The Gladiator

by Carla Capshaw

  “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.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Pelonia 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 bo
th 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 mistres
s 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.