Later, that same afternoon, Tibi was lying on her side leaning on a pillow when Alexius walked in to see her. Freshly shaven, he wore a gray tunic that almost matched his silver eyes. The damp curls of his glossy hair suggested that he’d come directly from a bath.
“You are the handsomest man on this earth.”
He kissed her softly and sat in the chair beside her couch. “I think that depends on who’s looking at me.”
“You’re right,” she said a little breathless from his kiss. “I imagine everyone else thinks you’re ugly.”
He chuckled. “Probably.”
“Where have you been?” she asked, breathing in his spicy scent.
“On the field, then the bath.”
“How are my men?”
“They miss you.”
“Really?” Happiness surged through her. She found she liked being appreciated and respected. Her pride in the students’ improvement created an affectionate bond she’d rarely experienced. She considered them her friends. “I miss them, too. Tell them so, will you?”
He promised. Velus delivered a tray overflowing with dishes for their midday meal. They ate the poached partridge eggs and smoked ham before Alexius pulled out the board for a game of latrunculi. He placed the grid-patterned board on the sleeping couch. Tibi reclined on her side next to the game. Alexius sat in the chair across the board from her. “I will win this time.” He placed his blue stones on his side of the grid and looked at her with fierce determination.
“There’s always a first time for everything.” She laughed as she set up her red stones in front of her.
Tibi tossed her die and moved a piece the allotted three spaces. “Adiona and I spoke of something important today.”
His die clacked on the wood board. He moved his first piece four spots. “What was it?”
“Did you know that her father didn’t love her, either?”
“I’ve heard bits and pieces. It’s not a pretty story. She doesn’t seem to mind her past anymore.”
Tibi cast her die and moved another game piece. “How would you feel if I became a Christian?”
He stilled, his blue game piece forgotten. His smile cast every shadow from her heart. “I told you I’d win today.”
“How so?” she asked, looking at the board and her perfectly set strategy.
“I accepted the Lord as my own the day He brought you back to me.”
“What?” The news filled her with more joy than she expected. “Why did you keep such news a secret?”
“I wanted to tell you. You were in such devastating pain. I decided to wait for a better time.”
She moved the board, scattering the stones. Surprised by her sudden action, he looked at the red-and-blue pile on the covers, and grinned up her. “What? Was I winning?”
“No,” she said, adjusting her pillow. “Forget the game. Tell me everything.”
Alexius scooped up a handful of the latrunculi stones and slowly filtered them through his fingers. He’d put the dark days of her absence as far out of his mind as possible. “I was frantic when you were missing. I kept reliving Kyra’s assault and I knew that if I lost you, I might as well die, too.”
“Alexius, no!”
“You know how they are,” he continued, referencing their friends. “They were praying all the time and…and I couldn’t help wanting to join them. I told the Lord if He brought you back to me, I’d believe He forgave me. I promised to serve Him the rest of my days if He did.”
A breeze blew in the open window, bringing a hint of the honeysuckle blooms on the climbing vines. Concerned that Tibi would catch a draft, he stood and readjusted her covers.
“Pelonia came back a short time later from visiting your sister. They’d been to see your father and he’d barred them from the house. We suspected that he had you. I went later that night and found we were correct.”
She frowned, confused. “At night? You brought me home during the day, or so I thought.”
“One of your father’s servants led me to your window. I found you in your room.”
“Wait.” Her brow pleated. “My window is on the second floor. What did you do?” She laughed. “Climb the tree outside?”
He scooped the stones again and let silence be his answer.
“You climbed to my window?” A soft, feminine look filled her brown eyes. “How romantic.”
“It was an act of desperation. I could have broken my neck.”
“I wish I’d known you were there.”
“You were crying in your sleep,” he said with remembered pain. “That hurt worse than any wound I ever received.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” He stood by the window looking out at the herb garden. He saw Caros holding his two-year-old son, Pelonius, on one arm. The small boy was a black-haired, blue-eyed miniature of his father, minus the scars.
Pelonius picked a leaf off the lemon tree. Caros brushed it across the child’s nose, making the boy throw back his head and giggle with innocent abandon.
He couldn’t wait until he and Tibi had their own child. She would be the kindest of mothers and he would do his best to be just like his own loving father.
He felt her presence beside him. “What are you doing up?”
“I’m trying to get my strength back.” She glanced out the window. “Look at Caros and the baby. How sweet.”
Alexius positioned himself behind Tibi, not touching her to cause pain, but ready to catch her if she needed him. He nuzzled her ear, breathing deeply of her natural perfume. “The world is upside down when Caros Viriathos is described as sweet.”
She looked back up at him, smiling. “Someday we’ll have a child of our own.”
“Yes, God willing.”
“Why wouldn’t He be?”
“Who knows? Maybe I’ll be an ogre of a father.”
“More like a jokester in your family’s finest tradition.”
Against her protests, he led her back to the couch and helped her lie down on her side. He tucked pillows all around her.
He decided that there was no point in telling her about the agreement he’d made with Antonius to fight in the senator’s name at the Coliseum. He’d already decided the event would be his last as a gladiator. He wanted to start afresh with Tibi and put Rome and the empty years of his life far behind him.
Tibi tugged on his hand. “Where are you?”
“Lost in my thoughts.” He sat down in his chair beside her. “I’d like to leave Rome. What do you think?”
She chewed her bottom lip in contemplation. “I’ve lived here all my life. Where would we go? Umbria?”
“If you recall, I have a farm there. Our friends live nearby. There are plenty of fields, vineyards, orchards…. You can choose wherever you wish to put up an archery target.”
“Well, then, I’m game to go tomorrow.” She lowered her lashes and studied her palm. “I don’t know if I should ask, but what of your anger? I don’t believe you’re like my father, but how will you control your wrath if you have nowhere to set it free?”
He sat forward on the chair and clasped her hand. The lines in his face deeper with stress. “Listen to me, agape mou. I’m glad you recognize that I’m not like your father. He hurts others because he’s cruel. I’ve never done that and I never will. Even so, things have changed in me since the night I prayed. The anger is there, but I feel it dying. Whether it’s the Lord healing me, as I’ve asked, or because you bring me so much happiness that I have no room for anything else, I’m no longer the man I was.
“That night you were caned, when I sat on the floor by your bed, I planned to murder Tiberius—death is what he deserved for hurting you. There was a time when the anger would have overtaken me. I won out because I didn’t want to hurt you, and he is your father. Plus, I have this new faith in me now that I don’t want to dishonor.”
She moved the pillow to prop her head. “I’m truly grateful that you didn’t kill my father, but a part of
me thanks you for wanting to.”
“Would you have hated me if I had?”
“No, I don’t think it’s possible for me to hate you, no matter what you do. I’m glad you didn’t harm him for your sake, not his.”
“What of your desire to win his approval?”
“I’ve changed, too.” She told him the information her father had given her. “I may not even be his and I’m tired of trying to earn his love. I realized that he’s not capable of caring for anyone. That is his flaw—not mine.”
“Agreed. The old goat’s a fool for not treasuring you.”
“You helped me to see that I have value. You make me feel more precious than gold.”
“Gold is jealous of you, agape mou.”
She smiled and caressed his knuckles with her thumb. “As for Umbria, I loved the countryside when I visited my cousins there. It will be good to be near them. I think it will be a wonderful place for us to build a family safe in our new faith and filled with love. But, truth to tell, even if it were a barren wasteland, I’d be happy as long as you were there.”
Alexius refused to shed tears in front of her, but he had to choke back the emotion in his throat. “I know other men may think so, but they are wrong. I am the luckiest of men because you’re mine.”
She smiled. “I’ll remind you of that the next time you’re mad at me.”
He chuckled and kissed her palm. “You mentioned our new faith. Have you decided, then, to become a Christian?”
She nodded shyly.
He moved to stand. “Shall I call one of the women to pray with you?”
She shook her head. “If it’s all right, I’d rather you were here instead.”
He sank back down in his chair. He cleared his throat, realizing that, as her man, he wanted to protect not only her heart and body but her soul as well. “I prayed in Greek when I went to the Lord for myself.”
“I can pray in Greek.”
“Not with your atrocious accent. He won’t understand you.”
“Then I’ll pray in Latin. Everyone knows it’s a better language anyway.”
His eyebrow arched and he frowned at her as though she’d committed treason. “Since you’re going to the Lord for forgiveness, I think you should start with that remark.”
Giggling, she settled deeper into her pillows. She closed her eyes and grew more serious. She opened one eye. “I’m going to begin how I’ve always heard Pelonia.” She closed her eye again. “Dear Heavenly Father, my cousin Pelonia assures me that You already know me, but I’m here before You because I want to know You. I’m sorry I put others before You in my life, but from now on I mean for that to change. My friend Adiona told me You want my trust. I give it freely and I ask You to forgive me for anything else I’ve done that doesn’t please You. And I thank You for Alexius, whom I love with all my heart. In Jesus’s name. Amen.”
Chapter Nineteen
Tibi sat in the central garden of the ludus. Surrounded by fragrant blooms of white, pink, purple and yellow, she rested on her side on one of the blue, padded couches. Her face turned to the warmth of the sun and the cloudless sky, she was thinking of her little black panther. As soon as he came home, she planned to ask Alexius to find out about the cat’s welfare.
In the five days since she’d become a Christian, she’d healed rapidly, according to the physician. Her bruises no longer an ugly purple, they’d mellowed to an uglier swirl of deep yellow. She was slow going up and down the stairs, but she was pleased to be walking. Sitting remained out of the question. Otherwise, she would have gone to the Forum with their friends, if for no other reason than to enjoy leaving the house for a few hours.
A pair of birds chased each other through the garden, flying dangerously close to the peristyle’s columns.
“My lady,” Velus said over the splash of the fountain. He came down the steps, a tray held in his chubby hands. “The day grows warm. I thought you might need some water.”
She thanked the steward as he placed the tray on the table beside her. Ice clinked in a glass pitcher. “Ice? What is the special occasion?”
“You’re feeling better.”
“How sweet, Velus, thank you.”
The older man colored and added gruffly. “Enjoy it. It’s from the last reasonably priced barrel until next winter.”
Watching him amble back inside the house, she drank deeply, enjoying the cold crispness of the water on her tongue. According to the brass sundial a few flowerbeds away, a half hour passed before Velus returned. “My lady, you have a guest.”
“Who is it?”
“Your sister.”
“Send her in,” she said, intrigued by the unexpected visit. Had she done something that Tiberia felt the need to chastise her?
“Tibi?” Tiberia called from the foot of the garden. “The dwarf said you’re out here somewhere. It’s important I speak with you.”
“I’m here,” she called, waving to draw Tiberia’s notice instead of going to the painful trouble of standing. “Near the largest fountain.”
Tiberia’s long shadow reached Tibi first, but eventually her sister stood before her. “What are you doing out here?”
“Taking in some sun. I’ve been upstairs for the last nine days.”
“May I sit?”
“Of course. You’re my sister. You needn’t be so formal or even have to ask.”
Tiberia sank into a nearby chair, her light yellow stola flaring across the gravel path. Tiberia fidgeted with the links of her gold belt. Usually, her self-possessed sister was a pillar of haughty calm. “My husband says you plan to wed your gladiator.”
“Yes, as soon as I can walk in the procession. I hope you’ll come,” she said.
“Do you love him or…or is this some sort of silly rebellion against Father?”
Resenting the inability to move without pain, Tibi glared at her sister. “I love Alexius with all my heart. If you have any affection for me, you’ll be kind to him as well. As for Father, he and I are no longer speaking. He almost crippled me.”
Tiberia closed her eyes and hung her head. “I know. I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you more often. I came the first day, but you were unconscious. Antonius and I have both felt terribly guilty. I didn’t visit…because I didn’t know what to say.”
“Be at ease, Tiberia. You’re not responsible for having me caned.”
“We should have been more protective of you. We should have brought you to live with us… Something. Anything. Father’s always been hurtful but never like this. You’re my little sister. I do love you, even though I haven’t always shown it well enough.”
“I know. I love you, too. I’m sorry you’ve been caught between Father and me so often.”
Tiberia took a deep breath. “That is why I’m here. Father swore me to secrecy this morning, but I can’t stay silent and live with myself.”
“What is it?” Tibi tried to maneuver into a semblance of a sitting position. Her sister’s anxious expression worried her.
Tiberia wrung her hands. She stood, her pacing crunched across the gravel. “Father…he’s planned for your glad… For Alexius to die today.”
“What? What do you mean?” Ignoring the pain screaming in her back, she struggled to her feet. “Is this a sick joke, Tiberia?”
“No! I swear. If someone schemed against Antonius, you’d tell me.”
“Yes. Now tell me what’s intended for Alexius!”
“I went to Father’s domus this morning and overheard him giving instructions to his steward. It seems there’s to be a large contest at the Coliseum today. Did you know of it?”
“No,” she replied, determined to stop her father’s plans no matter what needed to be done.
“It seems that your gladiator promised to fight in support of my husband’s bid for the consul nomination if Antonius secured Father’s consent for you and Alexius to marry.”
Tears burned the back of Tibi’s eyes. Why hadn’t she forced Alexius to tell her how he’d secu
red her father’s permission or suspected something sinister when he’d agreed to her marriage with a gladiator?
“Father is against your marriage for several reasons, besides the obvious one that your groom is a former slave. He never would have signed that contract except that Antonius threatened to disavow him publicly if he refused.”
Tibi gasped. Her father prized her brother-in-law’s name, connections, his very existence. To have Antonius threaten to cut him off so completely must have shattered him.
“Naturally, he felt coerced,” Tiberia continued, absently trailing her palm across the top of a fern. “You know that never sits well with him.”
“Am I supposed to feel pity?” Tibi asked. “If so, I can’t find any in me after the anguish he’s caused. You still haven’t told me how he plans to harm my man.”
“When your Greek fights today, he’ll face three men at once. Nothing too unusual for a champion of his skill, but Father has arranged for poison to be placed on the blades of his opponents. If Alexius gets even one small scratch, he’ll be weakened enough for the others to slay him.”
Shaking with rage and fear, Tibi hobbled from the garden as rapidly as possible. She yelled Velus’s name at the top of her lungs. The steward came running. She quickly told him what Tiberia shared. “Fetch Silo. I’m too slow to go out to the field myself.”
Velus returned, his breathing heavy from his run to the barracks. “No good, my lady. Except for the newest recruits, the archers have all gone to the Coliseum. If today’s show is typical, they’ll participate in group battles. It’s a given that most of the game’s archers will be killed or wounded by each other.”
The faces of Gaidrēs and Ovid filled her mind’s eye. She refused to think about losing any of her friends. “Will Alexius be in this battle?”
“No, he’ll fight later. He’s always the main event.”
“We have to get word to him. Velus, you have to hurry. Fetch one or several of the trainers and bring them to me.”
Weak and trembling from the effort already spent by her sore legs and back, Tibi leaned against a column along the garden’s central path. Afraid to sit down in case she couldn’t get back up again, she concentrated on a plan to keep her mind off the pain cramping he strained muscles. Tiberia sat quietly by the fountain, her face downcast.
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