I shook my head. My eyes were on the victor standing below. Smiling broadly, Holtan removed his helmet and bowed slightly to the emperor, then to the cheering throng. Did I imagine it, or was he looking at me?
AT THE PARTY THAT EVENING, PILATE SEEMINGLY IGNORED THE WOMEN, instead closeting himself with Sejanus in a curtained alcove. I saw only Holtan. He stood between two imperial officers laughing at some private joke.
Apicata’s eyes followed mine, “Extraordinary, wouldn’t you say?”
“What do you suppose they are talking about?” I wondered.
“Women probably. Holtan’s reputed to be successful in that arena as well. I would not call him handsome, but—”
“I would.”
“Claudia! For handsome, look to Pilate. Your gladiator may have been attractive when he was young, when you made your famous prediction. He was scarcely out of his teens then, but now—Look at his nose! It’s badly broken. And that scar. Imagine his body.”
I liked imagining his body. “Scarred, of course, but think how he has lived, what he has experienced. I find the thought of it…exciting.”
“Really!” Apicata looked at me curiously. “If you like that sort of thing. I shouldn’t think you would.”
Holtan strode across the wide marble hall, brushing aside several admirers who sought to detain him. Now he stood before us, his eyes on mine, smiling a silent greeting. Turning to Apicata, he bowed. “Your parties are the best in the world.”
“That is a compliment,” she conceded, “since I gather you have seen most of the world.”
“I’ve not seen anyone like your companion—at least not in a long time.”
Apicata laughed softly as she turned away. “I would watch out for Claudia. She is said to be part witch.”
“Then tell my fortune, witch.” He reached out his hand, palm up. “The wise women of Dacia, my country, tell fortunes by looking at the palm. Can you do that?” His manner was light but the eyes that watched me from beneath thick, shaggy brows were intense.
“My powers are much exaggerated,” I said, tilting my head to meet his gaze. “But occasionally…a dream comes true.”
“I would like that. I would like you to dream of me.”
Your life is waiting. “Only Isis knows, perhaps I shall—some time.”
I took his large, rough hand in mine, but felt only his warmth. My fingers trembled; I knew he could feel them. Beyond him, I saw Pilate emerge from his curtained alcove. His eyes swept the room, fastened on me. I dropped Holtan’s hand. “What a pity! I can tell you nothing, nothing that all of Rome does not already know.”
“But what of the future?” he persisted. “Do you see a woman there? Someone with dark hair that shines like polished mahogany when it catches the light. Someone with smoke-gray eyes like the sapphires from India? Do you see such a person?”
“Yes.” I tilted my head once again. “I do see such a woman, but you should beware of her.”
CHAPTER 25
Holtan
In the days following Sejanus’s banquet, Holtan showed up everywhere—at the theater, the races, at parties and receptions. I felt his eyes on me, bold, appraising, in no way polite. I read his gaze as purely sensual, possibly threatening, uncomplicated by romance or even respect. That wasn’t what I wanted. Or was it?
Like Pilate, he possessed an absolute certainty of his place in the world, but with a shady edge, the attitude of a man capable of surviving by any means. I watched him at a banquet, eyes languidly fixed on the senator who hung over his couch speaking so intently, and was reminded of a resting lion that might at any moment awaken with a compelling appetite.
Then three days passed and I didn’t see him at all. On an impulse, I ordered my litter bearers to take me to Mars Field.
“Why?” Rachel asked. “You’ve never gone there before.”
“Must I have a reason? Apicata says it’s amusing to watch the new slaves learn swordsmanship.”
“I have heard their instructors are among the best gladiators in the country,” Rachel said, placing a dark gray palla about my shoulders.
I shrugged off the palla. “Not that old thing! I want the new one.” I gestured toward a length of loosely woven wool, vibrant lilac, kitten soft against my bare shoulders.
When my litter reached the great field, I waved Rachel off and walked toward the stable. As a girl I’d often outridden Caligula, who fancied himself quite a horseman. I’d even held my own with Gaius. In Antioch, I’d ridden often, but one thing or another had kept me from doing so in Rome. Now I felt a surge of excitement, remembering with keen longing the glorious sense of a galloping horse, the feeling of being on top of the world. Perhaps a long ride on a spirited mount was just what I needed to banish the restlessness that plagued me.
In the large courtyard, slaves perfected their thrusts and parries under the watchful eyes of guards and trainers. They were a mixed lot, shiny black Nubians, some northerners with ice blue eyes and skin fair as snow, a few from the Far East, sleek raven hair tied in one thick braid that whirled behind them as they lunged. Not all were agile. One boy alone showed real promise. I paused to join a small crowd that circled the youth.
“Shall I buy him for you?”
Startled, I turned to find Holtan standing nearby, his amber eyes alert and watching.
I laughed lightly. “You’re joking. What would I do with a gladiator?” As he continued to study me, I felt my face flush. “He reminds me of someone, a boy I saw long ago,” I remarked. “He, too, was very skillful with a sword.”
“And very lucky.”
“You are modest. This boy—is he also from Dacia?”
Holtan nodded. “A village near my home. He was brought in last week. You might find him a fine investment. I could have him trained at my school, then enter him in the arena for you.”
“You are generous, but I could not. My husband would never allow me to accept such a valuable gift.”
“He need never know. It could be our secret,” he said, moving closer.
I backed away. “You think I would deceive my husband?”
His eyes were teasing, yet appraising. “I know you never have.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“I know you never have,” Holtan repeated.
“How can you know that?”
“I made it my business to find out.”
Why was I not angry? Instead, I felt secret pleasure at his interest. “Your spies are very thorough,” I said at last.
Moving on ahead of him, I entered the large stone building and looked about. The stable master, a stocky, red-faced man, approached us. “What does Domina prefer? We have a fair selection of ladies’ mounts.” He pointed to a chestnut mare. “She is gentle as a lamb.”
“Perhaps, if I wanted to ride a lamb.”
“She’s a fine mount,” Holtan said. “I know her owner.”
“Do you keep horses here?” I asked him.
“A few.”
“Dominus’s horses are the best,” the stable master interjected, “but also the most spirited.”
“I would like to see them.”
Holtan nodded to the stable man who led the way to a wing lined with stalls. “You own all these?” I asked Holtan, who remained at my side.
“These are the ones I keep in Rome.”
I looked from horse to horse. “I would like to ride that one.” I pointed to a large stallion, his sleek ebony coat broken only by a white star on his forehead. He reminded me of a horse that I had owned as a girl and trained myself.
The stable master shook his head emphatically. “Oh no, Domina doesn’t want that one.”
“Domina does indeed,” I insisted.
“That roan mare to the right of the entrance—ride her.” Holtan said, taking my arm.
“Are you refusing to allow me to ride the horse of my choice?”
“The stallion’s too dangerous. Saddle the roan and the stallion,” he instructed the groom. Taking my arm, Holtan led me
back out to the yard.
Soon we were joined by the stable man and a groom leading the two horses. Holtan stroked the mare’s head. “She is a fine horse, plenty of spirit, you will enjoy riding her.”
“Why don’t you ride her?” I suggested.
“I would like to, but Poseidon needs exercise. The stable boys are afraid to work her.”
I looked up at the stallion standing quietly beside me. “He’s beautiful.”
Holtan frowned. “He would not allow it. I am the only one who has ever ridden him.”
I stroked Poseidon’s muzzle. He watched me closely, but remained motionless. “Cup your hand,” I instructed the groom.
Hardly more than a boy, the groom looked uncertain. As he hesitated, I kicked the mounting block into position. Pulling up my skirt, I grabbed Poseidon’s saddle and jumped astride the horse. Taking the reins in both hands, I felt the enormous power of the beast. As I gave Poseidon a nudge. I saw the stable boy staring at my bare legs.
“Stop!” Holtan cried. “I cannot allow this.”
“He seems gentle enough to me.”
I had barely spoken when Poseidon broke into a trot, moving with smooth, quickening grace out of the enclosure. Holtan lunged forward to grab the reins, but the horse reared. The groom too leaped back. Riders in the exercise field scattered in all directions.
Oh, sweet Isis! What have I done now! I gripped him with my thighs as Tata had taught me long ago and lightened up on the reins. Poseidon set off at a full gallop, quickly crossing the old parade ground and heading toward open country. As he cleared one hedge after another, I could do nothing but stay low and hang on with all my strength. Thrilling to the ride, I shrieked with excitement. At last, as we reached a road paralleling the Tiber, Poseidon lengthened his stride and we were flying.
I had forgotten the freedom and exhilaration of having a great horse beneath me. Now I leaned forward on Poseidon’s neck, entwining my fingers in his mane. Head back, I felt the wind in my loosened hair. Gradually I became aware of the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Holtan gaining on me. I pulled the folds of my palla down over my thighs.
“You might have told me how well you ride,” he shouted as he drew nearer.
“You might have asked,” I called back.
“Have you any other surprises?”
I smiled, feeling less fettered than I had in years. “Perhaps.”
“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?”
Yanked from my reverie, I jumped as a hand pushed back the litter’s curtain. Pilate’s face was inches from my own, those cool blue eyes of his watchful, missing nothing.
“You care?” I asked coolly, but my heart raced as he took my arm.
“You were gone all afternoon,” he said, helping me from the litter.
“Really?” I forced a shrug. “If you must know, I went riding.”
“We used to ride together,” he reminded me. He turned to Rachel, who walked behind us as we entered the house. “Did you enjoy the ride?”
I answered for her. “Rachel does not ride.”
“Next time my groom will attend you. I do not want you riding alone.”
“Nonsense! I grew up on a horse.” I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Why were you waiting for me?”
“I have news, pleasant news. I’ve bought a villa in Herculaneum.”
“Herculaneum! You never mentioned you were thinking—” I stopped, remembering.
“It was you who suggested it,” he reminded me, “a place by the sea. You preferred it to Pompeii, said it was smaller, more leisurely. I expected you to be pleased.”
I scrambled to regain my composure. “Oh, I am…of course. It will be very pleasant…later…Fall in Herculaneum would be lovely, or the winter months. Yes, let’s go in winter. Perhaps Apicata and Sejanus will join us.”
“What’s the matter, Claudia?” Pilate turned to face me as we entered the atrium. “You were so anxious to be out of Rome. I agree with you, the place is a pesthole—barely spring and children are dying of fever. It’s foolhardy to risk Marcella’s health.”
“Marcella,” I echoed softly, my heart loosening. What had I been thinking? Was I mad? “Yes, a summer by the sea will do us all good.”
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Pilate said. “This time next week, we will be on the road.” With barely a nod he turned toward his tablinum.
As the heavy door closed behind him, I turned to Rachel, half sobbing. “How can I leave now?”
“It is the best thing that could happen,” she nodded solemnly.
“How dare you say that!”
“Your husband does not miss a thing. He’s suspicious. If I can feel it, you surely must.”
“I haven’t done anything,” I argued defensively.
“You dare not. You know the danger. Within the law he could kill you. He would not even need proof.”
“I will only see Holtan once, just once—alone. Pilate will never know.”
I FOUND THE COLUMNED ENTRANCE TO HOLTAN’S DINING HOUSE impressive—what little I saw of it. Scarcely had I alighted from the hired litter before a slave darted from the doorway and hurried me through a side door. He bowed as though I were the empress herself. “My lady, Dominus is waiting for you upstairs.”
“Waiting for me! How can that be?”
The slave shrugged. “The master said, ‘When the lady comes, bring her to me.’”
“Really!” I had half a mind to leave, but instead found myself following him through the foyer to a stairway. It was small, rather dark, the stairs narrow and steep. I climbed a few steps and then stopped. Why was I risking my very life for a man who already took me for granted? I stood motionless, hand on the railing. Get out now. Quickly I turned and started down the steps.
“Claudia!”
I looked back over my shoulder. Holtan stood on the landing at the top of the stairs. In an instant he was at my side. “You did come!” he said, taking my hands in his. The warmth of his touch flowed through my body.
“It appears you expected me.”
“Not expected—dreamed that you would search me out.” Taking my arm, he led me up the stairs to a surprisingly spacious apartment. When I paused to look around, Holtan took my palla and handed it to the slave. “Bring wine, olives, some cheese,” he instructed.
Directly before us was an atrium open to the sky, to the right his tablinum. I saw a desk cluttered with scrolls, behind it a balcony commanding an expansive view of the Subura rooftops to the hills beyond. “Do you conduct business here?”
“Some of it.”
“This is all quite impressive.”
I felt him stiffen. “You probably thought I couldn’t even read.”
“Well, yes. You came here as a young slave…”
He drew himself up proudly. “Claudia, I wasn’t born a slave. My father was a prince. I had the best tutors money could buy. They taught me Greek and Latin, as well as swordsmanship. Life was good until the Romans came.”
“I’m sorry, I only meant…”
“Let me show you the rest of my quarters,” he said, nodding toward a hallway. We turned a corner and suddenly there I was—wide eyes, wild curls. I barely concealed a gasp when I realized what I was seeing. The entire room, floor to ceiling, was lined with metal polished to such brightness that it reflected our every movement. Window hangings of gold embroidered on scarlet matched the smallest stool and largest couch. Thick scarlet carpets scattered about the black marble floor muted our footsteps. A deity I did not recognize smiled down at us from the ceiling, his companions naked, full-breasted, round-hipped women in sensuous poses. I felt the room’s savage, uncompromising challenge, its crude, boisterous beauty.
Perched tentatively on the edge of the couch, I imagined the women who must have lain there. I took a sip of wine, then another, and wondered if I could ever be like those careless, confident creatures.
“Years ago, I heard the story of your prediction,” Holtan said, pulling me down next t
o him on the couch.
“The one about you?” I smiled, cocking my head slightly. “It surprised me more than anyone.” We reclined for a time, looking up at the gods cavorting above our heads.
“Do you know what people are thinking?” Holtan asked. “Can you read minds?”
“I can read yours—now. It does not take the sight for that.”
He leaned forward eagerly. “Did the sight tell you to come here?”
How young Holtan looked when he smiled. There were still traces of the boy I remembered. “I did not think it wise to ask.”
Holtan’s eyes were intent. “It’s true then, your sight does tell you things?”
I shook my head. “I wish I could explain it. No sight guides me, but sometimes there’s a kind of knowing when I feel in harmony with Isis—”
“She speaks to you?” Holtan encouraged.
“Not in words. But if I’m able to still my chattering mind, I feel her. I sense sometimes—don’t laugh—I tried to explain it to Pilate once, and he laughed.”
“I would never laugh at you.” Holtan moved closer. “So, how do you feel?”
“Like Ariadne. It is as if I were Ariadne.”
“Who?” He frowned slightly.
“A Greek princess who loved a hero.” I looked up at him. “Not unlike you.”
“What happened to them? Did they live happily ever after—the princess and her hero?”
“She saved him—saved them both—by teaching him to hold fast to a silver thread that guided him out of a black labyrinth. Sometimes I feel that I’m guided by such a thread—but so often I forget to reach for it…” I laughed, shaking my head again. “How silly this is!”
“Not at all. I don’t know about the thread. I never felt that, but in the arena, I…am…Mars.”
“I noticed the shrine in the atrium as I came in.”
“In Dacia we had different gods. As a child I prayed to Wodan and Freya. Much good that did when the Roman legions killed my father, took me for a slave. Later, when I was brought here, I saw gladiators worshipping Mars. Is not one god as good as another?”
“Do you pray to Mars before entering the arena?”
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