The Gladiator Prince (32 page)

Glancing down the street, he led them between two tall concrete buildings, one painted red, the other blue, and squatted down. When Thane joined him, he set Anwen down.

“I do not like it,” Hasani whispered.

“You do not like what?” Thane searched the street from the shadows but only saw citizens passing the alleyway and carts going back and forth in the center of the street. So far, no one had given them so much as a glance. By Thane’s reckoning, they were no more than a block from the senator’s house. He was anxious to see Mabyn and get them all to the ship, away from Rome.

“There are no soldiers on the street,” Hasani said.

“So?”

“Trust me, Brit, there are
always
soldiers on the streets of Rome. They are usually everywhere.”

Thane shrugged and pulled a shaking Anwen against his side to comfort her. “You are scaring her.”

“You should both be scared,” the pirate snapped, getting to his feet. “For once, can you please trust me?”

“What do
you
think?” Thane snarled back.

Hasani lifted his eyes to the blue patch of sky high above their heads and placed his hands on his hips. “Fine! Just give me ten minutes to check.” He rubbed one hand against his arm as his eyes darted back and forth down the street. “If I am not back by then, do what you wish.” Before Thane could protest, the pirate dashed out into the street and disappeared quickly into the crowd.

“Wait a minute…”

Thane started after him, but Anwen cried out, “Father, please do not leave me.” He stopped. The terror in her voice shook Thane to his core. He turned around and lifted her into his arms.

“Never again,” he said sternly. “This I promise you, Anwen. Do you believe me?”

She nodded back at him and tightened her lips to get her fear until control. The defiant smirk that came back at him sent sparks of nostalgia through his blood, and for the first time in years, an ember of freedom crossed his mind, warming him.

Taking her hand, he searched the streets. Hundreds of people crossed back and forth between the stacked nests of buildings zigzagging into the side of another block of structures. When he lived in Rome before, a cart or horse had always taken him to the arenas. The jumbled streets of Rome crisscrossed like an elaborate maze. Someone had told him once that over a million people lived in this city; he could not fathom how they found their way around the haphazard labyrinth of tenements, government buildings, temples and amphitheaters. Anwen’s small hand shook inside his, and he gave it a squeeze.

Should I trust the Egyptian?
Hasani had saved Thane’s life and returned Anwen to him; he owed him for that. But he had been less than honest about his relationship with the mistress of the house.

Shaking his head, Thane decided he did not need the Egyptian. He would retrieve Phaedra, Bahar and Mabyn and whisk them off to the ship with no more delays. The pirate could find them there. The urge to get them away from this accursed city and back to Britannia outweighed every other desire. He would sort everything else out once they were well away from Rome.

He squeezed Anwen’s hand again and pulled her out into the flow of people. He would be damned if he let Hasani run things.

They moved slowly to begin with; the crowd was very concentrated here. To keep her from being trampled he finally had to pick Anwen up. After several hundred feet, the mass of people thinned, and they were able to move more quickly. Thane watched for landmarks. Nothing he saw seemed familiar. Tightening his jaw, he plunged forward.

Then, as the people dispersed, he saw the bright market they had passed the night before. It was noisy now with shouting vendors as they moved through the throng. The numerous stalls that had been dark and silent the night before blazed with bright colors and bins filled to the top with everything from cloth to pork. The smell of cooking meat, the waft of pungent dyes stirred by the slaves of cloth merchants, and the aroma of hundreds of humans and animals mingled together giving the market its own unique flavor.

Holding Anwen closely, Thane elbowed his way through slowly, trying desperately not to attract more attention than he already had. The giant Celt dressed in flashy robes carrying a child had drawn more than one stare.

They finally emerged onto another street where Thane turned right. When he spotted the senator’s house no more than a block away, he quickened his pace.

It was not until he was in the street in front of the structure that he realized it was deserted. He stopped.

A flash of red and silver ignited to his left, and he whirled about. Setting Anwen down, he pulled his
gladius
with one hand and pushed her behind his back with the other. Three Roman soldiers appeared suddenly in front of him, moving cautiously. He whirled around to the sound of hissing swords and the jangling of metal loricae at his back. There were nine of them.

Reflexively, his knees bent, he twisted his neck and shoulders to loosen them. Pulling a deep breath into his lungs, he whispered to Anwen, “I will force them to one side. You run as fast as your legs will take you. Is that clear?”

“Yes, father,” she replied obediently. This was not the first time she had to obey him without question, and he was grateful she remembered how.

In a swift move, he charged toward the three soldiers to his left, bringing his sword up and slamming it against the first Roman’s blade. The man fell back startled by Thane’s speed and tripped over one of the other soldiers, knocking him to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Thane saw a blur of blonde hair pass them. He pushed harder, but the soldier and his companions recovered quickly.

They drove him back into the center of the circle, but did nothing more than keep him there; none of the advances were deadly. Thane knew the odds were impossible, but he would buy his daughter the precious minutes she needed to escape. Before he could charge again, a child’s scream stopped him. A sharp order echoed over the soldiers’ heads, and they lowered their blades.

A tall red crested helmet was the first thing Thane saw. Under it was a Roman officer, his face stern. He moved toward Thane and stopped in front of him.

“Put down your weapon, gladiator.” The voice was crisp, disciplined.

Lowering his sword, Thane twisted his neck to see someone behind the officer. It was not the man that caught his attention, but a small child, a girl, her shoulders gripped so tightly, she winced back at him. When she saw him, her mouth and eyes widened, and she tried to run to him, but the man pulled her back harshly.

“Mabyn,” Thane whispered and immediately dropped his sword.

“Wise choice, Primus.”

It was only then that Thane lifted his eyes to take in the entire scene. Standing behind the Roman stood Abella with Mabyn’s shoulders in his hands. Next to him, held by another soldier, stood Phaedra. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes and nose red and puffy from crying. A third soldier tugged Anwen struggling to join the group. It took him a moment to make sense out of what he was seeing.

Abella? Here?
Everything went loose inside him, and he threw his head back to scream at the sky, but a soldier snagged the sword on the ground and pushed him forward to confront Abella.

“Had I known you took them, I would have crucified your comrades at the
ludus
,” Abella snarled at him letting loose of Mabyn. She ran to Phaedra, hiding behind her. “That will be remedied when we return to Britannia.” He turned to the officer. “Thank you, Centurion. I would appreciate it if you would escort the gladiator to the arena. He has a fight tonight.”

The officer nodded to his men, and they moved to grapple Thane to the ground. He gave them little resistance. When they got him to his knees, he stared at Phaedra as they tightened manacles around his wrists and got a collar around his neck.

When the tall Roman officer approached him, the soldiers on either side tightened their grip. “You were traveling with a pirate, an Egyptian named Hasani. Where is he?” he asked smoothly.

Thane frowned at him. “He left us a few blocks back, before the market. He headed east as far as I know.”

The officer nodded to his men and three of them split off from the rest to sprint down the street. “If you are lying…”

“Why would I lie? I would kill him myself, if I could. He is no friend of mine.”

“Are you done, sir?” Abella asked shifting his eyes from side to side. “Can you please take him to the arena now? They will have barely enough time left to prepare him as it is.”

“As you wish.” He nodded again at his men.

As they jostled Thane to his feet, he glared at Abella. “Where is Bahar?” he demanded.

“She is safe, for the time being.”

He knew. Abella knew Bahar was a girl. “What have you done…”

“They took her to…” Phaedra called out, but received the back of Abella’s hand before she could finish. Her lip went bloody from the blow, but she did not cry out.

“You have me, Abella…” Thane’s voice came out strained, harsh. “You no longer need them. Let them go.”

Abella caught Phaedra’s hair in his fingers before she could move. He touched her bloody lip almost tenderly and wiped the blood on her tunic. “This one will light the front of my house when we return, a witches pyre to burn away her transgressions. You should be grateful. She no doubt used her witchcraft to beguile you as well. But the children…” His glance slithered from one to the other. “They will return with you as slaves in my house to ensure your future obedience. They should grow to be great beauties; I am certain they would be excellent additions to my chamber.” He nodded to the officer who signaled to his men.

The soldiers almost lost him when Thane suddenly jumped at Abella, coming within inches of tackling him. They pulled him back and quickly swept him away from the house.

There was nothing more he could do. He had failed his children, he had failed Phaedra and he had failed Bahar. The pain of the confining irons biting into his flesh went numb as the soldiers rushed him down the street. He had failed them all.

Chapter XXXVIII

Phaedra stared at the goblet of water one of the guards had brought her. The water tasted bitter against her regret. Forcing it down, she lifted her eyes to Thrasea who sat quietly toying with the food on his plate. He had said less than ten words since they brought him down to eat and posted guards at the atrium entrance and the back of the house. Evening was approaching and the light from the open ceiling turned the garden into dusk. The torches and lanterns remained dark.

Abella had left for the arena while the centurion and other soldiers searched for Hasani, as far as she knew. There had been quick instructions when an older Roman appeared in a very ornate uniform and headpiece. The centurion had saluted him and followed his order. She tried to hear them, but all she could make out was Hasani’s name.

Glancing over at the girls who sat on the ground at another table, it struck her how mature they were. They had both cried when Thane was taken away, yet when the soldiers picked them up, they clamped down their lips and glared at them hotly. Phaedra had never seen that much presence in a child before. She wondered if she would have shown such courage.

“What do you think they will do now?”

Phaedra turned to Thrasea. “I wish I knew.”

She swallowed down the fear and lifted her fork to pierce a piece of cold meat off her plate. When she put it in her mouth, it had no flavor, but she forced herself to chew and swallow, knowing she would need strength in the next hours.

Her back was to the atrium entrance, but she knew there was a tall Roman guard there, waiting for his regiment to return, like all Roman soldiers, well-muscled and highly skilled. The soft whisper of the armor’s metal against metal when the solider moved stung her ears; the clamor reminded her sharply of that day she had watched Bahar fight, the day Thane had first touched her. She wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and weep, but her dazed brain robbed her even of that. Staring at nothing, she lifted a hand to brush hair out of her face absently; it floated around her as light as air.

“Pater,” she said quietly without looking at Thrasea, “I have no intention of just sitting here. We have to do something.”

Thrasea frowned at her. “Do something? Do you have any idea what you are up against?”

“Of course I do,” she snarled. “I have to try. I will not let my sister die…” Her voice broke, and she bit her tongue to mend it. “Or Thane.”

“I understand that, child, but what can we do?”

“I will think of something.”

When Thrasea rose to bolster the fire, Phaedra watched the sparkling embers whirl into eddies of light. For some reason they conjured a vision of Althea kneading pine resin on her beaten table.

“Be mindful of the pitch. It is sticky and must be kneaded with the oil carefully. Watch your elbow, girl! If that sulfur were to spill onto the pitch…”

Sparks had flown that night when Althea used not more than a cup of the concoction to burn off several moss covered building stones her father wanted for the garden. They were as clear in her mind now as they had been that night; blue, red, and even green showering embers filling the night as the flames slowly licked the stones clean.