards. One was at the gate when you arrived.” He looked pointedly at the woman. “This is the last place you should’ve brought her and the child.”

Atretes’ eyes darkened. “If Pugnax is trustworthy, I’ll take lodgings there.”

“So be it. Your presence at the inn will guarantee him additional business. Make sure he pays you well. Do you remember how to get there?”

“No. It was in the middle of the night when you took me. Remember?”

Bato laughed. “I remember that night very well.” The servant entered. As the platter was put on the table, Bato dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Eat while I give you instructions,” he told Atretes and Rizpah.

Rizpah had no appetite. She listened carefully to Bato’s instructions while studying the lanista. Could he be trusted? Or was he another of Gallus’ bent, pretending to be a friend while plotting ways to use Atretes?

Atretes ate a hearty portion of meat, bread, and fruit and downed two more goblets of wine before his hunger was satisfied.

“We’ll go through the tunnels,” Bato said. “The guards won’t see you leave and will assume you’re still here.”

He led them down the portico overlooking the training grounds. The gladiators were going through exercises with wooden swords. Atretes didn’t pause or even turn his head. Now that she had seen a glimpse of the brutal life of the ludus, Rizpah ached for him.

They went down steps to the baths and then down another corridor. Bato took a burning torch from a wall mounting as he opened a heavy door. “Through here.”

Rizpah imagined the men who had gone down this long, darkened corridor knowing they would face death at the other end. Bato and Atretes said nothing as they walked ahead of her. Their silence was respectful and full of the grim history that lay between them. A door stood open at the far end, giving entry into more corridors that led to holding cells beneath the arena itself. They followed the granite steps up into a large room with benches against the stone walls. Rizpah saw the arena through the iron gate.

Atretes paused and looked out at the wide expanse of freshly raked sand and the tiers of marble rows where thousands of spectators sat during the ludi. There were moments, as now, when the excited fury of the mob still rang in his ears like a strong heartbeat quickening his blood.

How many times had he stood in this room, armor polished, sword sharpened, greave in place, waiting to step out into the glaring sunlight and face death and the impassioned throng crying out his name over and over? He had hated it, hated them. At times, he had even hated himself.

Why, then, did he miss it?

Turning, he saw Bato standing near another doorway. “You begin to understand,” the lanista said solemnly.

“They took more than my freedom. They took my soul.”

Compassion filled Rizpah at the bleakness in his voice. She went to him. He looked down at her with haunted eyes, and she took his hand. “You have a soul, Atretes,” she said. “Before God, you have a soul. He gave it to you.”

Bato offered no advice or comfort; Atretes was a man to accept neither and resent both. Yet as the woman took Atretes’ hand and placed it on the sleeping child, Bato saw a softening, not when Atretes touched the babe, but when he looked at the woman. He had a feeling this one would prove herself far better than Julia Valerian.

“This way,” Bato said and led the way down another corridor that opened into a large room inside an iron gate that looked out into the arena.

“What is this place?” Rizpah said in a hushed voice, for it oppressed her spirit.

“The dead are brought through those gates,” Atretes said.

“This is the best way out,” Bato said and showed them along the corridor where the bodies were carried to waiting wagons that removed them for burial outside the walls of the city.

Rizpah let go of Atretes’ hand. She could hardly breathe, staring down the long, dark corridor. Atretes put his arm around her shoulders and drew her into the onerous hallway along with him. Her heart beat heavily as they followed the lanista.

Bato set the torch into a mounting at the end of the stone corridor. He took several coins from his belt and held them out to Rizpah. “You’ll find your appetite when you leave this place.” She took them and thanked him for his kindness.

“May her god protect you,” he said to Atretes as he opened the heavy door. Beyond it was a Roman street and sunlight.

Pugnax had increased in girth as well as wealth over the three years since Atretes had last seen him. His cropped hair was graying at the temples and the lines in his face had deepened. Atretes took in the grander surroundings, well aware that the largess had come from the mural painted on the front of the inn depicting himself in combat. He couldn’t read the sign, but had a good idea what it said.

“So you earned your freedom,” Pugnax said, noting the ivory chip hanging from the gold chain around Atretes’ neck. He admired Rizpah, if not the babe in her arms, adding with a grin, “And have more to show for it than I.”

Atretes didn’t like the way Pugnax stared at Rizpah. “I need to earn enough money to make the journey back to Germania.”

Pugnax gave a hard laugh. “You carry a vain hope, Atretes. You can’t go back. You’re no more German anymore than I’m a Gaul.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“You think I’m wrong? Like it or not, you aren’t the man the Romans captured ten years ago. Rome has changed you.”

“That may be so, but I’m still Chatti.”

“Whatever you were, your people will know the difference now, even if you don’t.” He gave a slight wave of his hand. “But then, what does it matter? The Chatti are long dead.”

“I’m
alive. Others will be also.”

“Scattered and disorganized.” Pugnax felt the silence in the common room and glanced around, noting how his patrons stared at Atretes and whispered among themselves.

Atretes noticed as well, though he liked it less than Pugnax. “How much will you pay me to stay here?”

Pugnax laughed. “You’ve no subtlety at all, have you?”

“There were games enough in the arena.”

“Philo, Atretes and I will have the best wine,” he announced loudly enough to be heard by anyone in the room. A shiver of alarm raced through Rizpah as she felt the ripple of excitement spread. “It
is
him,” someone whispered as they passed by.

“By the fates, I’d give half of what I own to see him fight again,” said another.

Well satisfied with the stir he had caused, Pugnax gestured grandly. “Come, my friend. Sit and have some wine. We’ll talk of old times.”

Men stared at Atretes and then looked at Rizpah as he took hold of her arm, drawing her alongside him as he followed Pugnax to a table clearly reserved for more affluent patrons. Reclining on the proffered couch of honor, Atretes gestured for her to join him. She sat, Caleb on her lap, his head leaning comfortably against her breasts as he slept. She was uncomfortable being the focus of so much attention.

“They haven’t forgotten you,” Pugnax said with a hint of envy.

“A fact that will bring you benefit. Think how many will come and buy your wine when they know I’m here,” Atretes said dryly.

“They will bring gifts to lay at the feet of their idol.”

Atretes’ eyes narrowed. “Do you mock me, Pugnax?”

“No more than I mock myself. The light of glory doesn’t shine long on any man. Make the most of it while you can.”

“All I want is enough gold to get me home.”

Pugnax’s mouth curved. “One match in the games scheduled for next week and you’d have that. You could name your price, and Titus would pay it.”

Rizpah glanced at Atretes, concerned that he might consider fighting again. His expression was veiled.

Atretes smiled without warmth. “I prefer that you pay it,” he replied. “My terms are simple: an equal share of your profits for as long as I remain in this inn.” When Pugnax started to protest, he added, “If you prefer, I’ll go down the street and make the same offer to your competitor.”

“No need to do that. I agree to your terms.”

“One hundred denarii . . .”

“One hundred!”

“. . . in advance, and arrange for guards, enough of them to prevent a repeat of my last visit here. I don’t want my clothes torn off by a mob of women.” He ignored Rizpah’s raised eyebrow. “And see that the woman and her child have comfortable, secure lodgings,” he added, jerking his head toward Rizpah almost as though an afterthought.

Pugnax took the opportunity to look her over again. “On the premises, or would you prefer her elsewhere?” Pugnax cast him a knowing smile. “You may wish to entertain admirers.”

Atretes understood his meaning and was unaccountably annoyed by it. “I want her close at hand, but not so close she’s in my bed.” Color filled Rizpah’s cheeks, and she cast him an annoyed glance. “Unless I want her there,” he added.

“Consider it done,” Pugnax said and rose to make the arrangements.

Atretes looked at Rizpah, his mouth tipping in amusement. “You look disturbed, my lady. Was it something I said?”

“You know very well what you said and what you were implying to your friend.”

“He’s not my friend, and I thought it best to let him know you belong to me.”

“The fact of my coming here with you said enough.”

“It needed stating.”

She could feel people staring at them and felt intensely uncomfortable. “Are you sure we’ll be safe here?” His mouth tightened as she looked around. “I never realized how well known you would be here.”

He turned his head slowly. His hard, challenging stare made most patrons look away. “There are certain advantages to being recognized,” he said coolly, all trace of his earlier amusement gone.

“What advantages? Bato warned us about Domitian. You’re placing your life in the hands of Pugnax, who will no doubt hire criers to go about the city announcing your presence here.”

“I don’t intend to stay long.”

“You may be in Rome forever if the brother of the emperor wants you in chains.”

His eyes blazed. “Woman, why must you always try my patience?” He sat up and leaned toward her.

Impossible man! “Why must you grow angry at everything that’s said to you? You’re deliberately putting yourself in danger here, and you’ve put Caleb in danger with you. Don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

A muscle jerked in his cheek. “I don’t care if you’re happy or not. The fact is I need money to get us where we’re going. This is the cleanest and fastest way I could think to get it.”

“Cleanest way?”

“No doubt you prefer me in the arena.”

She would rather he had trusted Theophilus, but knew saying so would only exacerbate his darkening mood. She had already learned Atretes couldn’t do anything the easy way, especially if it meant swallowing his monumental pride. “No, I don’t want you in the arena. I want you safe and at peace with yourself and God.”

“And you think that would’ve been the case if I’d handed myself over to that bloody centurion of yours.”

“Theophilus saved your life twice. He said—”

Atretes made a harsh sound. “The arena would be the quickest way.” He raked his hands through his hair. “I’d either have the gold to return home or I’d be dead. Either way, I win.”

Appalled at his words, she stared at him. “You can’t mean it.”

“I mean it. Oh, I mean it.”

“If it was my wayward tongue that put such a thought in your head, forgive me. Atretes, please,” she said, laying her hand against his cheek, “you have too much to live for to allow yourself to think in this way.”

Her touch sent a rush of sensation through his body, rousing an intense physical desire as well as a deeper longing he didn’t want to analyze. He looked straight into her eyes. Hers went wide and she took her hand from him. “Why must you always misunderstand me?” she said and looked away.

He turned her face back and smiled sardonically. “Maybe I do have something to live for, but I doubt the reasons I can think of right now have any similarities to yours.” He liked the rosy color that poured into her cheeks, the warmth of her skin when he brushed it with his fingertips.

She drew back from his touch. “People are watching us,” she said, embarrassed.

“Good. They’ll know to stay away from you.”

Pugnax showed them upstairs and opened the door into a spacious bedchamber. Rizpah didn’t move from the corridor until Atretes took her arm and pulled her into the room.

“Through here, my lady,” Pugnax said. He showed Rizpah into a small connecting room meant to accommodate a manservant or lady’s maid and left her there.