Gladiator Heart (13 page)

“I’m sure once we return to Rome, Valeria would love to come visit my villa,” Gaius said. “My family owns some of the best lands outside of the city.”

“That sounds lovely, what do you think, lady?” the Legatus asked her, a brief shimmer of hope in his eyes.

“I couldn’t think of anything worse.”

“My, you are a prickly little thing,” he commented with displeasure. “No wonder the Emperor can’t get you married off.”

“She’s tired and hungry.” Gaius made the excuse for her. “Her mood should improve once we get closer to home.”

Valeria doubted that. After the horrors she’d seen, she could never look at Rome the same way again. She’d lost respect for her once beloved city.

“In the meantime,” Gaius said, “I’ll do my best to keep her spirits up.”

Valeria shifted around in his lap, trying to get away from that hardness pressing into her and loosen his suffocating hold. She’d give anything to get away from him.

“What do you say we take a little sprint through the forest, get the wind in your hair?”

She didn’t like the suggestiveness of his tone. It was clear he meant to take off alone with her for other reasons. Would he dare to attempt such a brazen stunt?

“The lady doesn’t leave this detail without me.” Rufus rode up to their group. “She’s in my charge until she is wed.”

Valeria didn’t deserve his protection after the awful way she’d treated him, so she was grateful he’d still stand by her side. The thought of being alone with Gaius terrified her. It was lucky for her Rufus remained loyal.

“You don’t mind if we spend some time getting acquainted?” Gaius asked, almost too politely. “We were enjoying talking of home.”

Valeria gave Rufus a pleading look, begging him for help, but he ignored it.

“She can ride with you until we stop to make camp for the night,” Rufus said. “Then she shares my fire.”

Though it angered her, Valeria deserved his harsh treatment. She’d make a point to apologize to Rufus, as soon as Gaius let her go.

It was hard to separate the dreams and hallucinations from reality. The whole world around him had dissolved into fragments of blurry nothing. The pain didn’t go away, it didn’t get better. Sometimes he felt hot and feverish, other times he was shivering and freezing cold. His mouth was dry with thirst and hunger clawed at his insides.

Tristan was barely alive when they finally stopped to make camp. He collapsed to the ground with his men and didn’t care that he had no food and water. He didn’t even care if he survived. What did he have to live for?

Rome was to be his future. And he would die there. If he lived long enough.

“Tristan.” Valeria softly whispered his name.

Gods, what was she doing there? Life was bad enough without her interference. The more attention she showed to him, the worse the soldiers treated him. He kept his eyes closed and didn’t move, hoping it was just another hallucination. He knew it wasn’t when he felt her soft hands on him, and he didn’t have the energy to argue or push her away.

“Drink.” She flooded his mouth with fresh, cool water.

His mouth and throat were so dry that he couldn’t swallow at first and he started choking. He rolled onto his side and coughed up the mouthful of water.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’m trying to help you,” she snapped in a harsh whisper.

He glared at her. “I told you I don’t want your help.”

“So you’d rather die?”

He didn’t know anymore, but her touch reminded him of the life he’d once had, and lost, and the hurt was too much to bear. “Go away.”

“Drink some water first.” She slapped the full skin of water against his chest.

He relented and poured the water into his mouth, letting it saturate his swollen tongue and flow down his throat. He thought of his men and stopped drinking. They had to be just as parched as he was.

He nudged Angus with his elbow and handed the skin off. “Pass it around. Compliments of the Roman.”

“The rest of that was to clean your wounds,” Valeria scolded him.

“The men have more need of it,” he said. “Besides, tomorrow they’ll slash the whip across our backs and it won’t make a difference.”

“Let me put more salve on your wounds.” She pulled a small bundle from the waist of her breeches.

Tristan suddenly wondered what she would look like in her own clothes, fresh and clean, with the golden waves of her hair hanging down her back, instead of dressed in men’s breeches, wearing a dirty, torn tunic and one of his furs. Her hair was woven into a long braid, but wispy strands curled around her face. Her cheeks were smudged with dirt. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Roll onto your side.” She shoved at him.

Her fingers were gentle as she lathered on the salve that first burned, then cooled, and his skin shivered and twitched under her gentle touch.

“Make sure you don’t sleep on your back,” she ordered, “and try to keep dirt out of the wounds.”

Tristan knew that would be impossible. If the Romans weren’t giving them food and water, they certainly wouldn’t be keeping them clean.

Angus handed the empty water skin back to Tristan and looked at Valeria. “Thank you.”

She smiled and her eyes lit up. “You’re welcome. I’ll try to bring food—”

“What do you think you’re doing?” The Roman soldier who’d been put in charge of torturing them appeared behind Valeria.

Tristan saw the slight twinge of fear in her eyes, but she hid it well, squaring her shoulders and setting her lips into a stubborn line. The woman had enough nerve to defy an entire army, and he admired her daring. She was amazing.

Valeria froze at the sound of Titus’s voice behind her. She should have been more careful, but she’d assumed no one paid the prisoners much attention during the night.

“I asked you a question.” Titus spoke louder. “Were you not told to stay away from the prisoners?”

“I just brought them something to drink.” She hurried to wrap up the cloth bundle of salve she’d brought for Tristan’s back and closed it in her hand.

She felt the biting sting of the whip across her forearm before she heard the loud crack that followed. The bright pain shocked her and her gasp ended on a startled cry. Blood rose to her skin in a red line. Her eyes filled with tears as the stinging pain grew worse. That was only from one, single lash. How had Tristan survived a thorough beating?

Valeria calmly rose to her feet, though she was screaming on the inside, and turned to face the soldier. “You would dare strike me?”

“You were warned to stay away from the prisoners,” he replied in a cool tone. “Next time I’ll give you five lashes.”

She didn’t want to find out how much that would hurt.

“This has to stop.” Rufus emerged from the dark night like a phantom and walked over to her. “The soldiers have orders to follow, and if you continue to get in their way, I’ll let them do as they will with you.”

“But—”

“Start walking.” Rufus pointed towards where they’d made camp.

She hated to think what would happen to her with Rufus no longer protecting her, but she also wanted to help Tristan and his men at least survive the journey to Rome. She had allies there and had a good chance of helping him. In that moment, she knew she could not have both, so she dragged her feet back to camp and climbed into the back of the wagon.

There were certain times in her life when she wished for her mother. This was one of them. What would it feel like to be loved by a mother? To be held when you were sad, or afraid? To know that no matter what, there was one person in the world who would always love you? For all Valeria knew, she was not meant to have love.

The next morning Valeria heard talk that another prisoner had died during the night. Unable to stand it, she walked as swiftly as her feet would carry her to where the prisoners were being tied to the back of a supply wagon to begin their long march for the day.

Tristan stood beside Angus, not looking well, but he was alive. Valeria didn’t know what to say to him. Knowing he lived should be good enough.

“You know you’re not supposed to be back here.” Titus uncoiled the length of his whip. “There are things you shouldn’t see.”

“I’ve seen more than I want to, believe me.” She eyed the whip in his hand.

Would he strike her again? She’d be sure the soldier’s mother got an earful of his rotten behavior when she got back to Rome. Gossip spread faster than fire in the streets.

“As soon as you go, I can carry on with my morning’s business.” Titus held the whip like he had every intention of striking someone.

“Let her stay.” Gaius rode up behind her. “Let her watch what happens when one does not obey their master.”

Gaius sat proudly atop his horse, staring down at her with a smug smile. Valeria knew if these soldiers were about to enjoy something, she was about to hate it.

Titus whipped the prisoners, shouting and yelling at them the whole time, cursing them as foul scum not fit to live to see the glory of Rome. One by one the prisoners collapsed under their punishment, falling to their knees. Tristan was the last to give in and that earned him an extra nasty beating from Titus.

Valeria could watch no more.

“Stop!” She caught the end of the whip mid-swing and jerked it out of Titus’s hands.

Before she knew what she was doing, she started lashing the whip at Titus, causing him to shield his face with his hands and simper like a coward.

“Valeria, what in the name of the Gods are you doing?” Gaius jumped down from his horse and hurried to wrest the whip out of her hands. “What gives you the right to assault a soldier of Rome?”

Valeria stared at Titus, hatred welling inside her as she panted heavily from her exertion. “I owed him one.”

Gaius coiled up the whip and shoved it against Titus’s chest. He took Valeria over to his horse and forced her up into the saddle. She didn’t fight him this time. She’d won her battle for the day and knew any further outbreaks would only lead to her punishment. Gaius climbed up behind her and nudged his horse into an easy trot.

“The next time you do something like that,” he said in a low, menacing voice at her ear, “I’ll see your back stripped bare and the lash brought down on that tender, beautiful skin of yours. I am not above such a thing. I’ll wield it myself.”

Of that, Valeria had no doubt. But it wouldn’t happen this morning, and she was not going to let anything ruin her good mood. She had a great feeling of satisfaction for what she’d just done. Keeping up her reckless behavior, however, would only end in her receiving the sound lashing everyone was threatening her with. Valeria had proven her point. She would be returning to her old life soon, and it was time to start acting like a lady again. She’d learned just how unforgiving Rome could be otherwise.

In the slow-moving days that followed, Rome loomed ever closer. Snow still blanketed the land, but it was lighter and often melted away when the sun shared its warmth.

It was late afternoon, ten days into their journey, when they reached the great walled city of Florentia. They entered through the main city gates where their party split up. The soldiers took the prisoners and supplies to the military barracks while Valeria and the officers marched through the city on their horses, passing the street vendors, restaurants and taverns, brothels, a public bath house, and the great amphitheater, before coming to a stop at an inn.

The Odyssey was a large building with its own private spa and baths attached. Inside were five private dining rooms with couches arranged amidst stone fountains gurgling with fresh water. Exquisite, colorful paintings adorned the walls. Each room had a large picture window that looked out onto the river, and tall green plants gave life to corners and lined the hallways that led to the guest suites.

Valeria was overcome by the lavish comforts of her room. High windows let in the afternoon sun and the temperature was warm and the air humid and heavy. In the middle of the room was a large canopied bed draped with sheer, flowing curtains. In one corner, two couches lined the walls and there was a low table between them. On the table was a platter of fresh fruit. In another corner was a wardrobe and a stand with a washing basin.

The first thing she wanted was a hot bath. She called for one to be prepared in her room rather than go to the public bath. The patroness, having seen her disheveled appearance upon their arrival, was excited to bring new clothes and accessories for Valeria to choose from while the servants drew her bath. She selected two sleeveless, linen tunics and three different stolas of the same cut to wear over them, one in light blue, one in red, and one in a deep lavender. Adding a pair of sandals and a dark blue cape, Valeria would once again look like a Roman. The patroness even left her matching ribbons with which to bind her stolas and weave into her hair.

Valeria lingered over her bath, enjoying the solitude and the feeling of being clean and fresh. She scrubbed her hair and cleaned under her nails. The blisters had faded from her feet since she spent the days riding with Gaius on his horse, but she still bore a scar on her arm from the lash mark. She rested in the bath until the water went cold and the bright light of the sun had given way to the evening.

Standing naked in the twilight, she rubbed scented oils into her skin. Thoughts of Tristan drifted through her mind, making her body ache for his touch, but she tucked the thoughts away. It was too hard to think of him, especially since he was surely suffering at this moment while she was luxuriating.

As she dressed, a servant girl came to light the oil lamps and inform her that the rest of her party waited for her to join them in one of the dining rooms. Valeria draped the lavender stola over her white tunic and wrapped the matching ribbon around her torso to draw the stola tight and emphasize her slender waist. She bound up some of her lustrous blonde hair with braids and gathered the rest of the length behind the nape of her neck with a ribbon, letting the curls fall over one shoulder.

Once she tied on her new leather sandals, she slipped dangling silver earrings into her ears and slid on a matching bracelet to circle her upper arm. Then she went to the mirror to apply kohl around her eyes and rouge to her cheeks. She studied the face staring back at her. Valeria looked every bit the noble Roman lady she was, yet inside she felt nothing.