The Gladiator (16 page)

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.

Locating the source of the soothing hymn, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe, won
dering if a mirage had sprung up in his sitting room or if a group of Christians really had been audacious enough to gather under his roof.

He makes me to lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside the still waters.

He restores my soul.

The last words caught him by surprise. He listened more intently, his interest keen to learn who might restore his soul.

He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me…

His eyes sought out Pelonia where she stood worshipping her God, an expression of intense love and peace making her even more lovely than usual.

As the group continued to sing, Pelonia's eyes fluttered open. Once again she caught him staring at her. This time he didn't feel angry for being found out or trapped and ashamed by his inability to keep his eyes off her. This time, he felt…welcomed.

She smiled at him, a glorious display that lit up her face and allowed him a deeper glimpse of her beautiful spirit. The hope of reconciliation shone from her eyes.

Stretching out her hand, she beckoned him to join her in front of the shuttered windows. He took a step forward, surprised by his eagerness to share in the atmosphere of peace their worship created.

The song ended. He peeled his gaze from Pelonia to find the other believers gaping at him. He saw in their faces, they knew who he was. Worse, what he'd done to their kind. To their credit they tried to hide their distrust, but the trepidation etched in their expressions severed the tenuous thread reeling him over to Pelonia's side.

The temptation to join them evaporated. What madness to think he could leave his old life behind when everyone except Pelonia knew the full extent of his brutal past.

With a terse shake of his head in answer to Pelonia's invitation, he turned on his heel and left the house.

Pelonia flinched as the heavy stone door closed with an angry thump. Owl-eyed, her companions stared at her in speechless alarm.

“He isn't going for the authorities, is he?” Festus yelped, his voice reed-thin with fear.

“Don't be too anxious,” Geminius warned. “If he wanted us dead, he wouldn't bother to contact the authorities. He'd have killed us himself.”

Annia and the others launched into an agitated debate about their safety, but Pelonia didn't weigh in. Every nerve in her body demanded she go after Caros. She rushed for the door, nearly tripping on her tunic's hem in her haste to catch up with him. The guard moved to bar her way, but her new friends closed ranks around her, sweeping her past the guard and out onto the front steps. Blinking the sun's glare from her eyes, she spotted Caros just before he disappeared into the thick flow of pedestrians on the street.

Frantic to be heard over the clack of horse hooves and wagon wheels, she called Caros's name as she sprinted down the steps before the guard had a chance to follow her.

Caros whipped around. His eyes flared, then narrowed. Walking back to her, his steely disapproval gripped her by the throat. “How did you get out here?”

“My friends—”

“You mean those fools abandoning you?”

Pelonia craned her neck to see behind her. Wringing her hands, Annia waited by the school's tall, iron gate, but the other two couples fled in the opposite direction.

“Your surliness frightened them.”

“Cowards,” he sneered, grasping her hand and dragging her back toward the house. “At least your friend Annia seems to possess a bit of courage.”

“So do the others.” Offended on her friends' behalf, she did her best to pull free. She didn't appreciate his snide attitude or his overreaction. After all, she hadn't been trying to escape. She'd followed him because she'd been worried about his feelings. “It took great courage for them to worship in the home of a
lanista.”

“Great courage or tremendous stupidity?”

Pelonia bit back a tart reply. Marching up the steps, he berated the guard for his carelessness and hauled Pelonia through the front door. Annia close on their heels, Caros blocked the door with his arm. “You've ‘visited' long enough today, mistress.”

With a decisive thud, he closed the door in the older woman's indignant face.

A
nnia descended the school's front steps, her maternal instincts running rampant. Until now, she'd believed Pelonia's assurance she was well treated, that she felt the Lord had placed her in the gladiator's home for a purpose. She didn't want to question Pelonia's calling, but she feared the
lanista'
s anger might lead to violence.

Her mind already forming a plan to help Pelonia, she realized she may not have known the young woman long, but she'd come to think of her as a daughter. Perturbed for provoking Caros's temper, she wished she'd used better judgment and come alone this morning. With the damage done, she had to do something to correct her lack of foresight.

Calling for the litter she'd arrived on, she gave her servants swift orders to be taken to the Palatine hill. Pelonia had mentioned her cousin's marriage as her family's reason for venturing to Rome in the first place. Perhaps her cousin's important husband wielded enough influence to see Pelonia freed from the
lanista'
s hold.

Annia hopped from her litter the moment it arrived in front of Senator Tacitus's palace on the Palatine. The huge
marble columns and grand portico reminded her of a religious temple. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the hem of her tunic and
stola
enough to keep from stumbling on any of the myriad steps leading to the front door.

At the top of the stairs, she noted the wool marking the doorposts, an indication of the bride and groom's recent marriage. She knocked and breathed a sigh of relief when the palace caretaker allowed her entrance.

Inside the cavernous entryway, she waited, the smoky-sweet scent of incense drifting from the family's shrine in the atrium behind the long blue curtain to her right. She caught her breath at the vibrant frescoes decorating the walls and the numerous busts of the senator's illustrious family lining the brightly hued edges of the mosaic floor.

The curtain parted and a slender young girl stepped from the shadows of the atrium.

Annia surged forward. “Forgive my intrusion this morning, but I must know, are you Tiberia, wife of Senator Antonius Tacitus?”

Her manner severe, the girl nodded. “I'm Tiberia. My caretaker says you have news of my cousin.”

Confused by the cold, almost hostile tone, Annia began to question the wisdom in coming here. Perhaps Pelonia bore her cousin more affection than Tiberia returned? Fearing she'd made yet another error this morning, she eased back toward the exit.

“Where are you going?” Tiberia waved her hand and two slaves moved to block Annia's escape. “Do you or do you not have news of my cousin?”

“I believe I may have made a mistake.”

“Why? Did you think to come here, demand a reward for your information and leave without any of us being wise to your deceit?”

“Reward? You misunderstand. I want nothing from you. I wish only to tell you of your cousin Pelonia's whereabouts. I fear for her safety and pray you and your family will be gracious enough to rescue her.”

The girl hesitated, her small, slightly uptilted eyes narrowing with indecision. The curtain rustled again. A feminine voice called from behind it, “That's enough, Asa, I'll see to our guest myself.”

Annia watched the girl bow toward the curtain and scurry off down a side hallway. The curtain parted again. This time an aristocratic woman stepped into the entry. Appearing slightly younger than Pelonia by perhaps a year or two, the newcomer's red
stola
and white undertunic gave her a dramatic air that went well with her above average height and patrician features.

“I am Tiberia, the person you seek. I trust you'll forgive my small deception and understand the need for it. When Pelonia disappeared, my husband offered a reward for news of her whereabouts. We've been swarmed by charlatans bearing lies simply to gain a few coins ever since. Now, please,” she said urgently, “tell me of my cousin. My husband commissioned the best scouts to find her. They brought news she was dead.”

“The scouts were mistaken,” Annia assured her, relieved to find she'd made the right decision to come after all. “Her family's camp was attacked by thieves and everyone killed except Pelonia and her uncle. That same day, her uncle sold her to a slave caravan.”

“No! I can't believe you,” Tiberia said, the color draining from her face.

“It's true, my lady. She was sold to the
lanista,
Caros Viriathos. She's being held in his compound even as we speak.”

“I've been such a fool,” Tiberia whispered, staring at the floor. “I believed him.”

“Who did you believe, my lady?”

Her full mouth pinched into a thin line, Tiberia shook her head, unable or unwilling to share more. She clasped Annia's hands, her unsteady fingers clutching tightly. “I've been so distraught. I blamed myself for Pelonia's death. Please, you must take me to her this instant. I
must
see her for myself.”

“That may not be easy, my lady. I believe you will need your husband to attend with you. The
lanista
is a difficult man from what I can tell. I'm certain he won't let you see her without being forced.”

“Nonsense.” Tiberia snapped her fingers and called for a litter. “My husband is a senator of Rome. No one refuses me entrance. Least of all a filthy gladiator trainer who dares to think he can keep me from my cherished kin.”

 

Unsure of his status as far as Pelonia was concerned, Caros found her under a lemon tree in the herb garden a short time after the noonday meal. Cat lay stretched out on the ground beside her, basking in the cool autumn afternoon. Deep in thought, her chin resting on her raised knee, she idly stroked the tiger's ear.

Pleased by the peaceful sight of his woman and pet together, he admired Pelonia's courage. In small ways and large, she proved her immeasurable worth. Few people viewed his tiger as anything more than a vicious beast, but she possessed a talent for seeing deeper into a person—or tiger, as the case may be. In less than a week, she'd overcome her initial fear and accepted the animal, treating Cat with as much affection as if he were her own. He lived in hope of the day she would accept him with as much ease and openness. Though why she would ever find him worthy of her was a mystery after the way he'd treated her and her friends earlier in the morning.

Dry leaves crunched beneath his sandals, drawing Pelonia's attention. Her expression unreadable, he continued toward her. The idea of entering a ring full of lions held more appeal than facing her and admitting his guilt.

Unpracticed in offering apologies, he'd spent the last hour devising the best strategy to win her forgiveness for his heavy-handed behavior. Why had he become so unreasonable over a few judgmental glances? Most of society condemned him as next to nothing because of his profession. Why, all of a sudden, did the opinion of a few weak-livered Christians cause him the slightest concern?

Because Pelonia will side with them.

He crouched beside her in the shade, his fingers folding into the short coarse mane around Cat's neck. The quiet disappointment in her regard made him regret his earlier actions even more than he already did.

He rubbed his chin, waiting for her to berate him. When she said nothing, he assumed her silence was meant as some form of feminine punishment. Usually blessed with the ability to ignore a woman's sulks, he found the idea of Pelonia thinking badly of him an herb too bitter to swallow.

“How long do you plan to be angry with me?” he asked, his attention focused on his dozing pet.

“Have you done something to make me angry with you?”

“Don't play games, Pelonia.”

“I'm not.” She shifted to her knees, then rose to her feet, brushing the flecks of dirt and leaves from her tunic. “Nor am I angry with
you.
I thought you were furious with me.”

“No, not in the least,” he said, standing.

“I find that difficult to believe. Your fierce looks of the past three days have said otherwise. And this morning—”

“I behaved like a mad dog.”

“No, you were hurt and I'm truly sorry for it. Believe me, I'm upset with my new acquaintances enough for both of us.”

“You'd side with
me
against your fellow believers?”

“I'd side with you against anyone except God.”

Astonishment rattled him to his core. The bright color blooming up her slender throat told him she'd spoken secret thoughts with an unguarded tongue. She never ceased to surprise him. Grateful to find so unique and generous a woman, he thanked her God for bringing her into his life.

“Why do you think I followed you this morning, Caros? To cause another argument between us? No,” she answered for him. “I chased after you because I saw your expression when the others judged you. They didn't give you a chance. They should have known better. If they claim to be followers of Christ, they ought to show His love to all of those in need of it.”

Astounded by her attitude after the way they'd parted three nights ago and then his harshness this morning, he couldn't believe his good fortune. Even more convinced she was the finest person he'd ever known, he brushed his thumb over her smooth, rosy cheek, loving her more with each passing moment. “I need no one's love but yours.”

A startled gasp broke from her lips. More heat stained her cheeks until they glowed bright red. “You're wrong. We
all
need Christ's love and forgiveness. At this moment, you most of all. I believe you're suffering from a strong case of conviction.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Conviction, eh? Conviction of what?”

“Jesus taught—listen to me, don't shut me out,” she said when he rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to interrupt her. She waited until she held his full attention before she continued. “Jesus taught that no person comes to the Father
unless the Holy Spirit draws him. The Spirit is drawing
you,
whether you accept it or not. The road to believing in Christ as Savior and living by faith can be a rocky one if a person refuses to follow the truth he knows in his heart.”

“Is that why I berated your friends and slammed the door in Annia's face?”

She reached for a lemon leaf and split it into strips. “I think you overreacted out of fear.”

“I fear nothing.”
Except losing you.

“That's not true.” She stepped closer. “You wanted to join us this morning. Don't deny it. I saw it on your eyes. It wasn't until you noticed the others' reactions that you changed and became defensive. Are you concerned if you turn to Christ the other believers won't accept you?”

Being Romans, her friends knew truths about his past that she didn't. “Their opinion matters to me as much as the dirt beneath my feet.”

“If you say so.”

“The only opinion I care about is yours.”

She pinned him with a knowing look that made him feel she possessed the talent to read his thoughts and divine the secrets of his soul. “Is that why you haven't told me of the Christians you've killed?”

She might as well have kicked him in the stomach. “Who told you?”

“It's not important. Why didn't
you?”

“Why would I? Especially after your reaction to the executions.”

Her soft hand reached up to caress his cheek. “Only now do I comprehend how much my words must have hurt you. I'm sorry.”

“Then you don't hate me for what I did to your kind?”

“No! When I heard what happened, I remembered what
you said about learning to kill or be killed. I'm just grateful you survived all those years.”

He nuzzled her palm, overwhelmed by her sweet spirit.

“I'm ashamed of how I dragged you down the street like a common slave this morning.”

Clearly he'd caught her off guard. “Why? Don't you think of me as a common slave?”

“There's nothing common about you.” He kissed her fingers. “In truth, I believe I haven't thought of you as a true slave since…the first time I found you in this garden.”

Astonished, she didn't know whether to laugh with glee or to screech at him. Her fingers tingling from the brush of his lips, she stepped away. “Then why threaten to bend me to your will and force me to accept my bondage? Why do we have a bargain at all? Why not release me to find my cousin?”

“Because I want you here with me, within arm's reach. I want you here where I know I can see you every day, every
hour
if I choose.”

She turned her back on him, but not before he saw her tormented expression. “What of
my
wants, Caros?”

“I'll give you anything except your freedom.”

“Every other gift pales in comparison.”