The Champion (11 page)

“Who is the bold one?” Tibi asked without thinking.

“Cassandra Lupa. She’s a she wolf who used to be
very
close to the master. She scorned him for a wealthy wine merchant last year. Now that she’s newly divorced, she wants him back in her clutches.”

Jealousy pinched Tibi hard. All her life she’d regretted being female and sought to be more like the son her father always pined for. But in that moment she yearned to be more feminine, a siren who stunned Alexius and ruined him for
all
other women.

His arm draped over the she wolf’s slim shoulders, Alexius toyed with the gold bauble dangling from her ear as he continued his animated conversation. Cassandra rubbed Alexius’s back, filling Tibi’s stomach with queasy distress. Hating the way her heart ached, she dragged her gaze from the byplay and moved from the window. She grabbed her
palla
off a hook on the back of the door and left the room.

“Shall I come with you?” Leta called from the doorway.

Tibi waved her back. “No, I won’t be gone long.”

Without considering where she was headed, she hastened along the corridor, down the back stairs and, careful to avoid the gathering in the central courtyard, out into the herb garden on the northern side of the house.

The glow of a single lantern made a small arch of
light surrounding the door. The distant melody of the music inside and the fragrant bouquet of rosemary, dill and coriander soothed her rattled emotions. She wrapped the
palla
around her shoulders to ward off the chill in the night air.

Disconcerted by the ferocity of her unrequited feelings for Alexius, she meandered deeper into the garden, the faint moonlight illuminating her way.

She sank onto a bench beneath a lemon tree. Her palms on the cool, smooth marble seat, she leaned back and breathed in the light citrus sweetness of the rustling leaves above her. Stars twinkled in the night sky for as far as she could see. She wondered if the gods really existed or if the God Pelonia served was real. If so, did any of them care about her plight in the least?

The door to the house opened. An elegant couple invaded Tibi’s tranquil refuge. The dim light prevented her from seeing their faces and the distance kept her from hearing their conversation. Not wanting to be seen for fear of being recognized, she moved over on the bench and deeper into the shadows as she waited for the right moment to leave.

Finally free of the nest of women who clung to him like boa constrictors, Alexius moved to a solitary spot near a painted column. Less than three hours into the party and he was bored for the first time since Tibi had taken over his life two days before. A quick glance around the courtyard told him none of his company was of the same frame of mind. Even so, he wished he’d canceled the whole gathering in favor of spending a quiet night with the woman he loved.

The beat of the music quickened. A few of his more
inebriated gladiators began to call for their favorite admirers to dance.

“Shall
I
dance for
you?
” Cassandra moved up behind him and entwined her arm with his.

He looked down into his former favorite’s seductively painted eyes, wondering why he’d never noticed the avarice in her gaze. Velus had much to answer for. He’d allowed Cassandra entrance tonight without asking him first. She and the
triumvirate
of widows chasing on his heels had been driving him mad. He shrugged out of her grasp. “Not tonight.”

She gave him a pout he’d seen her practice more than once in a mirror. “You used to love it when I danced for you.”

“Times change.” She seemed to think nothing had altered between them in the year since she’d left him to marry a man three times her age whom she’d deemed more suitable. She acted as though he should be grateful for her return when, in truth, he’d failed to notice her absence within hours of her departure.

“Times change?” Her smile faded as the hard truth of his rejection pierced her vanity. She planted her fists on her generous hips. “Times
change?
You mangy dog. Who do you think you are?” she spat. “Have you forgotten that I am a patrician’s daughter, gladiator? How dare you dismiss me when you should be thanking the gods that I bother to remember your name.”

Alexius struggled not to laugh at Cassandra’s theatrics or her need to throw her social superiority in his face. How different Tibi was. She never treated him as less than an equal. “Clearly I’m not a man worthy of you, my lady. It’s probably best if you seek more appreciative company elsewhere. Now, I have other guests to entertain.”

He offered her his back and sought out his friend Sergius, standing near one of the banquet tables.

“I’ve never thought of you as a coward,” said Sergius. “But your bravery just now is unprecedented.”

“How so?”

“When you left Cassandra she looked as though she meant to flay the skin off your back with her fingernails.” Sergius popped a handful of berries into his mouth. “What happened?”

As he skimmed over the details, Alexius swiped a chalice of
mulsum
off the tray of a passing servant.

“Congratulations.” Sergius’s blue eyes were filled with mirth. “You finally put that hag in her place.”

“I should have been clearer sooner and saved myself the aggravation of enduring her presence tonight,” he said, cringing at the high-pitched squeals of a woman who’d decided to wade into the cold water of the largest fountain.

“Why didn’t you?”

“In truth, I forgot all about the greedy wench.” Alexius lifted the chalice to his lips and took a deep draught of the honey-laced wine. As he surveyed the fete, he found it impossible to shake his bone-deep boredom with the dancing, games of chance and drunken foolishness overtaking his garden like weeds. The food was delicious, but he’d had his fill. The same boredom prevailed with the women who were all high-born, willing and beautiful, but lacked even half as much charm as Tibi.

He looked to the shuttered window of Tibi’s room just beneath the eaves of the portico. She couldn’t possibly sleep with the incessant racket. The revelry needed to end. He signaled for the music to stop, but soon realized that the musicians didn’t see him through the incense
and torch smoke. If he called out, they weren’t likely to hear him over the din. Pricked by yet another annoyance, he started toward the group in the corner. Before he reached them, Velus burst into the garden, drawing his full attention.

“What is it?” he asked, alarmed by his steward’s noticeable anxiety.

“There’s trouble in the herb garden.”

Alexius aimed for the door. Velus trailed him. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” the steward said, huffing to keep up. “I heard yelling and went to investigate. Livia Marciana was on her way to fetch you. She said a fight had started in the herb garden.”

Alexius broke into a sprint. The champions he invited into his home were those he most trusted, but they were all volatile men trained to kill with little or no provocation. Too conscious of the potential damage to his men and property to wonder at the quiet, he pushed open the door and met with silence.

His gaze swept over the garden for as far as the circle of torchlight allowed him to see.

Nothing but the breeze rustling the lemon trees.

Velus caught up with him, his chest pumping like bellows. He scanned the quiet scene. His round face crimped with confusion. “I don’t understand. Moments ago, I heard a full-blown war out here.”

“Where’s Livia?” he asked, his instincts warning him to be suspicious of the whole scene.

“I’m here.”

He spun around to see Livia framed in the doorway. Her flowing white
stola
was torn at the neck, revealing a transparent tunic beneath. The expression of fear she wore called for concern.

Alexius moved toward her, careful not to push her into a round of hysterics. “Tell me what happened.”

Tears welled in her large green eyes. “I came out here for some air. One of your men attacked me.”

“Who?” asked Alexius.

“The darkness… I didn’t see the beast’s face. Gavius heard me scream and came to my rescue. A fight broke out…”

Livia began to cry in earnest. She fled the door and threw herself against Alexius’s chest. He looked to Velus, but the steward shrugged, offering no assistance.

“Quiz Gavius. Find out what happened and if he knows the assailant,” he barked, patting Livia’s back. Her arms were locked around his waist. He doubted that a summer storm possessed the strength to break her grip.

“Thank you,” she offered in a husky whisper once Velus left. Her green eyes were huge, damp pools of distress. Rivulets of black kohl marred her pale, painted cheeks. “I was so frightened, Alexius! But
you
make me feel safe. Please don’t push me away. Just this once. Not tonight.”

“I’ll have Velus make arrangements to see you home.”

“No, I need
you
. I need you
so
much.” She reached up and kissed him.

Stunned by the cold ambivalence that spread through him like a glacial stream, Alexius ripped his lips from hers and glared down at her with loathing. The game she played was suddenly clear. He wondered if she’d paid Gavius to help carry out her scheme.

Aware of his own strength, he grasped her viselike arms and dislodged her with gentle but unyielding force. “That was a mistake, mistress. Don’t repeat it or
I’ll forget my mother’s instructions not to ever hurt a woman.”

Taking her by the wrist, he led her from the garden. The music and mayhem of the party grew louder in the corridor. Fed up to the back teeth with the last several hours, Alexius shouted for Velus, but his steward was nowhere to be found.

“Fetch your slave and call for your litter,” he growled at Livia. “Consider your welcome here at an end.”

He left her at the edge of the garden and made quick work of killing the music. Amid the gripes and protests of the fete’s premature conclusion, he ordered his men back to their barracks and sent his other guests on their way.

As the garden emptied, Velus finally reappeared. “Where have you been?” Alexius snapped.

“I was looking for Gavius as you ordered.”

“Did you find him?”

Velus nodded. “He didn’t recognize the brute as one of our men. I suspect Livia ensnared her own slave to help with her dirty tricks.”

Anger boiled inside Alexius. Sword practice couldn’t come early enough. “I’m going to my quarters. Don’t interrupt me unless the house catches fire.”

He turned on his heel, grateful for the end of the most vexing night he’d endured in ages. Livia’s mischief making galled him and Cassandra’s attempted seduction was no compliment. He was no slab of meat to be fought over by a pack of bored, rich hyenas. Nor was he a puppet who danced when someone else pulled his strings.

In his chamber, he blew out the oil lamp on the table and crawled into his bed. As he stared into the darkness, he willed back the angry monster thrashing inside
him. The night had given him a new perspective on his life and he didn’t like the view. For the first time, he realized he’d been slowly killing himself in ways more dangerous than the risks he took in the Coliseum.

A decade before, he’d been a young man with a hopeful future. His wants had been simple but nourishing to his soul. He’d worked his own land and begun building his own home. Dreams of finding the kind of deep, unconditional love he’d witnessed between his parents and basked in as a child spurred him forward.

But Fate had snapped her boney fingers and robbed him of all he held dear. Flung into the vile pit of the gladiator arena, he no longer thrived when nothing was certain—least of all survival.

Anger had taken root in his heart, growing more each day until there was little room for good in him. When Caros acquired him from his former master, he’d been wild, unpredictable, less than human.

Caros had shown him how to channel his fury into an unbeaten champion’s record. Only Caros had ever bested him and that was at the school and unofficial. As long as he had a place to fight when the anger became too much to manage, he was able to fool everyone with his jovial nature.

Now he saw just how much his life of violence had cost him. The constant threat of kill or be killed had taken its toll. Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped believing he deserved any peace at all. In self-inflicted punishment, he’d traded the satisfaction he gleaned from working the soil for meaningless entertainments that left him a little emptier after each game of chance or wild party. Just as bad, he’d settled for condescending women when his parents’ example had taught him to search for true companionship and love.

He rolled onto his back and folded his arms beneath his head. Somehow he’d accepted the notion that he was as low as his profession. Without realizing that he’d done so, he’d forfeited the self-respect his upbringing had taught him. He’d believed the lie that he needed other people’s approval. No wonder men like Senator Basilius believed his integrity was for sale to the highest bidder and stone-hearted women like Cassandra believed he ought to be grateful for their favor.

His eyes closed. He conjured up an image of Tibi’s lovely face. For just a moment he indulged in the impossibility of having her as his wife, of sharing idyllic days with her on his farm in Umbria. How she’d managed to worm her way through the defenses that kept other women from accessing his heart he didn’t know, but she made him want to change, to leave Rome behind and embrace the simpler life he truly wanted.

Tibi’s willingness to trust him had revived him and his self-worth. For that, he owed her much. More than he could hope to repay. If not for Tibi’s influence, he might have taken Cassandra back or allowed the widows or their like to use him to bolster their own vanity. To do so would have been to fall back into bad habits, something expected given his degraded station in life. But Tibi wanted nothing from him but friendship. Her regard gave him the confidence he needed to think more highly of himself.

He cast off the bedcovers and began to pace in the dark. Weighed down by regrets, he longed to be the younger man he’d been, but the past was gone. How could he fix the damage an ill-lived life had wrought? He wanted better for the time he had yet to live. Without knowing where the desperation had come from, he was suddenly starving for the reassurance and joy his
friends Caros and Quintus possessed. They assured him that their God would give him what he needed if he believed in Him, but what about the rage twisting in his gut?