The Champion

by Carla Capshaw

  He stilled, knowing a good tactical decision depended on being informed of the facts. “And?”

  “If you force your way in, there’s a healthy chance he’ll harm Tibi just to prove that he has the right.”

  “What are the other options you devised?”

  “We can wait for Antonius to go tomorrow and determine if Tibi is there.”

  “You can’t expect me to sit here all night and twiddle my thumbs,” he ground out between clamped teeth. “I can’t! I’m not able to do nothing.”

  “I know. I want to do whatever is possible as well, but I know my uncle. It’s unwise to surprise a viper in his own nest.”

  Adiona joined them, the pale color of her flowing stola glowed white in the lantern light. “What’s happened?” she asked, signaling to lower their voices or risk disturbing the praying group in the garden. “Is Tibi with you?”

  “No,” answered Pelonia, quick to explain the situation.

  Adiona grimaced. She looked to Alexius. “Tibi’s going to be your wife. What will you have all of us do?”

  He scraped his hand through his hair. “I want to kick his door down and snatch her from her father’s hateful clutches.”

  “Sounds perfectly reasonable to me,” Adiona said matter-of-factly.

  “Adiona!” Pelonia’s gasped whisper carried across the entryway. “What of the harm that scenario will create?”

  “I don’t see any difficulties arising from his plan.” Adiona smiled at Alexius. He groaned inwardly. Her tone suggested there was so much trouble attached to his desired course of action that he’d be an addled fool to attempt it. Growing more agitated by the moment, he glared at her. As a former matron of Rome, she was well-versed in political intrigue, stratagems and maneuvering louts like Tiberius. “What do you suggest I do, my lady? Follow Pelonia’s advice and seek out the senator tomorrow?”

  “What’s going on?” Caros said. He and Quintus joined them.

  “Adiona is about to tell me how to fetch Tibi from her father without causing a small war.”

  Quintus glanced at his wife, his eyes full of pride. “If anyone knows how, she will.”

  Caros put his arm around Pelonia and held her tight as she informed him of events.

  “Which means Alexius must convince Senator Tacitus to find out if she’s there one way or the other,” Adiona said. “If memory serves, there’s no opinion Tiberius considers greater than that of his powerful son-in-law.”

  Alexius turned for the door. “I’ll return soon.”

  “We’ll come with you,” Quintus and Caros said at the same time, but he didn’t stop to wait.

  Outside, he shouted for the gate to be opened. Calisto was waiting as he’d ordered when Pelonia first returned.

  With a snap of the reins, he urged the horse to a full gallop, in a race to beat the closing of the city gates. Moonlight and a few randomly placed torches lit the near-empty streets.

  Calisto’s pounding hooves matched Alexius’s frantic heartbeat. “Please, God, just as You showed Quintus a way to save Adiona all those years ago, show me a way to reach Tibi.”

  The huge iron gates were being closed when he reached the city walls. Armed cohorts turned everyone away. Tents, campfires and people sleeping in open ox carts littered both sides of the road that offered free passage the next morning.

  Furious that he was only moments too late, Alexius considered scaling the walls out of pure frustration. Instead, he approached the gatekeeper and shamelessly used his fame and a few well-placed denarii to bribe his way past the guards who were impressed to meet a gladiator champion of his status.

  Alexius had no trouble finding the senator’s palace on the Palatine hill. Large brass bowls of fire illuminated the wide front steps and well-tended front garden. Corinthian columns supported a wide, red-painted portico lined with statuary and potted plants manicured to perfection.

  He passed the palace, seeking out Tiberius’s smaller domus instead. The lights had been extinguished in the main house for the night. He followed the plastered wall along the street until he reached the end of the property. A gate made of iron bars revealed a path leading to the rough two-story building that served as slaves’ quarters. A small fire surrounded by a ring of smooth stones provided some light. Three women sat in the shadows on the front steps braiding each other’s hair.

  Alexius tied Calisto’s reins to a low-lying tree branch on the dark side of the street. He waited in the shadows for a cart to go by before he crossed back to the gate and called to the women to get their attention.

  Two of the slaves came forward, suspicious enough of him to stay beyond his reach. The third waited on the steps, most likely ready to run for help if he proved dangerous.

  “Good evening, my doves.” He offered them the smile that he knew from experience worked wonders on women of all types. “I’m looking for some information for a friend of mine. I’m hopeful you’ll be willing to help me.”

  “My, you’re a pretty one!” said the first woman, a buxom brunette with pockmarked skin and a toothy smile. “I’ll share information with you…and anything else you have in mind.”

  Alexius grinned. “That’s kind of you, sweet. Unfortunately, I only have time for talk tonight. I’m looking for Tiberius Flavius.”

  Her smile turned into a sneer. “We’re his slaves. How do you know him?”

  “I’m here for my friend.”

  “And who’s your friend?” The second slave drew closer, tossing her long braid over her shoulder as she did so.

  “Just a friend.”

  The first slave looked him over with unconcealed suspicion. He guessed he earned her trust when she continued, “The master’s domus is over there if you’re looking to find it. What do you want with the old buzzard?

  “Hopefully to wring his overfed neck and pluck him for stew.” The second, younger girl laughed at her own joke.

  He glanced toward the house he’d passed down the street. “Is he gone or does he go to bed with the sun?”

  “He’s home. Wish the buzzard would fly away, but he’s been cooped up for the past week,” the brunette said with a twist of her thin lips.

  “Why is that?” Alexius tried to read the woman’s face, but the dim, red glow of the fire made it difficult to see more than shadows. “Has he been ill?”

  “No. He’s the kind of sour soul who’ll live forever just to torment everyone.”

  Encouraged by their dislike of Tiberius, Alexius brushed the bag of coins tied to his belt just enough to make the contents clink.

  “What of his daughter, the younger Tiberia? My friend is looking for her.”

  The brunette crossed her arms around her middle and looked pointedly at the bag of coins. “What does your friend want with her?”

  He casually untied the knot and slipped a copper coin from the leather pouch. He held it through the bars. “He’s worried about her. She disappeared yesterday.”

  The second girl came close enough to snatch the bribe from his fingers. “No, they brought her back yesterday. I saw her with my own eyes.”

  “You did?” He forced a smile. “Bless the gods. My friend will be most gratified to know she’s safe.”

  “I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” The brunette held out her palm. Alexius supplied her with her own copper piece. “The master’s been in a squawk ever since the lady defied him last week and ran away.”

  “Why did she go?” He noticed that the third girl had left the steps and come closer to better hear the conversation.

  The brunette shrugged, sending her oversize stola dangerously low. She told him the same story Tibi had about the broken betrothal, Tiberius’s fury, insults and threats. “Who wouldn’t run from a brute like that if they had the chance?”

  “I know I’d run like a horse with his tail on fire if I wouldn’t be beaten for it and dragged back here,” the second girl added. “I guess Lady Tibi’s not so different from us in that regard.”

  Alexius looked toward the star-fi
lled sky while he brooked the urge to rip the gate off its hinges and hunt down Tiberius. “She was beaten?”

  The second girl held out her hand. He gave her a coin. “I have a friend who’s a friend of one of the house slaves. According to my friend, her friend saw Lady Tibi caned. She said the girl is covered in welts and bruises from her shoulders to her ankles.”

  Bile rose in Alexius’s throat. Somehow he managed a look of mild interest while his hands gripped the bars of the gate. He squeezed, wishing the cold iron was Tiberius’s black heart.

  “I think it’s a shame she’s treated that way,” the younger slave continued. “She’s always been nice to me.”

  “Cardea. Rohesia. Vinius is coming. You’d best not let him see you out here gossiping with a stranger.”

  His informants wasted no time running back into the house. The third girl followed them at a slower pace, glancing back at him every few steps. Livid with Tiberius and promising to exact retribution for the old man’s actions, Alexius returned to Calisto. Sick at heart over Tibi’s treatment, he struggled to keep a clear head. He led Calisto from the copse of trees back to the street.

  “You there.” A woman’s voice came from the direction of the gate he’d left moments earlier. “Come here.”

  “What do you want?” The moon had hidden behind a cloud, limiting the already meager light. His hand on the knife sheathed at his belt, he moved closer to the voice. “I’m in no mood to be trifled with.”

  “Nor am I, gladiator.”

  That knocked him back. “Who are you?”

  The third slave moved from out of the shadows. He relaxed. “What do you mean by calling me gladiator?”

  “There’s no need for games. I know you, Alexius of Iolcos,” she said.

  He scowled, trying to place where he might have seen her before. “How?”

  “I used to be a house slave for Senator Tacitus. His interest in the games and you champions is incessant. I saw you at the fete he threw for you and your men last autumn. Lady Tibi was there also.”

  “I imagine the lady attends quite a few parties at her sister’s home.”

  “Yes, but the way you looked at her that night… Doubtless she went home singed.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, remembering the event. He hadn’t seen Tibi in months. She’d worn a tunic the color of a ripe peach. “How much will it cost me to keep you from telling anyone I was here?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “A denarius.”

  Figuring the girl thought she’d asked for a fortune, and not wanting her to demand more, he complained about being robbed as he fished the silver from among his other coins. With exaggerated reluctance, he handed it to her through the bars.

  She held the piece up to what remained of the firelight. Deeming it the amount she sought, she gave him a satisfied grin. “And another…if you want me to take you to your lady.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Finally losing his veneer of calm, Alexius rattled the bars in frustration. “Don’t toy with me, wench! Where is she?”

  The slave girl jumped back, her face deathly white in the blackness surrounding them. She turned and sprinted toward the slave quarters.

  “Wait! Come back. Please!” he called, not above begging when seeing Tibi was at stake.

  The girl stopped and contemplated him over her shoulder. “You looked liked a ferocious bear just then. You frightened me.”

  “I’m sorry. Please, come here. I swear I won’t hurt you. I’ll give you a fortune if you take me to Tibi.”

  Leaves crunched beneath her feet as she took a few hesitant steps back toward him. Her face was creased with wariness. “How can I trust you?”

  “I’m willing to trust you.”

  “I can’t kill you. I fear you can snap my neck like a blade of grass.”

  “Why would I harm you when I need you?”

  She bit her lower lip, considering his argument. “I want five denarii.”

  “You have it. Where is your master’s daughter?” Night insects chirped in the darkness. “You’ll have to wait here while I fetch the keys. I’ll bring my boy to watch your horse. He’ll need a denarius also.”

  She ran up the dirt path and disappeared into the slave quarters. Alexius led Calisto back to the trees across the street and waited in the dark with his horse. Aware that he might be walking into a trap, he didn’t care. Taking the chance was worth finding Tibi. “Are you still there, gladiator?” He sprinted across the street. “I’m here.” A young boy stood beside the slave. The keys rattled as she worked the lock. Apparently, she was more nervous than she seemed and he realized that by fetch she’d meant steal the keys, probably a second set kept by the cook. “What is your name, little thief?” “Ismene. This is my son, Itulus.” “What of the dogs? Surely, your master keeps them.” “He does. A pack of Molossi. They have yet to be loosed for the night. Several of us slaves have more work before sleep. The steward waits until we’re all on our pallets before unleashing the vicious beasts.” The key finally turned. She warily opened the gate.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassured her. He waited for Itulus to cross the road and listened for the birdcall signaling the boy had found Calisto. To keep from being trapped, he propped the gate shut with a piece of firewood.

  “Let’s stay close to the wall,” he told Ismene. “It’s a dark night, but the shadows there are darker still.”

  Near the house, they used the fruit trees for cover. At the back of the domus, large poplars stood on either side of the door. The faint smell of smoke drifted across the yard from the slaves’ dying bonfire. Ismene rattled the keys again, increasing Alexius’s anxiety as she felt for the right one in the dark.

  “By the gods!” she hissed. “I can’t find it.” She took the ring and stalked several paces away from the trees. She held up the keys to the sliver of moonlight available. “I still can’t see it. Her room is there.” She pointed to the second floor. “Why don’t you climb the tree and enter that way?”

  He squinted in her direction, trying to judge if she was joking. “Just how many robberies have you committed to think climbing trees and scaling walls is a task of no account?”

  She sighed impatiently. “Do you wish to see the lady or not? We only have so long before the dogs are released.”

  “Which window is it?” he growled.

  “That one.” She pointed to an indiscernible spot. “You can’t see it from here, but there’s always at least one lamp left for the lady. As you climb higher, you’ll see the glow.”

  “What if the shutters are closed?”

  “They’ll be open,” she replied with confidence.

  “And where will you be?” he asked, beginning to think she was pulling a prank on him.

  “I’m going to continue trying the keys. But you saw how long it took for me to try just one. Once I’m inside, I’ll check the house and see where the guards are. You won’t have to climb back down.”

  No, he would not. If there was any way to move Tibi, he’d have her with him. He hadn’t come all this way to leave her in the clutches of a madman.

  Recognizing the lunacy of his actions, he found the lowest limb and hoisted himself up, his need to see Tibi goading him on like a hot poker. He groaned in pain as his stitches pulled and lightning flared through his cracked ribs. Struggling to catch his breath, he looked back to his companion. “I’m trusting you.”

  “You can. I want that five denarii and to have a secret the master would kill to know. Now go and let me get back to these keys.”

  Reaching the second story was surprisingly quick once he found his rhythm climbing up the tree. Just as Ismene had told him, he began to see light the closer he came to the open window.

  He listened for voices or sounds of any kind. Hearing none, he felt along the house as he eased out on a limb toward the window ledge. The ledge hit him just below the waist. Standing on the limb, he looked inside the window, grateful none of his men were privy to seeing him.


  The faint light revealed the door on the far side of the chamber was closed. Beside the portal, a mirror hung over a table filled with colorful glass jars and bottles.

  From what he could see, the room was empty. He climbed inside.

  He found Tibi lying on her stomach on a sleeping couch to his left. Her face was turned toward the wall, her long blond braid hanging over the side of the couch and trailing to the floor. Her arms were at her sides beneath a thin white cloth that covered all of her except her head and the top of her bare shoulders.

  The black bruises that crisscrossed her fair skin made him see red. In an instant, he realized there was no way to move her without a litter and the fear and frustration of having to leave her was almost more than he could stand.

  He knelt beside her, his sorrow for the pain she’d suffered driving him to his knees. With a trembling hand, he touched her brow and felt the scorching heat of a fever. “Tibi?” he whispered.

  Except for a soft sigh, she didn’t respond. With the back of his hand, he touched her cheek, feeling the damp of tears she cried even in her sleep.

  Seeing no basin or other container of water to cool a cloth for her brow, he lifted the open bottle on the side table and sniffed the sickly sweet scent of opium. Thanking God someone had been merciful enough to give her medicine for her pain, he moved the cloth on the back of her legs. Just as the slave had said, the bruises covered every part of her skin.

  Plans to murder Tiberius began to form in his brain. How easy it would be to find the old goat’s room, break his neck and toss him down the stairs. No one would ever know he hadn’t fallen by accident, and who was there to care?

  Surely even Tibi didn’t long for her father’s approval after the torture he’d put her through today.

  He felt a presence approaching in the corridor. He stood and moved behind the door. The portal opened. “Gladiator,” Ismene whispered, “are you in here?”

  He pulled Ismene into the room and shut the door. “Look what that evil wretch has done to my beautiful girl.”

  Ismene moved to the couch and lifted the cover enough to see Tibi’s back. She winced. “I expected as much.”