Gladiator Heart (21 page)

“Angus is so fair and handsome,” a woman said, “he almost looks like a Roman.”

“I wouldn’t kick Decimus out of bed, either.”

Valeria was jostled around by the crowd as she moved along, and the rampant chattering of so many people faded into one muffled din. Her ears were ringing by the time she made it out of the arena.

As the crowd dispersed around her, she lowered the hood of her cape and looked up and down the large city square, trying to decide which way to go. It was late afternoon so she had some time before she had to return home. If she turned left, the streets would lead her to shops owned by tradesmen and some street vendors selling their wares. To the right, the streets lent themselves to restaurants, brothels and rowdy taverns. Just the kind of company she wanted to keep for the rest of her day. That’s where she’d find out how and where to make the bet she’d promised.

Starting off in the right direction, she came to a sudden halt when she saw Rufus leaning against the outside wall of the arena, his big arms crossed over his chest. He stared straight at her, wearing a look that said he was less than pleased to find her not only at the arena, but leaving it alone.

Knowing he would only try to convince her to return to the palace, or follow her wherever she went for the rest of the day, she gave in and trudged up to him.

“Were you able to catch some of the games?” she asked innocently.

“I thought it was decided you weren’t to come here today.” He kept his voice low as he gave her the reprimand, his eyes blazing with anger.

“I changed my mind.” Valeria looked away across the square to where she’d been headed. She didn’t feel like arguing.

“If anyone saw you here alone, if Crispus should have spotted you, or worse, Gaius—”

“No one saw me,” she interrupted his unwanted, though valid, argument. “I was careful.”

“You were irresponsible.”

Valeria stuck her hands on her hips in a flustered huff. “Did you come here just to insult me?”

She was well aware that she took risks, sometimes dangerous ones, but she was done being told what to do. If her actions came with consequences, she was prepared to face those consequences.

“I came to escort you back to the palace.” Rufus fought the start of a smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “But I have a feeling I’m in for another one of your wild schemes.”

Valeria knew he wouldn’t stay mad at her. “Well, since you want to help me…” She tapped her finger on her bottom lip. “Where would one go if they wanted to place a bet on one of the gladiators?”

Rufus stared harshly at her under drawn brows.

“Don’t give me that look,” she snapped, crossing her arms in defiance. “You can tell me, or I’ll find out myself.”

“It would be improper for you to visit one of those places.”

“Good, because I’m feeling a bit improper today.” She left Rufus standing there and made her way into the city.

He was right behind her, following her through the streets as she passed restaurants in which she’d never eaten a meal and brothels posing as respectable businesses. A large number of taverns populated the rest of the street, some quiet and subdued, others loud and disorderly.

She stopped outside what appeared to be the noisiest, meanest place in the city. The front of the building was in desperate need of repair and she had to wonder what the inside must look like. The wooden door sat propped open and she strained to see what might be lurking in the darkened interior, when a man came flying out and landed on the ground at her feet.

Valeria jumped back in surprise and Rufus stood closer to her, one arm held protectively in front of her as she peered down at the man.

He groaned and rolled over onto his back, looking up at them with bloodshot eyes. “Seeing such a lovely face has much improved my day,” he said, his speech slurred by the large amount of alcohol he must have consumed in the tavern.

A bruise was forming at the corner of his mouth, and though unshaven with a bit of a stench to him, he wore fine clothes, suggesting he had some level of class.

“Do you always make such an exit?” Valeria asked, smiling as she teased him.

“Only when I swindle the wrong man.”

Rufus turned to her, a look of concern on his face. “Do you really mean to go in there?”

“Sure.” She glanced anxiously at the man on the ground. “How bad can it be?”

The man staggered to his feet and dusted himself off. “A lovely thing like you doesn’t want to go in there.”

Valeria stiffened at his words. “Why not?”

“Vorenus runs this place, you ever heard of him?”

“No.” She shook her head, not sure if that was good, or not.

“He’s involved in all sorts of dealings, so his place tends to attract a good number of people with less than agreeable manners.”

“He sounds like what I’m looking for.”

The man’s dark brows shot up in surprise. “You’re looking for a shady character then, are you?”

“I’m looking to place a bet on a gladiator,” she informed him, splitting into an adventurous smile.

Rufus grunted his disapproval and shook his head, dragging his hand over the back of his neck.

“Vorenus runs the shadiest business in the city,” the man said.

She frowned, and uncertainty crept into her. “Is betting on gladiators shady business?”

“Lady, betting on anything in this city is shady business.” The man gave a polite bow of his head and wandered off down the street.

Valeria hesitated outside the door, suddenly having second thoughts, then decided she’d better hurry up and go in before someone else came flying out at her.

The interior of the tavern was one large room and had a high ceiling. Wooden walkways on the second floor circled all around. Long wooden tables were filled with a variety of people, mostly men drinking and playing dice. The women were either serving maids or prostitutes, for no real lady would dare enter a place like this.

The loud shouts of an argument lifted over the maelstrom of racket and two men started fighting each other. When the stronger man punched his opponent out, knocking him to the ground, Rufus grabbed her arm.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“Not yet.” Valeria snatched her arm back. “I want to find this Vorenus person.”

“You’re looking for Vorenus?” A woman with frayed brown hair and a tawdry dress hanging off one shoulder hastened by from behind them.

“Yes, I am,” Valeria answered, taking in the woman’s rumpled appearance with curiosity. She’d never seen a woman of the streets up close. “Where could I find him?”

“That’s him over there.” She pointed to the winner of the fight.

Valeria stared at him in shock. Was she really so surprised that man was Vorenus? It was just her luck.

The man was about the same age as Rufus, with a dark beard covering his face, and he wore a tunic open at the neck and leather breeches. Determined to do this, Valeria walked up behind him just as he was sitting back down at the table.

“That’ll teach him to load the dice.” Vorenus picked up a mug of ale and guzzled it down before slamming it back on the table. “No one tries to stick a cock in my ass and gets away with it.”

The men sitting with him all laughed, so Valeria had to speak up to be heard. “Excuse me, could I have a word?”

Vorenus pivoted around to look up at her. “A pretty little thing like you doesn’t need any words.” His gaze travelled over her with appreciation. “But I’m not hiring at the moment.”

She tried to hide her shock, but her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I do not seek employment. I’d like to place a wager.”

He narrowed his eyes in speculation, studying her more closely. “What kind of a wager?”

The other men at the table had gained a sudden interest in their conversation and grew quiet as they watched them.

“I’d like to place a bet on a gladiator.”

Vorenus broke into a wide grin and laughed gruffly. “You want to bet on a gladiator?”

“Yes.” She gave a firm nod of her head.

“Which one?”

“The Gaul,” she replied. “The one called Decimus.”

He contemplated her seriously, then indicated the empty bench next to him. “Please, join me, lady.”

Valeria accepted his invitation and sat perched on the end of the bench.

“You know the odds are against that one,” Vorenus divulged, speaking to her like she was a silly little girl who had no idea what she was playing at. “Atilla is a safe bet.”

“I didn’t come here looking for a safe bet.” She leveled her humorless gaze on him. “If you don’t want to take my bet, I’ll find someone else who will.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t take it,” he argued. “But I don’t want you coming back and causing trouble when you lose.” He gave Rufus a quick, uneasy perusal.

“I know how the rules work. Win or lose, it’s up to the Gods.”

Vorenus smiled with curious amusement. “How much did you want to wager?”

Valeria opened her purse and emptied a pile of coins on the table. “Looks like about a thousand denarii to me.”

The other men made shocked noises, and Vorenus frowned as he stared at the money. She guessed he wasn’t used to taking such large wagers, especially from a woman. If he knew who she was he’d understand why she had so much coin, but she didn’t want anyone to find out she’d been here or that she’d bet on Tristan.

A serving maid brought another round of full mugs for the men and Vorenus kept his eyes on the coins while he took a swallow.

He set the mug down and grinned at her. “Lady, that’s going to raise the stakes considerably.”

Valeria smiled back at him. “I’m betting on it.”

“Most are laying the bet, you know, counting on him and Angus to lose because they’re still new to the arena.”

“That’s their problem.”

“I’ll be damned.” Vorenus slapped his hand on the table and looked at her with a new-found respect. “The Gods finally send me a player with balls, and she’s a woman.”

Valeria sighed with relief. She’d made her bet and it had turned out to be easier than she’d thought. It wouldn’t guarantee Tristan victory or freedom, but swaying the odds in his favor couldn’t hurt.

Vorenus motioned with his hand to the serving maid at the bar and she came over and placed a full mug of ale in front of Valeria.

“Have a drink with me now that our business is out of the way.”

She hesitated and looked to Rufus. He actually appeared pleased, like he might be coaxed to smile if she tried hard enough. “Only if I can have one for my friend, too.”

“Of course, of course.” Vorenus motioned for Rufus to sit down. “We’re all friends here.”

Rufus sat beside her on the bench. “You never cease to amaze me,” he spoke quietly so only she could hear.

Valeria picked up the heavy mug in front of her and took a long swallow of the honeyed ale. “That’s good,” she said, licking the frothy foam her lips.

“Let’s have a toast.” Vorenus held out his mug.

Valeria and Rufus lifted their mugs, and the other men around the table followed suit.

“To the Gaul!” Vorenus bellowed. “May he have many victories and weight our pockets with coin!”

They crashed their mugs together and ale sloshed all over the table and down Valeria’s arm. She laughed and took another long swallow from her mug. That was a toast she could happily drink to.

Back in his cell, a wooden cot with a rough woolen blanket folded over it lined the wall. A small table beside it held a burning oil lamp, and a bucket of fresh water sat on the ground in the corner. Tristan wondered for a moment if he’d been brought to another’s cell by mistake.

“Your wins in the arena will earn you many things.” The lanista entered his cell and looked about as if to make certain everything was in its place. “First come the comforts, such as a bed and fresh water, then the weapons and money.”

“There is only one thing I wish to earn,” Tristan said.

Freedom was the only thing he wanted from Rome. To return to his life, his lands, his people. Money and a fresh cot held no meaning for him. It was simply Rome’s way of distracting him from his true purpose.

“If freedom is what you want,” the lanista replied, “you’ll first have to win the crowd.”

“Angus and I have done that.”

“Do you think a few wins will earn their favor?” The lanista gave him a pointed look. “The mob is fickle. Only the really great can become champions.”

Hadn’t he and Angus proven themselves? How much more would it take? “Are you saying I’m not great?”

The lanista walked over and stared down at him. “Not yet.”

Tristan felt a small defeat at his words. He thought he’d been good enough. The crowd had cheered so loudly, had called for him and Angus to live. They had the crowd’s favor for now, and they had to keep it.

“How do I become a champion?”

The lanista’s mouth turned up in a half smile. “Never lose.”

Tristan sat on his cot as the lanista’s footsteps faded away. There was much hard work ahead of him. He had to get stronger, faster, smarter. He had to become the greatest champion the arena has ever seen. Maybe then he would be worthy. Maybe then he would be granted freedom.

Or he would be dead and none of it would matter.

Alone in his cell, his thoughts turned to Valeria, as they tended to do. He imagined he could feel the softness and warmth of her body, her welcoming arms around him. In dreams he could smell her hair and taste her lips as he became one with her body. Would he ever feel her again?

“Good evening, my lord.” A woman in a white slave’s dress stepped into his cell.

The heavy door closed behind her.

“Who are you?” Tristan demanded. “Why are you here?” He wasn’t used to having so many visitors in his cell.

“Apologies, my lord.” She bowed her head. “I was sent to serve you.”

The dim light from the lamp shone off the waves of her long brown hair, and upon closer inspection her face was one of beauty. But she was a pale comparison to Valeria. With uncertainty in her brown eyes she held his gaze. Tristan could guess what service she’d been sent for, and that she did not look forward to carrying out her chore.

“Leave me.” He propped his elbows on his knees and hung his head in his hands, staring at the ground between his feet. He could take no woman with Valeria’s presence in his mind.