The Gladiator (12 page)

His lips brushed her ear. “You're not frightened, are you?”

“I've never traveled this fast in my life,” she admitted, a touch of anxiety heightening with the jolt of excitement she felt.

“There's no need to be afraid, this is hardly the races.
Perhaps we'll visit the Circus Maximus. With no obstacles to watch for, I could show you the true meaning of speed.”

The cloud of sadness lifted from her slim shoulders, if only a mite. “Could we?”

“Perhaps another day.” He indulged in the scent of her hair, glad to hear a spark of curiosity in her voice. “I know for a fact the races are on today and you wouldn't want to ride with a charioteer. They're nothing but insanity incarnate.”

“As opposed to gladiators?”

He grinned. “We're not sane, either. We're killers, remember.”

Her lips compressed into a prim line. “I thank you for the reminder.”

He chuckled. “Here, take the reins. Perhaps I can teach
you
a thing or two.”

Her hesitant smile told him she remembered saying the same words to him the previous night. She accepted the leather strips in a tight grip. “By all means, proceed.”

The back of her head brushed the center of his chest. He drew her closer. His hands covered each of hers. “Hold the reins loosely. Let them ease through your fingers.”

The chariot began to veer to the right.

“Caros!”

“Don't be afraid. Take control or your horses will feel your fear. To steer, pull back on the left or right rein like this.”

He allowed her to drive unaided through the next few streets until they came to the city gate and the traffic began to back up.

“Thank you. I enjoyed that! For the first time in weeks I've felt free.” She handed back the reins and gripped the chariot's front panel.

Her joy pleased him, but he didn't expect the twinge of guilt he experienced for holding her captive. He did have the power
to set her free. He wanted her happy just as he was happy, yet to free her was to lose her—a prospect he refused to face.

It had been years since he felt alive—as if there were something valuable to wake up for each morning. He would have to try harder, look for other ways to please her until she no longer sought a life apart from him.

They neared the amphitheater. A gift from the Flavian emperors to the people of Rome, the massive arena had been dedicated the previous year with a hundred days of continuous spectacles. Standing four stories, the white travertine exterior gleamed in the morning sun. The day's first games were in full force. The mob's roar swept across the distance.

He felt Pelonia tense. “What's wrong?”

“We're not going there, are we?”

“Not yet. I have business with the editor this afternoon. I can't avoid it or I would. My business won't take long.”

“The editor?”

“He arranges the games.” He maneuvered past a cart that swerved to the road's edge, then guided the chariot in a westerly direction toward the Forum. The horde of wheels and horses' hooves clattered on the stone road, drowning out further conversation.

Caros reined the horses to a stop not far from the Via Sacra. People swarmed around the chariots and other forms of transport. “We'll leave the chariot here. I'll hire one of the boys over there to watch it while we're gone. The way isn't far.”

He helped Pelonia to the ground. If not for her vow, the milling crowd would provide an ideal cover for escape. Coins exchanged hands. The chariot seen to, Caros led her along the Sacred Way, pointing out sites of interest. “There's the Palatine to our left. And up on the Capitoline there, the Temple of Jupiter.”

With no interest in the pagan temple, Pelonia surveyed the Palatine. The hill was overgrown with elegant palaces of Rome's noblest families. Somewhere up there, her cousin Tiberia resided. An eager fascination gripped her.
Which home is it?

The thought of her kin being so close overwhelmed her with happiness and…unexpected gloom. Her cousin was her dearest friend. Who better to share her feelings about Caros with than her closest confidant? Yet the moment she saw Tiberia again, she would be forced to cut her ties with the man who meant more to her with each passing day.

“Are you tired? Do you need to rest?” Caros' light touch on the small of her back made her realize she'd stopped walking.

“No, I'm fine.” She picked up her pace, her turmoil increasing with every step. Their situation was intolerable. Each kindness he showed her made him dearer to her heart, but every day she remained a slave eroded her inner core of strength. How long would it take before she joined the other slaves with broken spirits and nonexistent wills?

“You're too quiet.”

She looked into his blue eyes, her heart melting at the concern she saw there. Just a short time ago, she would never have guessed this rugged man capable of such gentleness. “I'm sorry. I have many things on my mind.”

“Tell them to me. Perhaps I can help.”

She shook her head. “No, I have to work them out for myself.”

He wasn't pleased, but he didn't press her. They continued along the road without speaking. The din of the crowd surrounded them. Food stalls lined the street. The smell of spices, roasted nuts and exotic fruits tinged the air.

Caros cleared his throat. “Your unhappiness isn't related
to Adiona, is it? She has a wicked tongue. The way she mocked you in the garden yesterday was cruel. I told her so.”

More concern for her feelings? “Thank you, but why did you bother? You know I plan to leave as soon as our agreement is finished. I don't want to cause trouble between you.”

Anger flashed across his face. He led her to the side of the road, to a quieter spot between a large statue and a laurel tree. “You might as well abandon your thoughts of escape. You won't be leaving in two weeks' or two years' time. I can't let you go.”

“Why? What is it about me that can't be replaced? Anyone can weed the garden. I'm almost useless in the kitchen and I refuse to warm your bed. If it's a matter of coin, my family will repay you. If you're in need of affection, why not seek it from…”

“From whom? My lady love?”

“Yes,” she snapped, annoyed to have her own words thrown back at her.

“And who might that be? One of my admirers? One of my other female slaves? Why don't you enlighten me?”

“You know very well, it's Adiona.”

“Come again? I couldn't hear you over all the racket in the street.”

Her hands balled into fists at her sides.
“Adiona.
Considering what I saw this morning and what you told me yesterday—”

“This morning? What did you see?”

“You seemed most reluctant to let her leave.”

His brow arched. “And yesterday? What did I say?”

“You said she's pleasant and lovely enough to rival Venus. That unlike the two of
us,
the two of you are of similar minds. That the relationship you share with the widow is everything you desire it to be.”

That I'm a slave and nothing more.

His face inscrutable, he pressed closer. She stepped away until the tree trunk scratched her back. He gripped her upper arms and leaned over until they were eye to eye. “Finally a woman who listens. Why did you hear all the wrong things?”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed. “It's true I said those things and none were lies. I also said I think
you're
beautiful and told you of my family—something I've never told anyone else.”

She glanced away. “I'm honored you confided in me. I realize you shared with me to help ease my grief. You're most kind for doing so.”

“I'm not kind.” He released her and raked his hand through his hair. “I told you because you're special to me.”

“Special? Will you be more specific? I confess my thoughts are like jumbled string. I've wrapped myself in them until I fear I'll never break free.”

“How shall I define it? I've already told you I want you.”

“What does that mean? My father warned me of men who
want
every woman they see.”

“I
only want
you.”

Her knees went weak. “Then what are your true feelings for the widow?”

“I care for her, but not in the way you think. She's been an excellent friend who's given me much. When I gained my freedom, she used her influence to help me establish the school. In return, I've been her friend and protector, nothing more.”

“Then why did you lead me to believe otherwise?”

“We should proceed to the Forum.” He turned to leave. “At this pace, the best wares will be gone and we'll endure second-rate meat for a week.”

She grabbed hold of his tunic along with a few chest
hairs. He winced but froze to the spot. Her hand dropped away as though she'd touched fire. “Oh, no, we're not moving on until you tell me the truth. As it is, I feel you and your ‘friend' have made me the back end of a joke.”

“You're no joke to me.” He groaned. “Adiona had nothing to do with it. I didn't speak to her about you except to tell her she'd been cruel. She suspects I care for you, but…” He combed his hand through his hair again. “In truth, you've found me out. I encouraged you to believe there was more between Adiona and me because I wanted to make you jealous.”

Her mouth fell open. Caught between hot indignation and enormous relief, she realized he'd succeeded without a hitch. “How did you know I'd be jealous of her?”

“I didn't. She came when I summoned her to take Lucia. I had to think of something since you didn't want the wench whipped or sold.”

“You amaze me,” she said softly, her secret thoughts finding words before she realized she'd spoken them.

His expression warmed with pleasure. “The first time you spoke of Adiona to me, I knew you were jealous.”

She felt her cheeks burn. “Only a little.”

He chuckled. “I saw it in your eyes. You wanted me to deny all involvement with her. Your reaction gave me hope. After the speech you flayed me with the day before about how unsuited we are—”

“But we are,” she interrupted. “Nothing's changed.”

He waved away her protest. “Don't travel down that road again. Whether you acknowledge it or not, there's something unique between us.”

She couldn't deny him, nor could she admit she agreed. No matter how much she was growing to love him, she still had to leave.

P
elonia followed Caros up the hill to the Forum. The pristine weather had lured a rambunctious crowd. Merchants hawked everything from food and plants to boat sails, while street musicians played tunes on various instruments, hoping to earn coins or gifts of food.

She'd never visited the world's capital and everywhere she looked Rome offered something new to delight the eye. The public buildings—temples, basilicas and various monuments outshone any she'd ever seen.

“What's that over there?” she asked, pointing through the milling throng to a unique circular building.

“The Temple of Vesta,” Caros said, distracted by his attempts to lead her through the shifting sea of people.

“Where the Vestal virgins keep the flame of Rome alive?”

“The very same.”

“You don't
really
believe Rome will fall if the flame burns out, do you?”

As he sneaked a glance at her, his lips curved in a mocking smile. “All good Romans believe it.”

“But you're not a good Roman,” she said as they walked
up the congested steps of one of the basilicas. “You haven't even adopted a Roman name.”

“Out of respect for my father, I carry the name he gave me.”

“You said your father served Galba, but did he resent the Romans conquering your homeland?”

“No, he was a citizen, just as I would have been had I not been forced into the gladiatorial trade. That didn't stop him from loving our Iberian heritage or wanting to pass on that heritage to me.”

Caros tightened his grip on her hand when they entered the basilica by way of the main entrance. Rows of arched windows allowed light into the magnificent market. Two levels of shops lined both sides of the central pathway. The walls, floor and rows of support columns were all fashioned of polished white marble.

Lilting strains of a pan flute combined with hundreds of voices echoed through the cavernous space. The heavy flow of people jostled Pelonia, threatening to knock her over more than once. Caros steadied her each time and navigated the multitude with ease.

“What a marvelous place,” she said in awe.

Caros grunted. “It's crowded.”

“It's beautiful. All the craftsmanship is perfection.”

“It stinks like a sty.”

She laughed. “Who would have thought you'd have such a sensitive nose?”

“You enjoy teasing me, don't you, woman?”

“A slave must find enjoyment where she can.”

He chuckled. “As must her master. Remember that the next time I try to kiss you.”

The thought of him kissing her no longer unwelcome, she ducked her head to hide a shy smile of pleasure. Caros cleared the way for her as they entered the butcher shop. The
smells of fresh meat surrounded her. Shouted orders and voices haggling prices competed with the bleat of lambs and a few mooing cows. Animal carcasses hung from hooks behind the long counter.

The shopkeeper looked up from a large pile of coins. His eyes bugged when he saw Caros. He swiped the coins into a drawer and hurried from behind the counter.

“You are the Bone Grinder, no?” the shopkeeper asked, his wrinkled face bright with excitement. “By the gods, it is an honor to have you in my shop.”

The clamor faded into silence. Gaping mouths and curious eyes turned to stare.

Amazed by the people's reaction, Pelonia studied Caros. She'd never seen him beyond the walls of the school and it was an enlightening experience to find so many people revered him.

“The honor is mine,” he said.

The shop owner's face took on a slight frown of concern. “I usually have dealings with your steward. Is Gaius well?”

“He's fine.”

Pelonia allowed her attention to wander. Caros let go of her hand once the other customers returned to their business. While she waited for him to arrange deliveries to the school, she meandered around the shop, comparing the costs of various meats with the lower prices she would have paid at home.

Caros joined her near a table laden with buckets of brown eggs. He tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear, sending a shiver through her body when his calloused fingers brushed her cheek. “I was watching you,” he said. “Not once did you try to run off.”

“You're surprised? We have a bargain and I'm a woman of my word.”

He opened the door and ushered her out into the press of
patrons. “We do have a bargain. Up to now, I wasn't fully confident you'd keep it if an opportunity arose for you to escape again.”

“I assume I passed the test.”

He nodded. “You're honest, I'll give you that.”

Some time later, Caros finished his business with several other merchants. He led Pelonia into a different shop. Perfume sweetened the air. The skeins of white cotton hanging from the ceiling drew her attention, as did the vibrant bolts of silk lining the walls. Freewomen dressed in lavish tunics and
stolas
admired the feminine wares that covered the counters and shelves.

“I've brought you here because I realize you need certain items. If—”

“Caros!” One of the women, her hair covered in a fashionable blond wig, rushed toward them from a counter full of cosmetics. A delighted smile curved her painted lips and lit her kohl-rimmed eyes. “It's been months since I saw you last.”

Pelonia bristled at the woman's too-familiar tone and the way she greeted Caros with a lingering kiss on each cheek.

“Cassia, what a pleasure to see you. I've been working,” he said. “I have many new men to train and they've claimed my full attention.”

“I missed you at my banquet last week.” The blonde pouted as she gauged her effect on him from beneath lowered lashes. “I sent you a special invitation since my husband was out of town.”

Pelonia's eyes rounded, then narrowed when Caros cast a guilty glance her way. Disgusted to find he would dally with another man's wife, she abandoned his side and sought out the counter farthest from him. Hating the ease with which Caros sent her emotions reeling, she forced herself
to admire a set of ivory combs while the elegant shop mistress finished her business with another customer.

“I'll see you Sunday,” the shop mistress said as she handed the other woman a folded bundle of yellow cloth.

“Sunday,” the customer agreed. “At the seventh hour, down by the river.”

A bell on the door rang as the customer left. The shop mistress turned her attention to Pelonia. Instead of ignoring her and treating her like a slave as the other merchants had done most of the morning, the older woman offered a pleasant, “May I help you find something?”

“Thank you, but I'm just looking. These combs are exquisite.”

“And very expensive,” the mistress said, though not unkindly. “I have others over here. They're carved of wood, and not as fine as the ivory, but some are quite nice.”

Glancing to find Caros continued his conversation with the would-be adulteress, Pelonia followed the silver-haired shop mistress to the far end of the counter. The other woman pulled out a large wooden box filled with combs and began to pick out the best pieces.

Pelonia stopped her. “Please, don't waste your time on me. There are several customers here who need your help and I have no coin.”

“I assumed you had no money.” The shop mistress's expression softened with compassion. “I can see you're a slave of the
lanista
over there. You look so unhappy, I couldn't help but wonder if he's hateful to you.”

“No, no, he's kind,” she hurried to defend him, surprised the woman spared her a second thought. “But thank you for your concern when I'm no more than a stranger to you.”

“It's important to be kind to strangers. Even the wicked are good to their friends.”

Pelonia wondered if the other woman was a fellow believer. Jesus had taught a similar lesson and it was an uncommon one in a world where few people cared for anyone beyond themselves and their own families.

On impulse, she tapped the wooden counter, drawing the shopkeeper's attention to the spot. Pelonia traced the sign of the fish, a secret symbol Christians used to identify themselves.

The woman looked up, a huge grin parted her lips. She nodded and squeezed Pelonia's hand as though they were long-lost relatives. “What's your name, child?”

“Pelonia. And yours?”

“Annia.”

Caros's footsteps warned of his arrival. The shopkeeper released Pelonia's hand and began to place the combs back in the box.

“Do you see anything you want?” he asked. “If so, let's buy it and be on our way. The editor is waiting for me at the amphitheater.”

“There's nothing,” Pelonia said, reluctant to accept gifts from him. She noted Annia's frown when Caros spoke of the arena. Like most Christians, the older lady would despise the games. Not for their barbaric cruelty alone, but because a multitude of their fellow believers had been tortured in them and slain for sport.

“Are you certain?” he asked. “I thought I saw you admiring those ivory combs. If you want them—”

She shook her head. “I have everything I need. Let's be on our way. I don't want you to be late on my account.”

Pelonia shared a lingering glance with Annia. For the first time since her arrival in Rome, she didn't feel quite so alone. It was heartening to find another believer, to feel connected to the body of Christ again.

Outside the basilica, the sun shone brightly. The afternoon heat had erased the morning's fall breezes. Caros took her by the hand and led her quickly through the open market and back down the Via Sacra.

“You seem different since we left the Forum,” he said. “Tell me, what did you and the shop mistress speak of?”

Pelonia hesitated. She wouldn't lie, but neither would she confess she'd found another Christian. She didn't think he would report Annia to the authorities. After all, he hadn't turned her in, but she couldn't take a chance with the woman's life either. “We spoke of many things I'm certain you'd find of no interest. And you? Did you and your
married
friend have much to discuss?”

“More jealousy. That pleases me,” he said, laughing. “Cassia and I are no more than acquaintances. She's rich and bored. Like many women of her class, she thinks she'll find excitement in the bed of a gladiator. If nothing else, she'll have something to gossip about with her friends.”

“And she wants you.”

“I'm a champion of Rome. All the women want me.”

Pelonia marveled at his conceit until she realized he was teasing her. With a gentle poke at his ribs, she laughed. “They must not know you very well.”

“You wound me,” he said in a lighthearted tone, but his intense blue eyes grew serious. “Perhaps I should have said, all the women want me, except the one I want most.”

Unable to jest when words of tenderness rushed to her lips, she sought sanity in the distraction provided by the merchant wagons along the pebbled path.

As they neared the amphitheater, the crush of people thickened. The roar of the mob inside the gleaming torture palace grew louder, spreading through the air like constant thunder.

Pelonia's stomach rolled with dread. “Can I please wait
for you out here? You have my word I won't flee and I've proven I won't break our bargain.”

His arm slipped around her shoulders and he pulled her tight against him. “No, it's too dangerous.”

His refusal brooked no argument. He ushered her beneath one of the amphitheater's arched doorways, down a flight of concrete stairs and past the guards standing watch at the back entrance. From what she could tell as they walked down a long corridor, they were directly under the spectators.

“This way,” he said when they came to a choice of direction. “Those steps lead to the arena.”

No one offered Caros resistance when he bypassed the long line waiting outside the editor's office.

Caros pushed open the office door. The occupant barked, “By the gods! How dare…oh, it's you, Caros. Come in and take a seat.”

A moment later, a wealthy man, by the looks of his fine white tunic, exited the office and took a place at the front of the line. That he seemed honored to give up his time with the editor spoke volumes of his respect for Caros.

Caros led her inside the dingy office. Large parchments advertising past competitions covered the walls. A barred window near the ceiling allowed noise from inside the amphitheater to filter into the dusty space. She sat on an upended crate in the corner, while Caros took the chair in front of the large wooden desk.

The editor, a rotund, pockmarked individual, lifted a glass and a ceramic jug. “Care for a drink, Bone Grinder?”

“I'll pass, Spurius. Knowing you, it's probably laced with hemlock.”