GladiatorsAtonement (6 page)

When his breathing evened, he slipped out of her and rolled
onto his back, taking her with him. She settled her head against his chest, her
arms wrapped around him, her legs entwined with his.

Eratos wanted to tell her he loved her, but he could not. He
was afraid if he said anything then he would shatter the dream.

And right now, he just couldn’t stand the thought that their
time together was going to end.

Helena said nothing—he just held her close under the stars.
“Do one thing for me, Eratos.”

“Anything,
anam cara
.”

“Just be careful when you take on Thelonius. I-I would hate
to see you hurt again.”

“I promise,
anam cara
.”

I promise.

He only hoped he could keep this promise to her.

Chapter Six

Thelonius did not return for several days. Every day he sent
a runner to inform Helena he was not returning. It made her nervous, and she
wondered if he was going to take flight again.

She knew beyond a shadow of doubt this was their only
opportunity to strike at Thelonius. Thelonius had hiding places all over the
world. Eratos could spend the rest of his life chasing her husband.

It scared her, for it meant Eratos would continue to pursue
him and she might never see Eratos again. She wanted Eratos to stay with her,
but it was selfish to ask him to remain when he deserved the right to blood
atonement for all the transgression Thelonius had brought upon them. She was
selfish for asking him not to kill Thelonius sooner, but she was afraid Eratos
would die, not only physically but spiritually. Somehow, deep down she knew she
would not be healed, nor would Eratos be healed if Thelonius was killed. The
hurt would still continue.

Her husband was a coward at heart, and it would not take
much for him to flee from Antioch. Her husband did not stay in one place for
very long.

“My lady.” The runner bowed and held out a scroll.

“Thank you.” Reaching into the pocket of her stola, she
fished out a small coin for the young boy who ferried the message to her. The
boy bowed again and took off running toward the center of the city.

Breaking the seal, she read Thelonius’ hurriedly scribbled
words. Crumpling the papyrus scroll in her fist, she tossed it into the hearth
of their home, which always burned despite the heat, and cursed under her
breath.

Damn him.

Walking to the window, she saw Eratos in the garden. Her
heart skipped a beat when she spotted him. He was pacing in the garden, along
the far wall that bordered the cliff. He was pacing like a caged lion, hungry
for its prey. Every night Eratos waited in the garden for news of Thelonius’
return.

Helena took a deep breath, smoothing out the creases of her
stola as she made her way outside and toward him. He was staring off over the
city as the sun began to set, his brow wrinkled, deep in thought.

“He is not returning?” he asked, not looking at her.

“No, he remains away again tonight.” Helena sighed. “He is
frightened.”

“Aye, it pleases me, but it is not enough.” Eratos cursed
out loud. An ancient word of his people, she could only assume. He ran his
hands over his head before his gaze settled on her. The fire of his anger softening
as their eyes locked.

“What will you do?”

Eratos inclined his head toward the city. “Drive him out of
every brothel and bath if I have to. Haunt his every step at night until he
returns here, where I shall finish him off.”

“Well, you do not have to search every house of ill repute.
I know where he is. He’s staying at Assam’s Pleasure House.” Helena turned away
and gazed out over the city. Eratos came up behind her, slipping his arms
around her. She leaned back against his chest.

“
Anam cara
, what is wrong?”

“I worry for you. I worry you will not return tonight.”

He turned her around to face him. Helena fought back the
choking tears that threatened to spill as he took her hand and kissed it,
sending a shiver of delight through her. “I will return to you, Helena, I will
not break my promise.”

“I know you won’t. You are a man of honor. It is not you I
worry about… Thelonius is an evil man and is well protected—”

Eratos silenced her lips with a tender kiss that made her
melt. He pulled her close to him and she laid her head against his chest,
listening to the beat of his heart. “Know this,
anam cara
, I will
return.”

“You promise?” It was foolish. He could not control the
hands of the fate, but asking it made her feel better.

“Aye. I promise. I will return.”

“I know. I fear for you. Be careful.”

He smiled at her and ran his knuckles down her cheek. “I
will always return for you,
anam cara
.” With one final kiss he ran
toward the alleyway at the edge of her garden and disappeared into the shadows.

Helena stared out over the city, the lights from thousands
of torches. The Imperial Palace glowing, but vacant as the emperor tried to
restore Rome to her former glory. The Rome she knew was gone—her life of
solitude was all over. All she could think about, all she lived for now was
Eratos.

She couldn’t lose him. Helena knew she would not survive
without him and knew if they failed, or if Eratos lost his life, what she would
have to do. What her father had done before the Praetorian Guard had come and
finished him off.

Slit his wrists and faced death like a warrior.

Perhaps she would not be allowed to enter Elysia like she
was sure where her father ended up. Maybe for plotting murder she would end up
in Tartarus, but either way, when she faced her judgment she would then forget
about Eratos.

Letting out a long sigh, she stared up at the sky and
thought of the stars she had watched the other night with Eratos. How she would
love to be a falling star, shooting across the sky for all eternity. Something
beautiful and treasured. Free from pain, free from fear and the mortal confines
of this earth.

But she would only consider it if Eratos was by her side. If
she could not have her Celtic warrior, then she would rather spend all eternity
being tortured by the Furies, which was exactly what awaited Thelonius.

* * * * *

Assam’s Pleasure House was located in the seediest district
of Antioch. As soon as Helena had told him the name, Eratos had known exactly
where it was located. His stomach twisted and turned with apprehension as he
stood in the shadows, cloaked, just watching the house for a long
time—observing the patrons who freely came and went.

You can do this.

Yet his body trembled as he stared at the large center block
in Antioch. It was an unassuming place, fashioned the same way as many of the
buildings, only inside nightmares took place for some. Thelonius had brought
him here. A fine sheen of sweat broke across his brow, and he gripped the
handle of the sword safely ensconced under the folds of his robe.

Do not be a coward.

As he scanned the marketplace he noticed Thelonius’ hired
guards relaxing in the
souk
.

How odd indeed.

It was so unlike Thelonius to be unguarded, especially when
the fool was frightened. Steeling his resolve, Eratos took a step forward,
forcing himself to walk toward the main doors. Assam, the greedy owner of the
pleasure house, was at the door collecting money.

“Can I help you, kind sir?” Assam asked, the scent of garlic
assailing Eratos’ senses.

“Thelonius,” Eratos answered gruffly.

“Ah, well, that can be difficult. The privacy of my patrons
is of the upmost importance to me.”

Eratos pulled out three gold coins. Coins that he had
pilfered off a dead senator during the great fire of Rome, coins given by the
Emperor Nero to those he favored. Assam’s eyes lit up, the lust for gold
burning in his coal-black eyes. Eratos held the coins just out of reach.

“He has the finest suite at the farthest reaches of my
house.” Eratos dropped the coins in Assam’s outstretched palm. Assam bowed.
“Enjoy your stay, master.”

Eratos recoiled at the title that had been bestowed on him,
even just briefly.

Call me master, my warrior.

Shaking his head, he tried to dispel Thelonius from his
mind. Never again would he allow another to control him, to rule over him, to
hold him against his will.

Thankfully, Assam was just like all the other typical Roman
bath owners who were easily influenced by a gold coin or two. They held their
client’s privacy only by the worth of money in their pocket. Even if they
proclaimed the contrary.

He kept his cloak on as he passed through the sweltering
confines of the bathhouse. From private rooms he could hear the moans of
pleasure as others sought their comfort.

It made him think of Helena, but he had to wipe the thought
of spending the night in her arms away. He had come here for one purpose, and
that was to drive Thelonius from his hiding spot. Besides, he would never bring
Helena to a place like this. To Eratos it was almost sacrilegious to bring such
a delicate beautiful flower to a place such as this.

The owner had told him Thelonius had the finest chamber in
the farthest reaches of the house. No guards accompanied him as the owner did
not allow violence in his house.

Perfect.

There would be no one to bother him. He wanted to make his
message clear. As he approached the room a servant, a young half-naked man,
moved toward him with drying cloths.

“Boy,” Eratos whispered. The young man approached and Eratos
placed a gold coin in his palm. “Allow me.”

The young man’s face lit with pleasure and he nodded and ran
off. Eratos held the drying cloths in one hand and knocked on the door.

“Come,” Thelonius bellowed from the other side of the door.

Eratos took a deep breath and prayed Thelonius was alone.
For if he was tormenting someone, Eratos knew without a doubt he would break
his word to Helena and kill Thelonius in this bathhouse.

Eratos slipped through the blanket of steam, which obscured
his vision, but he caught sight of Thelonius lounging in the hot bath, his back
to him as he ate grapes from a plate on the edge.

“Are those the towels I requested?” Thelonius asked, not
turning to look.

“Aye,” Eratos whispered, mimicking the sound of the young
man’s voice.

“Then bring them here.” Thelonius snapped his fingers and
Eratos gritted his teeth as he silently padded over to the edge of the bath.
Eratos knelt down, Thelonius continued to pick grapes and pop them into his
mouth.

Eratos pulled out a towel and wound it tight. Holding it
out, he brought it down, stuffing it in Thelonius’ mouth so he could not
scream.

Thelonius thrashed.

“The more you fight it, the harder I twist, and I know from
the state of your breath your teeth are rotten and soft. Since image is so
important to you, I know you would not want to lose any of them.”

Thelonius stopped moving.

“You know who I am?”

Thelonius shook his head that he did.

“Good. Do you know why I have come?”

Again he assented in the positive.

“Good, very good.” Eratos tied the drying cloth at the back
of Thelonius’ head. “I have a blade with me and you are very familiar with how
I use it after watching me fight for so long. Get out of the bath, slowly.”

Thelonius stumbled out of the bath. Eratos spied the irons
Thelonius like to use when he was bleeding someone. Thelonius believed bathing
in the blood of the young kept him vigorous. Holding out his sword, he pointed
at the irons. “Put your hands in there, over your head.”

Thelonius’ eyes were bugged out and Eratos could tell he was
terrified.

Good.

It was exactly what he was hoping for. He chained Thelonius
in place, baring his back to him. He unsheathed his blade slowly, making sure
Thelonius heard every inch of the sword scraping from his leather scabbard.

Walking around to the front side, he held out the short
sword he had acquired from a Roman legionnaire on the night Rome burned. The
night he obtained his freedom. Thelonius just stared at the metal blade, his
eyes wide with fear.

“Do you know how I got this tattoo?” He pointed to his
marred tattoo that had been placed there by a druid high priest the night he
made his first kill, the one Thelonius had destroyed. “It was the night I
hunted a wolf and killed it. A huge, wild beast. It was where I earned my name.
The last connection to my home spiritually, my only tie with the wolf.” He ran
the blade along Thelonius’ cheek, but did not slice the flesh. “You marred it,
broke my connection to my spirit animal and for that I will make sure all will
know you are a murdering pig.” He leaned forward, his voice shook. “I am going
to mark you with my blade.”

His prey moaned and thrashed. Eratos broke out in a sweat,
no matter how many times he had pictured doing this, he found himself fearing
this moment. He was not a beast—he was not even a warrior any longer.

Then he thought of Helena, and all the pain Thelonius had
caused her. He made his first cut agonizingly slow. He tuned out the muffled
howls of pain coming from Thelonius. The man had a low tolerance for pain
because he soon passed out, which made it easier for Eratos to finishing
carving the simplified rune symbol that signified his father’s name.

When he was done he took a fistful of bath salts and tossed
them onto the wound. Thelonius roused with that and hollered, thrashing wildly
as the salt burned his flesh.

Eratos turned around to face him, slapping Thelonius to get
him to be quiet.

“Know this, if you harm her I will never stop hunting you.
Never. Even after you die I will journey to the fiery pits of your Tartarus to
torment you further. Leave her be, and you will not see me again.”