The Champion

by Carla Capshaw

  “The gossips are wrong,” she whispered, stricken by the knowledge that he troubled himself more with the opinion of strangers than with the slightest concern for her welfare. “Do you even care where I’ve been or if I’m all right?”

  She met with stony silence and flinty eyes. “I can see you’re breathing. That is plenty.”

  “How did you find me?” she asked, expecting his hostility, but oddly not as hurt by his coldness as she had been in the past.

  “How does a cat find a mouse? By visiting her favorite holes.” He picked up a blue glass pitcher and poured honeyed wine into a matching chalice. He swirled the potent liquid as he spoke. “You think you’re clever, but you have much to learn, my little mouse. I have eyes all over this city. Patrons three deep, each of whom owes me favors and loyalty. All your favorite places have been watched. My men have searched Claudius’s old garden at least twice a day since you disappeared from here. But had you shown your face at the bath or gymnasium, the theater, that Forum tunic maker you frequent, the library or even one of those orphanages I forbade you to visit, you would have been found and brought back to me.”

  Her temper sparked. He’d expended so much effort to find her and all to prove to his neighbors that he was strong enough to bend her to his will. “I’m sorry to cause you such trouble.”

  He lifted the chalice to his lips. “Not sorry enough, but you will be.”

  She felt her face pale. Her knees weakened. What did he mean? What new punishment had he devised for her to suffer? She lifted her chin, wishing with all her being that she’d never left the ludus or Alexius’s loving arms. “Do you plan to kill me?”

  “I should, but if I were going to end your life, I’d have exposed you on the day of your birth.”

  She blanched. Babes born deformed, sickly or deemed unfit—almost always girls—were often left to die in the elements. She wasn’t deformed and as far as she knew she’d been a healthy infant, albeit female. She focused on a potted fern to help maintain her composure. If she wanted to get a definitive reason for why her father had always despised her, this was her chance to ask. “Why didn’t you put me out?”

  “Believe me, I planned to.”

  Her chin quivered. “Because I wasn’t the son you wished for?”

  “In part, but that’s the least of the matter.” He placed the chalice on the table beside his couch and sat back down. “Your mother was involved in an affair with a married man she claimed to love. There’s a chance you might be his.”

  Too shocked to speak, Tibi staggered to the nearest chair and sank into the soft red cushions. He’d meant to lay her low with the news and aimed his poisoned arrow well, but she managed to hold her head high, refusing to let him see her bleed.

  “I learned of her indiscretion a few weeks before she came to term with you,” he said without emotion. “The scandalmongers were laughing behind my back. All of them claimed I was too weak to keep my wife under control.”

  “Just as they say you can’t control me.”

  He nodded. “Like mother, like daughter. Where do you think the line of gossip came from so soon after you won that archery competition?”

  He idly picked at the potted fern beside him. “I told your mother to ingest silphium or wormwood to rid her body of you before you were born, but she refused. I threatened to expose you, but she promised to divorce me if I did. The threat carried weight because in those days most of my coin came from her side of the family. On the other hand, she didn’t want her lover named as the reason for our divorce. She and I made a pact instead. I’d let you live in return for an eighth of her dowry, the promise she’d leave the other man and become the docile wife I demanded.”

  “Tiberia?” Tibi whispered.

  “She has my look about the eyes and is mine as far as I know. If nothing else, at least she’s proved useful in her marriage.”

  “Who might my father be?” Tibi wondered aloud, beginning to recover a measure of inner calm.

  “He’s dead.” Fire flared in his dark eyes, belying his phlegmatic attitude toward the subject at hand. “That’s all you need to know.”

  He reached for his glass and took another drink of wine. “At the time, the agreement between your mother and me suited me greatly. The portion of dowry I received was the same as I’d have gleaned in a divorce.” He shrugged. “And there was always the chance you might have been a boy.”

  “Would you have loved me then?”

  “I doubt it. Every time I look at you I remember how your mother went behind my back and deceived me.” He waved his hand, splashing the wine from the chalice. “At least keeping you silenced the gossips for a time and repaired your mother’s bruised reputation. After all, what shamed husband keeps a child if he believes there’s a chance the brat might not be his?”

  “You think there is a possibility I’m yours? Or are you confident I’m not?” she said, hoping he wasn’t her father and frustrated by his refusal to name the man who might be her true sire.

  “No one can know with full certainty. I thought we’d see a likeness of one or the other of us in you, but even then you foiled my plans. Your dark eyes could come from any one of a thousand men in Italy and the rest of you takes after your barbarian grandmother.”

  The evening’s breeze rustled the firelight. Suddenly glad her blond hair and pale skin made her an oddity that frustrated Tiberius, she felt liberated to learn the true reasons behind his antipathy toward her. She saw now that she was not the problem he’d labeled her since her earliest memories. All the effort she’d expended to please him was in vain, but not because of any intrinsic flaw on her part. His eyes were clouded by his own failure as a man and a husband, yet he was determined to see her as the picture of disappointment.

  Eager to leave and return to Alexius, she appreciated her gladiator more by the moment. He’d shown her more respect and honor in a week than she’d experienced in the previous eighteen years. He’d helped her see how she should be treated and what behavior to accept from others. Tiberius failed on all counts. Whether he was her true father or not, the heartless man no longer held sway over her outlook. What kind of callous man sought to grind a girl into dust for the sins of her mother? As far as she was concerned, she’d already wasted too much of her life trying to please the merciless tyrant.

  No longer.

  From now on she planned to spend the rest of her days glorying in the love of a magnificent man who accepted her freely and without reservation.

  That Alexius loved her amazed her still, but she believed him because he’d helped her see her own value. If he would have her, she’d marry him tomorrow, tonight or even within the next hour, if possible. Tiberius had best give his permission and not stand in her way to wed, either. The information he’d imparted concerning her birth had been meant to hurt her. Instead, he’d cut her free and created an arsenal of ammunition to use at her discretion since he, not she, cared so very much for public opinion.

  “I’m leaving.” She stood and called for a slave to fetch her cloak. “I do regret any embarrassment or difficulties I’ve caused you in the past. As I’ve said, that was never my intention. I’m grateful you didn’t leave me to the elements as an infant, but as of right now I wish to end our…association.”

  “I think you’re mistaken, Tiberia.”

  Hearing her full name, she began to tremble. Conditioned to fear the worst, she sought out the nearest way of escape.

  Tiberius snapped his fingers. The woman bringing her cloak changed course and scurried in the opposite direction. At the same moment, the burly slaves who’d kidnapped her from the river appeared in each of the two side doorways.

  “What are you planning?” she demanded of Tiberius, her heart racing like a rabbit being chased by a wolf.

  “You were born under a cloud of embarrassment and shame. This last act on your part must be dealt with, for I’m done being forced to defend my reputation because of your rebellious ways. Once and for all, I mean to prove I am m
aster of this house.”

  She ran for the one unimpeded door.

  “Silvo!” Tiberius shouted for his steward.

  The huge Campanian filled the open arch that led to the interior of the house. She struggled to get past him, but Silvo was too strong for her. Merciless hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her back into the courtyard. Orosius’s arm of iron banded around her waist and lifted her off her feet.

  “Lixus, fetch the cane,” Tiberius ordered.

  Tibi’s cries for mercy fell on deaf ears. Her screams for help rang through the house as Orosius carried her from the garden and into the yard where her father chastised his slaves. Cool, misty air dampened her skin. She kicked and twisted to get loose from the huge slave’s hold, but he held her deftly as he chained her wrists to the whipping post above her head.

  “I’m sorry, my lady,” Orosius whispered near her ear. “I have no choice.”

  Hot tears flowed down Tibi’s cheeks. Splinters poked her wrists and inner forearms. She’d never been caned, but she had been beaten enough to dread the onslaught of agony.

  Angry and terrified, she closed her eyes and cried out to the gods for mercy, but it was Pelonia’s God that came specifically to her mind. “Please, Jesus,” she whispered against the rough wood of the post. “Please, help me.”

  “Lixus, where are you?” Tiberius shouted behind her.

  “I’m here.” Tibi heard running. “All is ready.”

  “Then begin. It’s time my troublesome daughter learned a lesson she won’t soon forget.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Alexius charged through the gates of the ludus. He jumped down from Calisto’s saddle before one of the stable boys had time to kneel and offer his back as a step. His fear for Tibi’s safety had doubled during the wild ride across the waking city. Panic and reason vied for precedence with one overtaking the other every so often. Hammered by frustration, he cursed the gods, then begged them for mercy. White hot rage bubbled in his belly, promising mayhem if he didn’t find her soon.

  “Master!” Velus rushed toward him as Alexius climbed the front steps. “Your guest—”

  Relief sparked. “Has Tibi…?”

  “No,” the dwarf corrected with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry. She hasn’t come back yet. Master Caros along with his family and friends arrived an hour after sunrise.”

  Disappointment crashed over him. He ordered more men to return to the abandoned garden. Any other time he’d be ecstatic to see his friends, but Tibi was missing. They presented a distraction from his quest to find her and he resented the intrusion. “Have you told them what’s happened?”

  “No, I thought you’d prefer to do so.”

  “Where are they?” he snapped.

  “The women and nursemaids are seeing to the children upstairs. Their husbands are waiting for you in your office.”

  The cooler, darker interior of the house surrounded him. Panic-stricken and exhausted from hours of futile searching, Alexius clawed his dirty hand through his hair and swore under his breath. Small nicks and cuts crusted with dried blood marked his skin, proclaiming his search under every thornbush and dilapidated statue. His injured side raged with fire, though he’d walked through miles of river.

  He stalked across the house in the mood for bloodshed, not rounds of merry greetings.

  From out in the corridor, he saw the two large men in his office. They were talking as though the bright spring day beyond the open window was a true reflection of the world and not the dark chaos plaguing Alexius.

  Both men were tall and well-muscled with black hair. Caros, the brawnier of the two, bore the scars from over a decade in the gladiatorial trade. He remained one of Rome’s most famous champions. In the three years since he’d wed Pelonia and become a Christian, Caros had changed in ways Alexius hadn’t thought possible. Gone was the lethal coldness that made seasoned killers tremble. Instead, he was a contented husband and father with a peace about him that other men envied.

  Quintus, a wealthy merchant once enslaved for his faith, had no visible scars from the many months he’d trained as a gladiator, but his discerning eyes were as sharp as a gladius with the ability to slice to the heart of any matter. His marriage to the renowned beauty Adiona Leonia had sent shock waves through the city two and a half years earlier. The fact that Quintus had managed to win Adiona, a sworn man-hater whose outrageous wealth rivaled that of a queen, made him somewhat of a legend throughout the city.

  “There he is.” Caros smiled. The gladness in his expression turned to concern the moment Alexius crossed into the office. “What’s happened, my friend? Are you ill? Has someone died?”

  Alexius’s jaw tightened. He refused to consider Tibi’s death or how his heart would perish along with her. To his eternal embarrassment his throat closed up and his chest constricted. “It’s Tibi…” he managed to choke.

  “Tibi?” Caros frowned in puzzlement. “You mean Pelonia’s cousin, Tiberia the Younger?”

  Unable to speak further, Alexius nodded. His gaze swung between Caros and Quintus like a wounded animal’s begging for mercy. Instinctively, he knew he could count on them to help him. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed these men, who were as much brothers to him as friends.

  Both men crossed to him in the middle of the room. Their faces reflected true anxiety for his unusually downcast state. Giving him a chance to collect himself, Quintus pulled up a chair and Caros pressed him down into the padded seat.

  “What’s happened to her, Alexius?” Caros asked.

  “I can’t find her.” He swallowed convulsively. Over the rock lodged in his throat, he gave them a quick account of their trip to the garden the previous day. He left out the personal details and ended with finding Tibi gone when he awoke at sundown.

  “Why were you with her in the first place?” Caros’s sky-blue eyes narrowed on him with suspicion. “You gave me your word—”

  “And I’ve kept it! I haven’t touched her no matter how much I’ve been tempted this past week.”

  “Past week?”

  Alexius groaned, regretting his loose tongue. Struggling not to be vexed by all the questions, he acknowledged and appreciated Caros’s concern for his cousin by marriage.

  Caros scowled. “You’d best explain.”

  Alexius gave him the skeletal version of events since Tibi’s arrival the previous week.

  “You mean you’ve been using an innocent young girl to train gladiators?” Caros raked his hand through his hair.

  “I didn’t force her.” Alexius surged to his feet, wincing at the sharp pain in his side. “And I’d do it again, if it pleased her. She thrived on sharing her skill. Silo and I agree—she’s one of the best archers either of us has ever seen.”

  “That’s not the point—”

  “No, it isn’t,” Quintus interjected a voice of calm. “You’re in love with her, are you not?”

  “I don’t deny it.” Alexius moved to his desk and leaned against the carved edge. “I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life! Now I can’t find her. The men and I tore that garden apart. We searched both sides of the river for miles. I don’t know where else to look. I’m going mad thinking she might be hurt and depending on me to find her.”

  “When did this all start?” asked Quintus.

  “My guess is the first time he saw her,” Caros said. “The day I wed Pelonia three years ago.”

  “Three years?” Quintus whistled through his teeth.

  “I thought the months I loved Adiona from afar were torture, but I meant—”

  “It was.”

  All three men looked toward the doorway at once. Adiona stood in the open arch, a vision in flowing light blue silk. Her glossy black hair was arranged with effortless elegance and her amber eyes glowed with love as she gazed at Quintus.

  “Utter torture,” she reiterated as she glided across the tiled floor to her husband. At his side, she smiled up at him as though he lit the su
n each morning.

  Again, Alexius was struck by the change in the woman he’d known for the past six years. Once icy enough to give a man frostbite for looking in her general direction, she’d always been outwardly stunning. Marriage and faith had changed her cold persona and given her an inner glow that warmed everyone who came near her.

  She turned her amber eyes on Alexius. “How is my favorite Greek? The children are clamoring to see their uncle Alexius.”

  “Not well.”

  She frowned. “What has happened?”

  Quintus put his arm around her slim waist and pulled her close to his side. “Pelonia’s cousin, Tibi, is missing.”

  “Does Pelonia know?” Adiona asked with instant worry. “Who is looking for the girl?”

  “She doesn’t know yet,” Caros said, his expression closed. “Alexius has just returned from the river where Tibi disappeared. Other men are on their way as we speak.”

  “Then we must tell Pelonia. She’ll want to pray with us for her cousin’s safe return.”

  “We will. We’re trying to fish the details out of Alexius first.”

  She pinned Alexius with a knowing look he didn’t fully understand. “Speak up, gladiator. We have prayers to begin.”

  “I’ve already explained! She came here last week in distress caused by a row she’d had with father. I agreed to keep her here until Caros and Pelonia arrived because Senator Tacitus suggested she wasn’t safe in her own home. Yesterday, we went to a garden she wished to show me on the banks of the Tiber. I fell asleep and when I woke up, she was gone.”

  Adiona looked up at Quintus. “I told you.”

  He kissed her brow. “You were right. He’s already admitted that he loves her.”

  “Really? When?”

  “A few moments before you arrived,” said Quintus.

  “Why are you not surprised?” Alexius rubbed his ribs, pain and exhaustion wearing him low.

  “Pelonia and I guessed your feelings years ago….” She looked quizzically at his side. “Are you bleeding?”