Julia's hands plucked at his shoulders, pulling him upwards, but his fingers continued to stroke and circle until her head thrashed about and pleading noises came from her throat. Then and only then did he permit his shaft to bury itself deep within her. Her body stretched, and welcomed his full length.
Valens raised himself up on his elbows and looked at her passion-darkened eyes. Then she started to move her hips and he allowed his passion full rein.
In the aftermath, Julia lay with one leg over his hip, with Valens still buried deep within her. Each breath she took matched his. His tenderness and consideration filled her with a warm glow. It was hard to believe that the man lying next to her was a hardened gladiator who fought for his life in the arena. He had never pushed her or hurt her. As he had promised, there had been only pleasure.
The coming together had been no less passionate than before. Yesterday had been fast and furious, but today they had taken their time. She felt cherished in his arms.
Her hands touched the sheen of sweat on his brow and his eyes came back into focus. His lips placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.
'You should never doubt your ability to give pleasure.' His mouth curved in a smile and there was a teasing lilt to his voice. 'You are a warm, vibrant woman. Let that be a lesson to you.'
'It may take me a few more lessons before I get the essence of it,' she replied with a grin and reached a lazy hand up to stroke the soft stubble of his cheek. She felt like nothing bad could ever happen to her again. Her whole life had been building up to this and this man. There had to be a way of keeping him here in Rome.
'A demanding woman.' His hand cupped her bottom and pulled her closer. 'Give me time.'
'I am willing to wait…' She pressed her breasts against his chest, arching her back. As her nipples brushed his naked chest, she felt him grow inside her, filling her once again.
'It may be less time than I thought,' he said, nipping her chin and beginning to move against her body.
Late the next morning, Julia inclined her head as Senator Gracchus came into the room, dressed in an immaculate white toga with a large bright purple stripe. He had sent word earlier that morning that he would be calling. The excitement and curiosity of the message took some of the disappointment off the fact that Valens had left before she had woken up. Her deep regret was that she forgot to probe more about his boyhood. There was that one tantalising clue that he served with Senator Gracchus's son. But it could wait. Everything could wait.
Julia's fingers curled around the little figurine of Valens she had placed by her work basket, for luck and for courage, but she also intended on showing it to Senator Gracchus and asking him for ideas of where to take her search.
Bodyguards and servants carrying a statue and his chair flanked the elderly Senator. At a wave of his be-ringed hand, the servant placed the chair in the centre of the room, and draped a deep purple cloth over the top. Gracchus sat down, surveying the room in the same manner she supposed a general surveys the battlefield.
'Senator, it is so good of you to call on our humble household…' Sabina breathed, making a show of placing her spindle down.
'Sabina Claudia, it does my old heart good to see that some Roman matrons remember the old ways and keep their hands busy by spinning rather than their tongues wagging with gossip. No doubt you are making your husband a new toga.'
'Spinning means so much to me,' Sabina cooed, patting her elaborate curls. 'I only wish Julia would derive the same pleasure as I do from it, but these young women, Senator.'
'I have things I would like to say to Julia in private. It was easier if I came here. Thank you for your hospitality.'
'Perhaps later you might have a glass of honey wine with us?'
'If there is time.' The senator's tone implied there wouldn't be. 'If you'll excuse us. I am sure your other duties call.'
Sabina left the room in a rush, muttering about senators who took their status for granted.
'Senator, you do me a great honour,' Julia said, breaking the silence that had descended on Sabina's departure and trying to refrain from flinching under his steady gaze. There could be only one reason for his visit. Somehow, Lucius had twisted the story of what happened here yesterday.
His face stern, he motioned for her to sit. Julia sank gratefully down on her stool as her knees had started to tremble.
She crossed her ankles and resisted the urge to pick up the discarded spindle.
'I understand you suffered an unpleasantness yesterday,' he said gravely after exchanging pleasantries about the weather and Rome's recent success in Asia. 'My son came to see you. I understand his behaviour left a good deal to be desired. It was not the actions I would expect of a Roman, let alone someone who is the heir to the Gracchus name. His behaviour is disappointing.'
One by one the knots in her stomach began to release. Julia drew a long breath, filling her lungs with cleansing air. She could take her revenge on Lucius now and tell the senator everything. But Valens was correct. She needed to live in the present. Senator Gracchus must have known what Lucius was like before now. Her words would not change that.
'Think nothing of it.' Julia waved her hand. 'I assure you. I have forgotten the incident.'
Again the steady gaze from the senator. Julia tried to read his face, but failed. She gripped her hands together to keep from asking—what did he want?
'Nevertheless I have not. Brawling in public with a woman and then a gladiator.' Gracchus's voice condemned Lucius. 'He becomes more ungovernable by the day. I can only offer my sincere and abject apologies. I was horrified when I learnt. He behaved worse than the most mean slave in my household. I expect my son to maintain certain standards of behaviour. If we lower our standards to that level, what will Rome become?'
Julia plucked at the sleeve of her gown. Let Lucius be the cause of his own downfall. 'No harm was done. The so-called brawl stopped before it started, thanks to the swift intervention of the gladiator. Please forget it as I intend to.'
A smile broke over the senator's face, transforming it,making it seem much younger. Julia caught a glimpse of the devastatingly handsome man he must have been in his youth.
'We shall mention the subject no more then. It is a wrapped and sealed scroll.' He folded his hands in his lap and showed little sign of departing.
Julia reached down and gave Bato a stroke. What else did the senator want? He did not come all this way to smooth over Lucius's transgressions.
'Can I offer you a drink?' she asked, breaking the silence. She clapped her hands and a servant appeared. 'Some cool mint tea? Or perhaps sweet wine? Sabina is sure to have ordered the honey to be mixed in.'
'A cup of mint tea would do nicely.'
'Is there some other reason for your visit, Senator?' Julia asked after she had ordered the tea and the senator still sat there. 'I am honoured that you chose to come and visit, but feel your visit may have some other purpose.'
Gracchus beckoned to one of his servants. The man dressed in whortleberry-purple brought the cloth-covered statuette forward and placed it on his knee.
'Apologising was my main purpose, but I did have another one,' he said, with his hands moving over the statuette as if he sought to draw strength from it. 'You asked me a question about my son yesterday. A question I regrettably had no time to answer. You wanted to know what my son looked like.'
'Yes, I did.' Julia edged forward on her seat and wondered if she should tell the Senator the story Valens had told her about the manner of his son's death. She wanted him to know there was someone who was with his son when he died.
'This is my son, Gaius, as a young man.'
The servant pulled the cloth from the statuette. Julia's mouth dropped open. Her hands trembled. Had Valens not told her he had seen Gaius Gracchus die, she would have been convinced this was a younger version of Valens—the nose and mouth were similar. She rubbed her eyes. Who was Valens?
'I don't recall seeing this before.' Julia reached out her right forefinger
to touch the statuette's face.
'It resides in my bedroom, beside one of his mother. He was such a paragon of Roman virtue—honourable, unselfish and public-spirited. He would have gone far if his life had not been cut short by Fate.'
'He doesn't look very much like you.' Julia glanced at the Senator with his hooded eyes and then back at the statuette of his son, spear in one hand, dressed in military garb.
'My son took after my dead wife in many ways,' Gracchus said with a smile. 'May the gods grant their shades a pleasant time in Hades.
Julia toyed with her bracelet. He had given her a slight opening for her tale about his son's death. She felt she had an obligation to tell him that someone had been with Gaius Gracchus when he died, and could tell him precisely about the manner of his death.
'I have met a man,' she said carefully, 'a gladiator who claims he was held in the same pirate's hold as your son. He saw your son die.'
Gracchus's eyes turned grave. He made a motion, dismissing his bodyguard and servants. Julia watched in silence as they departed, her stomach knotting tighter and tighter.
'Dear sweet child,' Gracchus said at last, 'you hardly know what you say. I showed you yesterday Gaius's brooch. Mettalius laid it in my hand. He tore it from Gaius's body. I have his solemn oath on it. Why would he lie to me about the manner of my only son's death? Besides, the ransom note was a forgery. Lucius spotted the errors straight away. Blinded by love for my son and concern for my wife who was suffering her first bout of severe illness, I missed them the first time I read the note, but Lucius noticed how the code had been altered. Rage filled me that someone should play such a shabby trick and that I should be so gullible to believe it'
Julia turned her head towards Bato, staring at the dog's grizzled muzzle, but not really seeing it. She had to find a way of making him believe. She had to do it for Valens. Maybe if he spoke to the senator, it would give him the courage to seek out his own father. 'That may be true, but the gladiator—what reason would he have to lie?'
Gracchus leant over and patted Julia's hand. 'I know not of his purpose, but I never trust an infamis. They are not honourable men and have forfeited their right to be believed. How can I begin to guess what he might have hoped to gain from this tale? But mark my words, he will have wanted something, they always do.'
'I…' Julia stumbled over her words. If only Valens were here, she would drag him to Gracchus and demand him to repeat the story. It would force the issue out into the open. But she had no idea when Valens would return, nor could she ask Gracchus to stay.
A noise made her look up. In the shadow of the doorway, she saw Valens standing there, pale as a ghost, his face a mixture of thunder and pain.
The soothing non-committal words she had been about to say dried on her lips.
She was sure she had made a sound because Gracchus half-turned and followed the line of Julia's eyes. The statuette of his son tumbled from his grasp as he rose in his seat. Julia caught the statuette before it crashed to the floor.
'Gaius?' Gracchus croaked. 'Can it be you?'
Chapter Thirteen
Valens stood in the doorway, unable to move, his eyes taking in every detail of the scene. Julia was crouched on the floor with the white statuette held gently between her hands. The man was seated in a resplendent chair with his arm raised as if he were making a speech in the Senate. His face was older and more lined than the last time they had met, but his toga was still as brilliantly white, the coloured stripe still as broad.
The coils of the past finally had reached out to ensnare him and Valens waited for the final thrust of Fate's trident. He should have left when he first learnt of the Gracchus connection, or before that, when he first felt the tugs of memory.
He heard the whispered Gaius, and felt it pierce his soul. The temptation to walk away was overpowering, but he appeared to have lost all movement in his feet. He wanted to rage and cry. Yesterday had been bad enough, facing his cousin who innocently had taken his place, but here was the man who had allowed it all to happen. This was the man who had refused to pay his ransom and who had condemned him to this life of infamy and his men to their death. That compartment of his life had to remain shut and locked forever.
'I am Valens the Thracian gladiator,' he heard his voice say from a long way away. 'Not Gaius Gracchus.'
He watched the old man intently to gauge his reaction. Would he deny the words and insist on the truth? He had to know the truth. What parent would not instinctively know his only son?
Gracchus's eyes peered at him, burned into his soul. Valens drew on all his gladiatorial training to force his feet to stay still. He returned the gaze without flinching. Then his father's shoulders shrank and his face grew more lined before Gracchus turned his head away.
'Forgive an old man's fancy—in the half-light I thought my son had returned from the dead.' His father's voice sounded tired and over-burdened with age. 'An old man's folly.'
The desire to run and bury his face in Gracchus's toga as he had when he was a small boy and had broken his favourite toy filled Valens. He wanted to be that son again. He wanted to have his whole future in front of him, a future that could include Julia.
He started to form the words, to beg his father's forgiveness. Then the anger returned, surging through him. How dare his father not pay the ransom! How dare he condemn his only son to an infamous death! He had behaved in a way no father should. He had forfeited any right to be comforted. The last remnant of Gaius Gracchus died when he took the gladiator's oath. Valens bit back the words.
'Valens is the gladiator I told you about. See, here is his figurine.' Julia reached forward and touched Gracchus's hand, indicating a small figurine on a shelf next to his father's chair. 'He saw your son die and can tell you about the manner of his death.'
Gracchus made an irritated noise and signalled for a servant to take the statuette from Julia. Valens felt his blood run cold. He knew the statuette, but he needed to know why his father had brought it to Julius Antonius's house.
What was Julia's part in this? Had she guessed? She should have asked him first. She should have asked him if he wanted this. He did want Julia, but not this way. She had to want him for who he was, the man he had become, not the patrician he had been.
'Julia, I have already told you. My son died in Zama in North Africa. I have his brooch. I know how he died. Mettalius told me and Mettalius is an honourable man. Yes, there was a ransom note, but it was a crude attempt at exploiting money, preying on a sick woman's fancy.'
Valens found it impossible to contain his anger.
'Six men perished when your refusal arrived,' he stated bluntly. 'That note was no forgery. He was alive when the pirates captured him, injured but alive.'
Gracchus turned towards him, a look of disdain on his face. Valens knew in that heartbeat of time that his father was determined not to believe the evidence of his own eyes. That it was more convenient for him to believe his only son was dead than to face the truth. All the hope he had had that somehow it had been a mistake, that Gracchus would forgive him for not being Roman enough to put honour before death, was gone. When had his father forgiven any act he considered less than honourable?
'You ask me to believe the word of a gladiator above the word of a senator—two senators? I have the evidence.' His father's voice was ice-cold. 'I held my son's cloak in my hands. I wear his brooch. He would not have given up either without a fight. The note was a forgery. Lucius showed me the errors and how the code had been changed.'
Valens winced as he remembered how Aquilia had pulled the cloak from his shoulders. We have need of this elsewhere, he had said. He had always assumed that it had been sold. That the attack had been random. A twist of Fate's spindle. Had he been mistaken? What could have Mettalius hoped to gain from his death? And the note. Aquilia's smile when he said that it was to make sure that there were no mistakes. How could his father say that it was a forgery, except to provide salve for his own mind?
'You ma
y believe what you like,' Valens said stiffly, refusing to beg. His father had repudiated him once. He would not give him an opportunity to do so a second time.
He looked at his father who clapped his hands, summoning his servants.
'I shall go now, before I insult your hospitality, Julia Antonia.' His father stood up and draped his toga over his arm. the senatorial stripe proudly displayed. 'I will not have my decisions questioned by an infamis"
'Yes, you are always right and hate being proved wrong.' The bitter words poured from Valens's mouth before he could stop them. 'You never change, just as you always were. The pride of the Gracchi before everything. Remember you misplaced your speech on Sulla and you blamed your son for it, beating him to teach him a lesson. Later you discovered the speech in a pile of scrolls you had put away. You were wrong then and you are now.'
His father's dark eyes met Valens. The look in them was terrible, but Valens returned it, never flinching. This was it— the moment of truth. He had never intended it to be this way. He had planned on confronting his father after he had regained his honour through winning the rudius. And it was never to be in anger. But the gods had decreed otherwise.
His father had to know who he was. He had to put the bonds of blood and love before the ties of family honour.
His father took a half-step towards him and Valens felt a great welling up of emotion. All these years, these five long wasted years, had he misjudged his father? His father's hand reached out and toppled the Valens figurine. It rolled across the floor and came to rest at Valens's feet.
'My son would have died before he was captured, I know that in my heart of hearts,' he said with each word ringing out through the room. 'My son would have never become a slave. He would never ever have fallen so low as to become a gladiator. He would have preferred death. He would never have disgraced the family's honour. He would never have risen to the heights of that profession.'
The Gladiator's Honor Page 18