by Carol Ashby
Otto’s jaw clenched as he bit back the words he wanted to spit at the arrogant Roman who thought he owned him.
Brutus’s mouth curved into a crooked smile. “I’ve been watching you, and you present an… opportunity. And I’m not one to waste an unusual opportunity.”
Otto’s brow furrowed.
Brutus rubbed his palms together. “You killed too quickly in Octodurus, but your skill at sparring without going for the kill is unusual, to say the least. I can use that to both our advantages. A new gladiator trains for the first year so he can fight well enough to please the crowd in his first bout. I get paid if you die, although I prefer to earn money from the organizers of the games with wins instead of deaths.”
He shrugged. “But there are ways to make money long before your first real fight in the arena, if you’re smart enough to do what you’re told and don’t cause any trouble.”
Otto’s head popped back. “I’ve had my first real fight.”
Brutus shook his head. “That was only a three-on-three with arena fodder. The real fights are one-on-ones between professionals. If you fought today, you’d die. Your skill with the gladius is impressive, but Ursus tells me you know nothing about using a shield as a weapon or how to fight a man who knows how to keep you too far away to kill with a gladius.”
Otto rubbed his lips. “He’s right.”
“If I leave you here in Florentia, Ursus will train you until you use a shield well enough to have a chance of surviving a bout with a seasoned gladiator. Then he’ll book you into the games, just like all the other gladiators trying not to die in one-on-one combat.”
Otto drew a deep breath and held it before releasing it slowly.
Brutus crossed his arms. “But I have a better use for you if I take you to the ludus in Roma.”
Otto’s eyebrow rose. “And that would be…?”
“Roma is gladiator-mad. All the young men of the senatorial and equestrian orders want to fight like one. And that means many want to spar with one. Some want to impress their friends. Others, it’s their fathers who want them trained before they join the legion and might need the skill to stay alive."
Brutus shrugged. “Why doesn’t matter to me. But with a man like you, who can spar legion-style without hurting them, who speaks good enough Latin to give instructions as their personal trainer, I can charge high rates for the privilege of joining you in the practice arena at the ludus.”
Otto’s mouth turned down. “But it wouldn’t be my money. Why should I want to risk dying if some young Roman nobleman happens to get a lucky thrust in? You’d kill me if I hurt him to stop it.”
Brutus’s eyes turned icy. “Death is certain if you don’t cooperate.” They thawed, and he shrugged again. “If you do, and the customers are satisfied enough to bring their friends to us, you might get a small share of the earnings.”
This Roman reeked of the arrogance Otto hated when selling horses, but he was in no position to bargain. “Sounds reasonable. What you propose interests me.”
Brutus’s eyes warmed. “I thought you might be smart enough to appreciate this opportunity.”
Otto allowed his face to mirror Brutus’s. “My father raised no fools.”
The corner of Brutus’s mouth lifted. “Another advantage of being in the ludus in Roma is the visits from the noblewomen who like to watch gladiators train. Nothing pleases them more than a big, handsome German like you. Your Latin will make it more pleasant for those who want personal time with you as well. We charge fees for the entertainment.
“And there are some women who like to spar like the men do.” Brutus’s mouth pulled sideways. “I don’t understand why any woman would want to fight like a man, but some do.”
Otto choked down a laugh. It took no imagination to see why a Roman woman might want to kill a Roman man, with a sword or otherwise. “German women are fighters, just like their men. I see nothing wrong with Roman women wanting the skill.” A grin tried to escape. “Maybe some have husbands they’d rather keep away at sword point. Maybe some would like to use a sword to stop any future visits. But I have heard that poison is more in fashion among Roman women when it comes to getting rid of a man.”
Brutus chuckled. “I think the women will like your sense of humor, too.” He slapped his knees and stood. “So, we’ll ride on to Roma tomorrow.”
Otto tried to keep his face straight. Each time on the road presented a fresh opportunity for escape. “It will feel good to ride without shackles again.”
Brutus snorted. “I’m not stupid enough to let a slave who tried so hard to escape in Octodurus and who claims to be free ride without shackles and a lead rope on his horse. But in time, if you prove you’re trustworthy, you can earn the privilege of a few freedoms in Roma.”
Otto shrugged. “I think going to Rome is a good plan, and I’ll gladly be the sparring partner of any Roman willing to pay you for it. I won’t waste this opportunity.”
“Good.” Brutus flicked his hand. “Go back to your practice. We leave for Roma first thing in the morning.”
As Otto stepped from bench to bench on his way back to the sand, his lips tightened. He was only a slave in Brutus’s eyes, but he would never be one in his own. And even this Roman would see him as a free man again, if only Galen would come.
Chapter 23: It’s My Pleasure
South of Cisa Pass, Day 22
Adela stretched as she gazed across the open meadow surrounded by forest that flanked the road. She gave Galen her brightest smile as he rode beside her.
“The Alpes take my breath, but I like these mountains better. It’s no colder than at home and prettier with the trees.”
Galen craned his neck to look ahead. “I keep expecting a break in the trees so we can see something.”
Her brow furrowed. “See something?”
“Yes.” He pointed down the road to where blue sky touched the ground. “And I think it might be right up there.”
Galen kicked Astrelo into a trot, and Adela followed. As they topped the small rise, she gasped.
“What is that?” A blue expanse stretched out before them. “It takes up half the earth and stretches as far as I can see.”
Galen beamed. “That, my dear Adela, is the sea.”
Her hand shot up to cover her mouth. “I thought Lacus Brigantinus was big, but this is…huge, and it’s so blue.”
“It is, and Luna is on its shore. We’ll be there sometime tomorrow.”
Adela pulled her gaze from the blue water and focused on Galen. “How did you know this was here? How do you know so much about so many things?”
“One of the scrolls I have at home describes the western coast of Italia. I knew we must be getting close enough to see it. That’s one good thing about being able to read. It can seem like you’ve been places you’ve never gone.”
The corner of his mouth pulled up, like it always did when he was about to make a joke. “And when we get there, a surprise awaits you.”
“What?”
He chuckled. “You always ask, but I can’t tell you. Then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
They sat for a long moment, gazing at the expanse of blue.
Galen turned contented eyes on her. “Seen enough for now?”
She nodded. He nudged his horse, and they started down the slope. She kept her eyes on the blue water until they entered the woods again.
Adela glanced at Galen’s profile as he rode close beside her. The trace of a smile that she’d come to love curved his lips. It was almost impossible not to smile herself.
So many things with him were surprises, and almost every one delighted her.
If she could freeze time, she would. Nothing could be better than riding cross country with him, seeing things she never dreamed existed, learning so much, laughing at his antics and jokes.
Nothing could be better, except lying with him every night as his wife.
Luna, Day 23
As
Galen and Adela rode into Luna, they passed a Roman temple. Adela turned in her saddle to keep her eyes on it as they rode past.
“We’ve seen so many of these temples for the Roman gods. My mother was from a chieftain family of the Suebi. She taught me to worship Nerthus, the goddess of her people. Nerthus doesn’t need men to build her a temple. A sacred grove is where she wants her followers to worship.”
“My God doesn’t need temples made by men, either.”
Adela nodded, then pointed at the amphitheater. “The Romans build almost as many of those. Are the ones who die there offered to the Roman gods?”
“There is a sacrifice at the start, but the games are mostly to entertain the crowds. They sometimes kill the followers of Jesus as punishment for refusing to worship the Roman gods. They think their gods will be offended by the refusal.”
A deep frown curved Adela’s mouth down. “I can’t forget that man on the cross in Octodurus.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “The Romans are too much like their gods, cruel with a lust for human blood.” She turned her head away from him and spat.
Galen’s pulse ramped up. A door was opening. “My God isn’t like that.”
Before he could say more, Adela shook her head. “Enough talk about gods. I don’t want to think about them.” She nudged her horse into a trot.
Galen drew a deep breath and released it as a sigh. God, please open her mind to hear. Give me a chance to tell her about You before I take her home. Then help her decide to follow the Way…like me.
He relaxed in the saddle as he urged Astrelo to follow. Even if they found Otto in Luna, it would be almost four weeks before they could reach her village in Hermunduri country. Surely four weeks would be enough for God to claim her heart.
They reined in at the ludus just east of the amphitheater.
Galen grinned as he swung his leg over Astrelo’s neck and slid off. “If Otto’s here, we’ll be celebrating tonight.”
As he passed through the entrance, the sound of wood striking wood led him toward the practice arena. The lanista stood, arms crossed, watching several men practicing at the vertical posts around the edge.
The man turned when Galen cleared his throat. “Salve. I’m looking for the ludus of Marcus Antonius Brutus. Is this it?”
“No, but I know him. He comes here to look for new men for his ludi in Florentia and Roma.”
Galen rubbed the fresh scar on his cheek. “So, if I’m looking for one of his gladiators, I go to Florentia? How long to get there?”
“About two and a half days up the Via Aemiliana Scauri, but he has a ludus in Luca, too. That’s only a day on the same road.”
Galen’s shoulders drooped. Another two and a half days. Then he squared them. But maybe it was only one, and even if it was two and a half, Otto wouldn’t be fighting before he could get to him.
“Gratias tibi.”
The lanista nodded a reply before turning back to watch his men.
As Galen disappeared into the ludus, Adela drew a deep breath and held it. If his friend was here, Galen would be happy, but it would be the start of the end of their time together. Four weeks, and she would never see him again. She would be back with her father, and soon he would find her a husband.
No one Father would choose could be as kind and smart and funny as Galen. That thought tugged hard on her heart.
And the niggling fear wormed its way into her thoughts again. It was now a week since her days of a woman should have come. Mother’s had been later when she was sick, but Adela couldn’t remember ever feeling better.
She closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands.
She jumped when she felt the hand on her foot. Her eyelids popped open. Galen stood beside her, his brow furrowed.
“Is something wrong?”
She forced a smile. “No. Is he here?
Galen’s mouth turned down as his gaze locked onto her eyes.
She looked away. He’d be asking again if he saw the worry there.
He patted her foot. “No, but the lanista knows the man who bought him. Otto should be in one of his three ludi. So, I guess our tour of Italia isn’t over yet. We’ll start with Luna, then Florentia.” His shoulders and eyebrows rose together, then dropped. “And if we have to, on to Rome.”
Adela tried to keep her smile small. Galen must be disappointed, and he wouldn’t understand why his failure here could make her happy.
He’d left his hand on her foot, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “We’ve been traveling without a break for too long. The horses need a day of rest, and I think we could use one, too. This is as good a place as any for that.”
Adela fought the smile that kept trying to grow. “Whatever you think is best.”
“Let’s go find a…” He held his hand out and flicked his fingers to draw out her answer.
“Honestum diversorium.”
“For our horses and us, and then we’ll go to the…” His fingers asked for the next word.
“Thermae.”
“To get cleaned up before a good, hot dinner.”
He walked around her horse and mounted his. “Then tomorrow, while the horses spend a restful day in their stalls, we’ll explore Luna.”
As Galen led the way to the market area to ask directions, Adela let her smile break free. A day exploring with Galen…nothing could be better than that.
He dismounted first by a woman working a loom. Adela caught a word here and there, but most were new to her.
“Adela, come over here.”
She slid from her horse and tied him to Astrelo’s saddle.
As she stood beside Galen, the weaver chattered away about something, and he nodded. The weaver stepped into the room behind the shop and returned with some folded blue cloth.
When she shook it open and held it up to Adela, Adela’s breath caught. It was a long-sleeved tunic that reached almost to her ankles. The neck was shaped like a V, and a garland of blue and white flowers was stitched around the V.
“It’s beautiful, but it must cost too much.”
Galen’s usual smile widened into a grin. “I can’t be leading you around Luna dressed like me. Now that we’re back in the civilized world, I thought you’d enjoy dressing like a pretty woman again.” He drew a breath between his teeth. “Not that you aren’t pretty even in my clothes…but I thought you’d like this better.”
Adela stroked the crisp fabric. “What is this made from?”
“Linen. It can get hot in Italia, and linen is cooler than wool.”
He spoke some more Latin, and the weaver handed Adela a sash of darker blue.
Adela’s eyes widened. “This is too much.”
Galen’s eyes crinkled. “A piece of rope won’t do for a belt on a lady’s tunic.”
Adela’s smile turned into a grin. “Gratias tibi tam.”
“Voluptas meus est. That means it’s my pleasure…or delight.”
He turned to pay the weaver as Adela’s finger traced the dark blue flowers. That was a phrase she would remember. For every moment she spent with this kind man with laughing eyes, she could shout it to the sky. Voluptas meus est.
Chapter 24: A Day of Rest
Florentia, Day 23
Brutus leaned against the wall with his arms crossed as he watched Ursus shackle Otto’s wrists. “It will be a month, maybe two before I come to Florentia again. The Dacian might be ready to transfer to Roma by then. I’ll be needing some that are expendable to fight in the games at Saturnalia.”
Otto kept his jaw from clenching, but it was hard to stomach a Roman talking about a man as if he were an animal fattening for slaughter.
Brutus stepped away from the wall and summoned Otto to follow him with a snap and a flick of his fingers. Again, Otto forced his jaw muscles to relax. No Roman had the right to command him to heel as if he were a dog.
When they stepped through the ludus door into the sunshine, the same two bodyguards awaited them w
ith four horses.
Otto’s head snapped back. Three were the horses Brutus and his bodyguards had ridden from Octodurus, but in place of the sway-backed mare stood a prime stallion.
Otto turned to Brutus, who walked beside him. “I breed horses. That’s a fine stallion, one I wouldn’t be ashamed to take to the Roman garrisons to sell.”
Brutus glanced at him. “I want to get to Roma quickly, and that mare would slow me down. With good horses, it’s a ride of four and a half days. I’ll make a profit when I sell him in Roma.” He rubbed his freshly shaven cheek. “I want to get you cleaned up before we go to the ludus. We should be at the Baths of Trajan midday. It’s women bathing in the morning, men in the afternoon. I’d like you to catch the eye of the women who are regular visitors to the ludus…and especially of those who aren’t. The men will notice a fine horse, and I want to get them curious about what I’m bringing to Ludus Bruti as soon as possible. A few conversations while I show you off should start the clients coming.”
Otto looked away, trying to mask his thoughts. Unchained in a public bath. That would be the first time he wasn’t tied or caged since Gundahar took him.
Brutus’s laugh was more of a snort. “Don’t think that will be an opportunity to escape. Rufus and Africanus will be right next to you the whole time.”
As always, Africanus held the horse’s lead rope while Otto mounted. Rufus clamped the shackle ring around his right ankle, then tossed the chain under the horse. But this was no tired, old mare. The stallion shied when the ring and chain hit the ground under its belly. It knocked Rufus to the ground, and he scrambled away to avoid the dancing hooves. Brutus stepped over and stroked the horse’s neck. It calmed at his touch. He slipped the second ring around Otto’s free ankle and locked it.
Otto’s knees gripped the horse’s sides, and the chain jingled. The stallion shied again, but this time the noise moved with him. His eyes flared, and his sideways dancing turned into hooves flailing the air.