The Champion (12 page)

Even now, when he was clearer of mind and more optimistic than he had been in ages, anger simmered in his belly, refusing to subside. Surely, his friends’ God of peace and love would spurn a man who only thrived because of violence.

He moved to the window and thrust open the shutters. Cold air spilled into the room, across his skin. Moonlight bathed the training area and outbuildings in an eerie white glow.

The field called to him. Out of habit, his right hand clenched, yearning for the familiar comfort of a
gladius
and the relief a fight supplied him. Was he too far gone? Or would leaving Rome and the trappings of the ring be the answer to his problems? Could he be truly satisfied with a simpler life on his land in Umbria? Or would casting aside the hard-won success he’d already earned be nothing more than reckless folly?

Honest enough to admit that whatever life he chose would be colorless without Tibi to come home to, he acknowledged that she could not be his. Half defeated by that simple truth, he accepted that any alterations would be for him alone and because she made him want to be a better person.

He sank back down on the bed. His elbows on his knees, he hung his head, wondering if he was worth the effort or even up to the challenge. What if he threw caution to the four winds and changed his life, only to find the goals he sought were no more than unattainable illusions?

Unable to answer the questions tormenting him, he
settled his thoughts on Tibi. The morning offered her a quiver full of challenges. He would be there, silent, in the background, but doing everything in his power to ensure the success she needed to strengthen her own image of herself. His men would treat her with honor or suffer the consequences, but only she could prove to them she deserved the respect she so desperately wanted.

T
ibi rose long before the sun the next morning. Troubled by unpleasant dreams during the short time she’d finally slept, she tried not dwell on the shadowed scene she’d witnessed in the herb garden. Livia Marciana had arranged her own assault. Her web of lies shocked and disgusted Tibi, but not half as much as the ease with which Alexius seemed to play into the spider’s trap.

Desperately hoping she’d misread what had happened, she splashed her face with cold water from the basin and combed her hair. She wanted to think well of Alexius and considered it only fair to give him the benefit of a doubt. He’d been kind to her. No matter what he did, her offer of friendship stood because of that kindness, but if he’d chosen Livia, she could not love him. Nor, she feared, could she respect him after such a blatant display of poor judgment.

Dressed in one of the dark tunics she’d brought when she left her father’s house, she waited for the sound of servants in the corridor before she made her way downstairs.

By chance, she saw Velus in the central garden. With scrolls tucked under his arms and his chubby hands
laden with a stack of wax tablets he balanced with his chin, he looked harassed and overburdened—all before sunup.

“Let me help you.” She reached for the tablets on top of the stack.

He shied away, almost fumbling the many items as he glanced behind him in a nervous gesture that surprised her. “Thank you, I have them, mistress. Aren’t you supposed to be on the archery field?”

“I’m headed there now. I thought I might be too early.”

Another quick glance around the garden. “No,” he said. “You should be on your way. I expect you’re already late. Silo will be on the lookout for you.”

Concerned by her tardiness on her first day as an instructor, she hurried toward the corridor that led to the training area at the back of the house. Busy berating herself for not finding out exactly when Silo expected her, she heard a loud clatter in the garden and an irate female voice. “Watch where you’re going, you stupid dwarf!”

Outraged on Velus’s behalf, Tibi quickly retraced her steps. On the threshold of the courtyard, she froze. Beneath the covered portico on the other side of the fountains and lush greenery, Livia Marciana was standing over Velus berating him for bumping into her. The steward was on his knees desperately collecting the scrolls and tablets scattered across the colorful floor tiles.

Tibi pressed back against the wall, careful to keep out of sight. After the kiss they shared, Livia had left the garden with Alexius. Had she won the wager to ensnare him as Leta predicted? She must have. What
other reason would the devious woman have for staying overnight?

Bile rose in Tibi’s throat as her suspicions and fears were confirmed. Unprepared for the sense of betrayal that struck her as hard as a merciless fist, she gasped for breath, winded by an intense shock of pain.

Jealousy laughed at her. She couldn’t determine which one of them was the bigger fool. Alexius for living up to his reputation and falling for a conniver like Livia, or herself for forgetting his womanizing ways because she preferred to think better of him.

Either way, she was still a fool for having allowed him into her heart. Why hadn’t she been wiser and protected herself?

As it was, the situation was unacceptable. Her love was hers alone to give or, in this instance, take back as she wished. When she loved, she desperately longed for that love to be returned wholeheartedly. For years she’d heard of Alexius’s exploits. Last night’s sample of scandalous behavior confirmed to her that he wasn’t up to the challenge of the commitment she desperately needed.

Striving to be sensible instead of ruled by her emotions, she made up her mind that the only road open to them was the friendship she’d offered. If she didn’t love him, Alexius was free to cavort with whomever he dared without having the power to devastate her.

She headed to the back of the house. Her chest ached as though her heart had shattered into a thousand shards of broken glass. Irrepressible tears blinded her. She was grateful that no one was there to witness her misery. She swiped the moisture from her cheeks, hurt, sad and increasingly angry with her own stupidity. The situation was for the best. Even if Alexius had returned her
love, they had no future. She’d been unwise to forget that simple fact.

Outside, a bracing wind chilled her. Gooseflesh spread across her bare arms, but she was too upset to care. She vaguely wished she’d brought a cloak. Instead of returning to the house and running the risk of seeing Livia again, she continued along the path through the peach orchard.

The smell of smoke from the morning’s fires hung in the crisp, clear air. Welcoming the cold as a distraction from her boiling emotions, she did her best to concentrate on the archery lesson she planned to impart. Slowly, she began to regroup and calm down.

She passed through the gate that separated the
lanista
’s private grounds from the rest of the gladiator school. The roar of lions echoed across the sand of the practice field. A rainbow of pink and golden hues spread across the eastern horizon. Lights shone in the barracks windows as did a few torches not blown out by the night winds.

To Tibi’s surprise, the main training areas—the gladiator arena, the caged
bestiarri
grounds where trainees fought exotic animals, the equestrian and archery fields—were empty. Uncertain where else to go, and with the house off-limits due to Livia’s presence, she waited for Silo beneath the olive trees within sight of the row of targets she’d shot yesterday.

As the rising sun dispelled the gray gloom of dawn, slaves arrived to rake the sand and feed the animals caged along the far side of the elliptical arena.

Wondering how the panther cub fared with its new feline mother, she did her best to ignore the swell of nervous anticipation for the coming day.

Alexius striding across the open expanse was the last
sight she’d expected to see. In the golden light of morning he looked like a flesh-and-blood Apollo, the hem of his cloak whipping out behind him in the wind. She leaned back against the olive tree for support, aiming to appear nonchalant instead of overtaken.

He smiled as he approached, sending her traitorous heart into a frenzy of longing. She hated her reaction, given the vows she’d made not to love him less than an hour earlier. Deciding that she may not have sway over her wayward emotions, but that she definitely controlled her own mind, she forced herself to stand straight, determined to stop being such a weakling.

“Good morning.”

The richness of his accented voice poured over her like warm honey. A slight rasp that hinted of his recent sleep made her shiver. She closed her eyes to break his hold on her. For her own protection, she had to remember he’d just spent the past several hours indulging in the charms of another woman.

“Good day,” she said, her manner as stiff as her spine.

“Why are you out here this early?” he asked, slipping off his cloak in a single fluid shrug.

“Velus told me Silo was waiting.”

“Silo’s inside the barracks, still eating.” He settled his cloak around her shoulders. Although knee-length on him, the wool garment reached to her ankles. Warmth from his body and the spicy scent of his skin enveloped her. A sigh escaped her lips before she realized it.

“Where’s your cloak? You’re freezing,” he said.

“I forgot it in my room.”

“I’ll send a slave to fetch it.”

She began to take off his.

“No.” He reached for her hands. “Wear mine until yours comes. I want you to stay warm.”

“Thank you, but you shouldn’t have to be cold just because I’m forgetful.”

He smiled. “I’m fine. Keep it.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue with your
lanista
.”

She glanced down at their entwined fingers. His dark hands were big, scarred and warm. Before the episode with Livia, she would have reveled in his touch and accepted his care as proof that a special bond existed between them.

Now, confusion toyed with her. Hope whispered that she’d been wrong. The Alexius she knew personified sincerity, making her unable to see him as a liar and a cheat.

“I confess I didn’t expect to see you until much later. I thought you mentioned your guests would keep you off the field this morning.”

“I sent them home early last night. I realized the noise must be interfering with your rest.”

“Really? All of them?” If she hadn’t seen Livia she would have been touched by his consideration.

“Yes, all of them.”

Offended by the lie, she pulled her hands from his. She wondered what other falsehoods he’d told her over the last few days. She’d known the compliments on her beauty and wit were exaggerations, but what of the poignant stories about his past? His family? He’d said he felt something unique between the two of them. Jealousy and distrust made her wonder just how “unique” he felt toward Livia.

“I’m sorry I ruined your party.” Her voice was as
cool as the morning. “You needn’t have gone to any trouble on my account.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. The truth is, I was glad to see everyone go.”

“Everyone?” she asked, giving him another chance to tell the truth.

The faint lines in his forehead deepened as he studied her. “Is something amiss with you, Tibi? If you’re worried about today, you needn’t be. If I weren’t confident you’d do well, I wouldn’t allow you out here.”

Yesterday, his assurance would have gone a long way toward soothing her anxieties. Today, she didn’t believe him. The loss of trust was a violation. She’d been robbed of something precious.

“Tell me the truth,” he said. “What’s happened? You don’t seem like yourself,
agape mou
.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said, agitated. The endearment mocked her after his romp with Livia. “I’m not your love. I’ll never be.”

He stepped back as though she’d struck him. “You sound so certain. Is that because
you
can never love
me?
”

She glanced away, her throat working to dislodge the sharp ball of emotion choking her. Relieved, she saw Silo and a trio of other men walking across the field, their arms loaded with bows and several quivers full of arrows. “Of course.” She swallowed thickly, the remaining shards of her heart splinted into ever smaller pieces. “What good can come of either of us loving the other?”

In a short time, the trainees began to arrive in force. The raw recruits quickly swelled from two, to four, to six. Judging by their accents, most of the men were
Italians, but one hailed from Gaul, and another from across the Adriatic on the coast of Dalmatia. Near the back stood a ferocious-looking
Thracian
.

All the men were more than average height, with three or four almost as tall as Alexius. Each of them was huge and swollen with muscle. They were battered and scarred, with the majority bearing bruises, black eyes and at least one bandage.

Alexius leaned on the trunk of an olive tree behind her, his arms crossed over his chest. Her senses heightened by his close proximity, she tried not to be overly sensitive to the silent, but intimidating force of his presence.

Silo called for attention. The chatter quieted. Men who waited beneath the trees, stood, dusted themselves off and moved forward. They formed a tight half circle around her before Silo made introductions.

She smiled and offered a greeting to the wall of indifferent faces. Six pairs of unimpressed dark eyes stared back at her in reply.

Denying her instinct to run and hide in her chamber, she offered a brief history of her archery experience. Still no response. She looked to Silo, “Perhaps we should just begin.”

Silo nodded in agreement. He moved to the stack of bows and called the trainees forward. Based on his height and upper-body strength, each man chose the weapon that best suited him. Tibi explained how to restring the bows and, amid their complaints, made them practice until each man mastered the process.

To her relief, Alexius disappeared after the midday meal. Everyone seemed more at ease. While the men waited, they made friendly wagers and created challenges to test each other’s strength.

The sun was high overhead, transforming what had been a cold, gray morning into a warm, spring day. She removed Alexius’s cloak and hung the garment with care from a branch of one of the olive trees.

Her bare arms drew a round of whistles and hoots from the trainees. Thankful for the dark, shapeless tunic that covered her from throat to ankles, she colored, but ignored their teasing.

Secretly pleased that the group seemed more inclined to accept her, she called the men to order. She held up an arrow and proceeded with the second half of the day’s lesson. “Using a well-made projectile is essential to hitting your target.”

“Are we going to make one of those as well?” the
Thracian
interrupted from his place in the back.

“Of course. How will we proceed to shooting without arrows?” she replied over the round of sarcastic comments that followed his jest. “First, you’ll have to gather the sticks. However, you may want to consider using limbs from the surrounding olive trees. Once you peel away the bark, the fresh wood is easier to manipulate into a straighter missile during the drying stage.”

Disbelieving grumbles skittered through the troupe.

“Of course, that is the easiest part,” she continued, without skipping a beat. “Catching the birds for use of their feathers can be the most daunting task.”

Shouted instructions and the clap of wooden swords from the nearby training areas punctured the silence. Tibi chuckled, unable to keep pretending that she was serious in light of their disenchanted faces.

Slowly, the troupe began to realize they’d been duped. Uncertain smiles turned to appreciative laughter and their once-apathetic gazes lit with a grudging spark of approval.

Alexius chose his favorite weapon. He pointed the tip of the straight, Greek-styled sword toward Sergius, his friend and one of his most honored champions. “Join me on the sand. I need a good fight.”

At the center of the elliptical field, Alexius rolled his shoulders in a futile bid to release the tension in his muscles. Desperate to be free from his inner turmoil, he’d been looking forward to this moment since the party last night.