“What is your bargain?” A hint of wariness crept into her voice.
“I will keep my distance, if you give your word not to escape.”
She shook her head. “No, I…I couldn’t make such a promise and plan to keep it. I won’t run off into the night again. I’ve learned my lesson on that score, but if another opportunity presents itself, I’ll take it.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh at her honesty or march her upstairs and chain her to a wall to ensure she never left him. “What if I vow—”
“To allow me to tell you about Christ?”
“What?” He’d never dreamed she’d bargain with something ridiculous. “I’ve no interest in your sect.”
“I’ve no interest in living as a slave, either, but I won’t try to leave—for a time—if you agree to give me a hearing.”
Intrigued, Caros studied her. Why would she endure a life she found despicable just to tell him the ramblings of a crucified Hebrew? On the other hand, her offer might be the perfect solution. His agreement would buy enough time to break down her barriers and win her capitulation. He would have his way and what would it cost him to listen? It wasn’t as if she were asking for his soul.
He planted the torch in the holder beside the door and cupped her face with his hands. Aware this might be the last time he touched her for what would seem an eternity, he memorized the texture of her soft skin and searched the depths of her earnest gaze. “I’ll agree to your terms, for a fortnight, Pelonia. But be warned, my beautiful slave, by the end of two weeks’ time I will have won your surrender. You’ll never want to leave me.”
“You think too highly of yourself, lanista.”
A wolfish grin curved his lips. “Possibly, but remember, I’ve never lost a battle and I have no intention of losing this one.”
Chapter Eight
Caros stood on the edge of the training field. The early morning sun shone hot and bright, glinting on the golden sand. Amid the clang of metal and grunts of pain, a dozen of his newest acquisitions fought to prove their worth.
None of them impressed him enough to sway his thoughts from Pelonia’s escape of the previous night. Unable to sleep, he’d woken Alexius and railed at him for nearly an hour. The Greek had been no help. He’d merely laughed and asked how it felt to be enamored.
He’d almost punched his champion until he remembered Pelonia’s disdain for violence. He’d stormed back to his own rooms then, convinced she’d whispered incantations over him. By the gods, he was Caros Viriathos, champion of the ring. A lanista surrounded by a sea of brutality. Until she arrived, he’d accepted the carnage that defined his existence.
Forcing visions of her soft brown eyes from his mind, he watched one of his assistants divide the trainees into six pairs. He concentrated on his men, but the bargain he’d struck with his beautiful slave kept luring his attention. Winning her favor dangled in front of him like honey before a starving man. Their battle of wills excited him like nothing he’d ever tasted. Other than granting her freedom, which would ruin his chance to see her, he’d do anything to win her favor.
He wished he’d sought her out this morning to relieve his concerns and determine her state of mind. Instead, he’d given orders not to wake her. After last night’s ordeal, he felt she needed rest and tender care. The special meal he’d ordered for her pleasure included the finest food and drink Rome had to offer.
His musings turned black when he considered Lucia and her evil tricks. Justice demanded she be punished. He could not allow a snake to thrive in his home.
Caros picked up a gladius and entered the field before approaching a pair of trainees. The moment his shadow touched them, the shorter slave dropped his wooden, practice sword and backed away in fright.
Ignoring the coward, he addressed the taller, better fighter. “You were among the men I bought from Aulus’s caravan, were you not?”
The slave nodded. “He bought us from a prison guard in Amiternum just days before our execution.”
Typical. Many gladiators began their career in a similar fashion. Either a trader like Aulus bought and sold them for profit or the condemned were carted directly to the gladiatorial schools. Who better to perish for the mob’s entertainment than those already sentenced to die? “What is your name?”
The man lifted his chin. “Quintus Fabius Ambustus.”
“Why were you sentenced to death?”
Quintus squared his shoulders. “I refuse to worship the emperor.”
Another Christian? Was he being surrounded? Only Jews and Christians denied what everyone else in the empire accepted by law whether they believed it or not. “If not the emperor, who do you believe is divine?”
“Jesus, the Christ,” Quintus answered with conviction.
Caros’s thoughts shifted back to Pelonia. What if she discovered he had another of her kind beneath his roof? After a steady diet, Quintus no longer appeared bone-thin or hollow-eyed. Good food and fresh water had restored life to his face and strength to his body. A woman might even think his dark hair and green eyes were somewhat handsome.
He frowned. What if Pelonia found Quintus appealing? They shared the same religion, something she believed necessary for a happy union. Could that common ground breed a deeper bond between them? What if her heart became entangled with the slave’s and he lost all chance to make her his?
Jealousy, an emotion he’d never felt before and one he instantly hated, sizzled through him. He scowled and the Christian wisely backed away. “Whatever brought you here, you’re my property for the time being. When you’re ready, you’ll enter the ring and achieve death or glory. It’s up to you, but considering the investment I’ve made in your scrawny hide, I hope you’ll choose the glory.”
Quintus began to reply, but one of the guards crossed the sand and interrupted him. “Master, forgive me, but you said to inform you when the woman left her room. I believe she’s headed for the garden.”
Mindful of the bargain she’d struck with Caros the night before, Pelonia dressed quickly. She hadn’t fallen asleep until dawn. Waking moments ago, she’d leaped from her pallet; the angle of the sun telling her it was already midmorning.
Her thoughts consumed by Caros, she hurried down the corridor. How strange the very person she’d sought to escape had been the one whose arms she’d clung to. Now, thanks to her vow, she was bound for a fortnight to give up her goal of freedom.
Strangely at ease with her situation, she grabbed up a wash bucket and clean linen cloth from the pantry before making her way outside and into the herb garden. Perhaps her time here had a purpose after all. Unless the Lord chose otherwise, Caros might never have another chance to hear the Good News.
As she collected water from the fountain, smoke from the kitchen fires mingled with the smell of chicken roasting for the noonday meal. Her stomach grumbling, she cupped her hands under the fountain’s flow and splashed her face before quickly cleaning her teeth with the cloth.
Behind her a twig snapped. She picked up the overflowing bucket and turned, expecting one of the house slaves had come to berate her tardiness.
Her heart tripped. Cat watched her from a short distance away. His bright golden eyes studied her, his long, striped tail twitched. With a low growl, the tiger prowled toward her.
The bucket slipped from her fingers. Cold water splashed on her sandaled feet, soaking the hem of her tunic. Her gaze darted to the path that led back to the house. Anxious for an escape route or any sign of Caros, she saw neither.
Frozen with fright, she reminded herself the predator was a pet. Caros was probably somewhere close behind him. Gathering her courage, she stretched out her trembling palm and prayed the huge tiger wasn’t hungry. “Hello, Cat. Do…do you remember me?”
Cat sniffed her fingers, then licked her palm with his abrasive tongue. He bumped her hand with his nose and pressed against her, snuggling his large head to her chest. She braced herself against the fountain to keep from falling backward.
T
aking the hint, she ran her fingers over his fur, paying special attention to each of his silken ears. Delighted by the experience of being so close to the exotic animal, she combed her fingers through the thick ruff of fur around his studded, leather collar.
“You’re as sweet as a babe, aren’t you, Cat?” No longer fearful, she remained cautious and scratched his chin, delighted to hear his soft sounds of enjoyment.
Snide laughter drew Pelonia’s attention toward the garden entrance. Lucia strolled up the path toward her. The empty bucket she held swayed by her side.
“You’ve conquered the master, now you seek to tame the tiger, as well?”
Cat’s massive body tensed. Pelonia tried to soothe him by stroking his ears, but the tiger remained alert, watchful. “I see you’re not surprised I’m here, Lucia. I imagine you were disappointed when you learned Caros brought me back.”
“Are you accusing me of something? If so, don’t mince words. Speak plainly.”
Before she’d fallen asleep last night, she’d come to realize Lucia’s true purpose had never been to help her. She felt foolish for not seeing through the woman’s plans, but now realized her craving for freedom had blinded her to Lucia’s true motives.
“Did you ever believe I had a chance for escape?”
A smirk curved the healer’s mouth. Her dark eyes were as hard as chips of jet. “No.”
“Then why did you lie?”
“I wanted you gone. But I’ve accepted you’re like the stink of old fish, impossible to get rid of unless the master disposes of you himself.”
“Not true!” Her outrage clamored for release. “I wanted to flee. I’d have succeeded if you’d done as you promised and arranged for someone to guide me to my cousin.”
“Your plan would have proven worthless in the end.” Lucia moved toward the fountain. “Caros is bewitched by you. He would have hunted you down and brought you back unless he became disgusted by the sight of you.”
“He might try, but he’d need a legion to drag me back here once I reached my family. My cousin’s husband is a senator. Do you think he’d let me rot in degradation when he has the influence to see me freed?”
Her back to the garden, the healer plunged her bucket beneath the fountain’s flow. “By law you’re the property of our master. If he refuses to sell, you can’t be bought. He told you so himself. Why didn’t you believe him?”
Because a future with no end to her enslavement was no future at all. “I’m certain he can be brought to reason.”
Lucia shook her head. “I’ve been a slave my entire life. The lanista’s slave since he opened the doors of this school three years past. I’ve seen how a man gazes at the woman he craves and I can see how much Caros yearns for you.”
“You blame me for this?”
“Somehow you’ve made yourself a challenge to him and he never gives up until he’s won.”
“I’ve given him no reason to pursue me.”
Lucia’s lip curled. “He’s drawn to your innocence. I won’t accept it’s anything more. If I hadn’t been ill-used since girlhood, I’m certain I’d tempt him just as you have. My plan would have succeeded if only I’d waited longer to tell him you were gone.”
Pelonia gaped, mystified by the bizarre workings of the woman’s brain. “You make no sense. If you wanted me gone, why tell him I’d fled at all?”
“If you simply disappeared, he might have become obsessed to find you. As it was, I wanted him to see your disgrace. I wished for him to find you in the arms of another man. To have the image seared into his mind so he would never look on you with tenderness again. If you were not so pure, I’m convinced he’d lose all interest and send you away.”
Numbed by Lucia’s venom, Pelonia watched Cat trot toward the gate. Her breath hitched when she saw Caros beneath one of the olive trees a short distance down the path. He lifted his index finger to his lips, warning her to silence.
Pelonia’s gaze darted back to where Lucia stood tangled in her own thoughts, her fingers locked on the lip of the fountain as if her outburst had drained her of strength. “I’ve waited three years for Caros to love me. With all of my being, I’ve longed to know the gentleness he’s shown you without reservation.”
The quiet confession tugged at Pelonia’s heart, but the brutality she’d endured was still too raw to forgive the other woman. A light breeze rustled the lemon trees. Caros moved forward. Her eyes downcast, the healer didn’t seem to notice his approach.
“Lucia, a word with you.” His icy calm made Pelonia squirm with dread.
Lucia spun toward him, banging the bucket of water she’d placed by her feet. “Master, I didn’t see you.”
“So I gathered from the conversation.”
The color drained from Lucia’s face. “I can explain.”
“No, allow me,” he said coldly. “I rescued you from cruelty and made you an important member of this household. I gave you responsibility and more liberty as a slave than most free women ever dream of. You repaid my generosity with lies, theft—”
“Master, I never—”
“Don’t interrupt me.” The entire garden seemed to cringe from the quiet force of his rage. “You repaid me with jealousy and petty envy. Envy that would have seen a blameless girl raped and possibly murdered without a qualm.”
“But Caros,” Lucia whispered, placing her hand on his forearm with inappropriate familiarity. “You must listen to me!”
The woman must be insane. Pelonia worried for her welfare. Couldn’t she see Caros teetered on the edge of committing mayhem? Why didn’t Lucia heed the warnings of his clenched fists or the nerve ticking in his jaw? Why did she just stand there and not run for safety?
Caros cast her hand from him as though it were diseased. “You will be punished for aiding the escape of a slave and for slandering your master. You’ll be whipped, then sold. Never darken my door again.”
“Noooo!” Lucia fell to her knees, tears coursing down her face. “Please don’t do this, Master. I love you. Can’t you see the truth? If not for her, you would have come to me.”
Unable to watch the piteous sight, Pelonia turned away. Lucia’s broken spirit sparked her compassion. When she thought of her own failings, the transgressions that stained her soul, who was she to judge the other woman? Without Christ’s boundless love and forgiveness she might be as hopeless.
Lucia’s sobs rang through the garden. She called Caros’s name, begging him to hear her, but he remained deaf to her pleas. With Cat beside him, he didn’t stop except to speak with a set of guards outside the gate.
Once Caros disappeared beyond her sight, she approached the other woman as though Lucia were a wounded animal. Seeing the guards move closer, she knelt beside the healer, unsure of the welcome she’d receive. When Lucia continued to weep, Pelonia eased her into an embrace.
Lucia didn’t fight. She cried harder. Her tears soaked Pelonia’s shoulder. A hard lump formed in her throat as she stroked Lucia’s hair, silent in her attempt at solace.
When the tears subsided, Lucia pulled away, her cheeks blotchy, her eyes lifeless. She wiped the damp rivulets from her face. “Can you imagine the pain I’ve endured since you came here? I’ve had to tend your wounds, ensure you lived, while knowing every day the man I worship is falling deeper and deeper under your spell.”
Before Pelonia could reply, the guards seized Lucia and shuffled her from the garden, ignoring Pelonia’s entreaties to stop. Distressed by the woman’s treatment, she tried to imagine the hardship of Lucia’s life, the harshness of an existence without affection.
She recalled her own history, the blessing of being raised by a father who cared for her and taught her of Christ’s love. Her strength came from the truth she’d learned, the certainty that came from being nurtured in faith even when circumstances made her question God’s fairness.
But what of Lucia? A slave from birth, she’d been denied familial attachment and weaned on the uncertainty of their society’s fear and superstiti
on. Who could blame her for dreaming of a life with a man of Caros’s strength or for fighting for her place when she felt threatened?
Pelonia filled the buckets and carried them to an untended corner of the garden. Somehow she would have to sway Caros from the punishment he’d chosen. But how did she ask for mercy from a man who’d never known compassion? Why would he listen to her when, despite what Lucia claimed, she was nothing more to him than a challenge?
A guard approached and gave orders for her to meet Caros in the house. Eager to speak with him, she washed her hands and made her way to the cool interior courtyard where the smell of fresh bread and a table laden with delicacies awaited her.
Caros wasn’t to be found, but the tall stranger she’d seen with him yesterday entered the open air space from the direction of the living quarters. With his hair rumpled and his short tunic wrinkled, he looked as though he’d just risen from a deep sleep. Not wanting to disturb one of Caros’s guests, she turned to leave.
“Wait,” he said, a Greek accent edging his Latin, “I’m Alexius, Caros’s champion. You must be Pelonia, his newest paramour.”
“I’m no such thing,” she denied hotly.
“Of course you’re not.” A grin parted his lips, creating a long dimple in each of his lean cheeks. “That’s why Caros woke me in the middle of the night ranting about you. It seems you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Is that what he told you?”
He shook his head, the sunlight glinting off his dark hair. “No, my opinion only. Is it true Lucia’s to be whipped and sold today?”
“Not if I can stop it.”
He moved to the table and chose an oatcake glistening with honey. “You think you can change Caros’s mind?”
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