The Gladiator's Mistress (Champions of Rome) (18 page)

Chapter 31

Phaedra

After visiting Fortunada’s house, Phaedra knew that living in dignified poverty would not suit her. Since the law forbade either she or her father from adopting a trade, she needed to marry in order to maintain a comfortable life. As an eligible patrician woman, she was certain that another man besides Acestes would want to marry her at some point. Yet if she married for financial security, then the groom mattered little, and Acestes served as well as anyone else. While all this was true, she also knew that after having spent the night with Valens, any other union would feel hollow.

The litter stopped in front of her father’s villa. A guard held the door open. Phaedra entered and found the steward waiting in the atrium.

“Begging your pardon, my lady. Your father wishes that I inform you of his absence.”

“Thank you.” At least Phaedra did not have to face her father and his questions about Damian right now.

“I must also inform you that General Acestes waits for you in the garden.”

Her father being gone when Acestes happened to stop by was a trap, meant to get her alone with the general. Phaedra saw no way to escape. “Bring some wine and water,” she called over her shoulder as she walked toward the garden.

The villa’s walls threw long shadows over the garden. Acestes stood under a tree, his broad back to Phaedra. He wore a dark blue tunic with a silver toga of silk draped over his shoulder and wrapped around his arm. She noted that he had donned a fine outfit for a casual visit. Perhaps he had just come from an important meeting or he planned to dine somewhere else later.

In a flash of memory not yet lived, she saw her future with him—the entertainment and parties they attended together as living testament to the glory of Rome, their children, although loved, a perpetuation of their parents and a way of life. Yes, she saw it all as clearly as she saw the garden. Yet it lacked the vibrancy and color she craved, the passion and reason for living she needed. She sighed. Her resignation toward it all crushed her spirit. Acestes turned and smiled. She wanted—prayed to her mother—to be warmed by his face and his happiness. Her prayers went unanswered and her soul remained bare.

If she had learned anything in her first marriage, it was that her happiness depended more upon herself than her spouse. It was a lesson she could put to use with Acestes, could she not?

“There you are,” Acestes said. His smile remained and Phaedra felt a twinge of an unnamed emotion. She decided it must be guilt for not returning his affections.

“I called upon my friend Fortunada,” she said, “and have just returned.”

Acestes crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “It is a pity about her brother’s troubles with the quartermaster. I am glad that Damian saw the advantage in joining the legions.”

“I am sure he also saw the advantage in not dying in the arena.”

Acestes chuckled. “There is that, too.”

“My father wants to know why Damian left.”

“I spoke to him already and gave him all the details. He went to the forum soon after to share what he knew. I agreed to stay here and make sure you arrived home safely.”

“What you mean is that you gave my father information so he agreed to let you spend time alone with me.”

He laughed. “I like your spirited nature.”

“Well, at least I will not need to betray Fortunada for my father’s sake. I suppose this worked well for all of us.”

“There is something I wish to discuss with you. It is about the gladiatorial games I am sponsoring.” Acestes gestured to a bench.

Phaedra sat and smoothed her skirts over her legs, hoping that her casual gesture hid her frayed nerves. “Aside from the news about Damian, I learned that you have convinced Valens Secundus to return to the arena.”

Her heartbeat thrummed, the pulse echoing in the base of her throat. Did Acestes notice? She should not have mentioned Valens, yet she could not help herself. She wanted to speak his name, to know everything about him. For Phaedra, Valens was the soft breeze that blew through the garden, the cooling cloud that crossed the sun, and the blood that flowed in her veins.

“News travels fast in Rome,” Acestes said. “Soon everyone in the republic will know that I am bringing Rome’s champion back to the arena. And if he falls, then I can still execute his sister. What a drama that would be.”

“You have her in custody?”

Acestes stretched out his hand and examined his fingernails. “I had to leave her at her home,” he said. “It was part of the bargain.”

“Is it not possible that the gladiator will move his sister out of the city before the games? Then, even if he falls in combat, your plan will not work.” Although Acestes’s failure would come at too high a price, she hoped that somehow his scheme unraveled.

“I have thought of that,” Acestes said, “and have stationed two legionnaires in plain clothes near the Secundus villa. If she leaves, they are to follow. If she tries to exit the city gates, they are to bring her to me.”

Like a golden coin, Phaedra held on to Acestes’s plan. She full well knew its value and that soon it might be needed by Valens. “Is that what you came to tell me?” she asked, hoping to sound bored and disdainful. “That you have soldiers spying on little girls?”

Acestes laughed. “You are far too determined to make me fight to win your affections. But no, that is not what I came to talk to you about.” He stood and held out his hand. “Walk with me.”

Phaedra placed her fingertips in his palm and allowed him to help her up. They walked without talking. She heard the sound of splashing water a moment before the fountain came into her field of vision. Did Acestes guess he led them to the same place where she had first met Valens? Likely not. She started to relax into the recollection of meeting the gladiator on her wedding night. She let the memory of Valens’s lovemaking the night before wash over her in the cool droplets of fountain water caught in the wind.

“This is an important place, is it not?” Acestes said.

Phaedra loathed the notion that this almost sacred spot in her life held any meaning for Acestes. “I do not see how my father’s garden could hold any importance to you.”

Acestes gripped his chest as if it pained him. “You wound me,” he said, even though Phaedra knew she did not. “I came looking for you on your wedding night. I found you here. I wanted to tell you then that you enchanted me, but my words came out wrong.”

He closed his eyes and turned his face to the fountain. The sun shone behind the water, creating sparkling jewels of the spray. Even with his handsome face and his obvious attraction to Phaedra, she knew that she could never love this man. Acestes was like a highly polished silver disk that seemed bright, but in truth only reflected the light. Life would be easier if she could find some way to care, but she knew she could not.

“Can I ask you a question about the night you wed my uncle?”

Phaedra did not answer. She knew that Acestes would ask his question without permission.

“I found you with the gladiator, Valens Secundus,” he said. “In the moment I felt as if I had interrupted something. Was he your lover then?”

“No,” said Phaedra. She did not add,
not then
.

“I thought he might be. That was one of the reasons I offered to get you with child.” He paused. “It matters little what I thought then, although there seemed to be something between the two of you.”

Phaedra considered lying, telling Acestes that he had mistaken it all. Yet, she found that she could not completely deny Valens and decided that a certain version of the truth might be told instead. “Marriage to your uncle overwhelmed me at first, especially at the wedding. The gladiator came upon me as I was getting my bearings. I felt I should be polite. Besides, Valens Secundus is a handsome man. I know ladies are not supposed to notice if men are attractive or not, but he is pleasing to look upon. I asked him if he had fought at a wedding before.”

She stopped speaking, knowing that her manners and mood could give away her deep regret. Oh, what a long and lonely life she would lead with Acestes. His keen eyes saw everything, and to protect her secrets she would need to live inside herself.

“You swear to me that the gladiator means nothing to you.”

She must lie to Acestes. But what twitching eyelid or fidgeting finger would tell Acestes the truth? And if he knew, what then? He might take back his offer of marriage. Or he might marry her still and be a cruel husband. Worst of all, he could accuse her of betraying Marcus in adultery. While affairs for men were an expected part of life, married women who took lovers were often executed in the arena.

Hoping that Acestes would be satisfied with an indirect answer, Phaedra responded carefully. “I was as much a virgin on the night I married Marcus as the day I was born.”

“And I imagine you were in the same virginal state in the morning as well.”

“You warned me of your uncle’s cool ardor, albeit a day too late.”

Acestes laughed. Phaedra allowed a small smile. The whole situation had been so complicated it bordered on the absurd.

“Tomorrow evening there will be a party at my villa to celebrate the games that will begin the following day,” said Acestes. He was moving on to another topic, and Phaedra breathed an internal sigh of relief. “Some important men from the Senate will be in attendance—your father, for one. I would have you attend as well. I would also like for you to greet guests with me as they arrive.”

If she were seen helping Acestes greet his guests, all of Rome would view them as a couple. This was why her father had given them time alone, Phaedra knew. If she agreed to be his hostess, then she surrendered to their plans for her.

He continued to talk, speaking of who would attend the event—knights of the republic, magistrates, other senators and patricians, the gladiators who would fight. Valens. Valens might attend the party. No, he must. He was the Champion of Rome returning to the arena for the first time in two years.

Valens.

Yes, she would see him again and tell him everything she had meant to say during their one night together. She loved him now and would love him always. It mattered not that he had been a slave or poor or born fatherless in a society that worshipped patriarchs.

She wanted to tell Valens what he meant to her. During their night together, she had allowed pride to keep her silent. Tomorrow night might be her single chance to right that wrong. She knew that meeting with Valens in Acestes’s villa without arousing suspicion would be tricky, if not dangerous. Yet Phaedra saw no other options.

“Say you will attend the banquet,” Acestes said.

“Yes,” said Phaedra. “There is no place I would rather be.”

Chapter 32

Valens

The sun slipped below the horizon on Valens’s final day of training.

Sore of body and weary of mind, Valens placed his wooden sword on a rack with the practice weaponry. Most of the shelves were filled with more wooden swords. Spears with the tips blunted and tridents with their prongs wrapped in fabric also stood close at hand.

Earlier in the day a slave had fitted him with a gladiator’s kit. Leather greaves covered his legs and a small, round shield had been strapped to his left forearm. A leather and brass manica protected him from fingertips to shoulder. The last piece of his kit, his helmet, had a metal mesh that hung over his face. It was the same type of outfit he had worn during his career. But the sword itself was the same exact one he had wielded on his way to numerous victories.

Paullus had kept Valens’s sword as a memento. At first it seemed a sentimental gesture. But holding the well-used weapon rekindled Valens’s sense of invincibility, like an echo from another life.

His gear, along with that of every other gladiator scheduled to fight the next day, was locked up in the armory. In the morning a slave would come to his cell and help him get ready. Tonight he wanted to rest. He walked with the rest of the gladiators filing through the door that led from the practice field to the barracks.

Baro clapped Valens on the shoulder. “Are you ready to attend the banquet celebrating the beginning of the games?”

“I am not going.”

“Not going? You have to. We all have to.”

Valens shook off Baro’s hand. “I am no slave, and I will be damned before Paullus orders me to go anywhere.”

“Who pissed in your porridge this morning?”

“Jupiter himself.”

Baro snorted.

“I am tired. I am sore. Baro, I worry about tomorrow. The Fates can only watch me win so often before getting bored.”

“Not just the Fates. Everyone had gotten bored watching you win.”

This time Valens let go a real laugh. “I am no good for a party. The patricians will miss their chance to meet the former Champion of Rome and be forced to meet her current one.” Valens flexed his biceps, trying for a Herculean pose. His arm cramped at once. “If I survive this, Antonice will never want for anything.”

“It is not your fault. What your sister did, she did. Not you.”

“I should have done more for Antonice, or at least tried to get her away from the Suburra earlier. You should have seen all the men who were in and out of my mother’s apartment.” Valens shook his head. “In a way I think my sister’s always been lost. Have you heard from your aunt?”

“Not in the two hours since you asked last.” Baro slapped Valens on the shoulder. “Soak in the hot bath. Have a slave rub your sore muscles and come to the party. A night of good food and better company is what you need. If you do not show yourself, then the bastard General Acestes will think that you are sore and tired and whiny.”

“I
am
sore and tired and whiny.”

Baro laughed. Valens had not meant it as a joke.

“Here is something you might find interesting,” said Baro. “The funeral games in which we fight honor his uncle, Marcus Rullus.”

“I know. Everyone knows.”

“The first time we fought each other was at Senator Rullus’s wedding. Do you remember that, too?”

Valens nodded. He could not trust himself to speak. Despite all the honesty between them, he found it hard to confess his love for the late senator’s wife to his friend. He wanted to give voice to his anger and sadness that he and Phaedra would never be together, but Valens could not find those words, either.

“Interesting how it all circles around. Like a snake eating its tail.” Baro drew a circle in the air.

“Do you think she will be there, the bride?”

“You mean the widow? I assume so. I heard she plans to marry her dead husband’s nephew, General Acestes. Keep all the money in the family.”

The news hit Valens like a fist to the solar plexus. Phaedra had said her father wanted her to marry again, that he had already selected the next husband. She had never said whom he had chosen. She had never told him that she planned to marry the same bastard who had ruined his life by threatening his sister and forcing Valens to fight in the arena once again.

But then, he had never told her that he planned to fight again at all.

Did she hate him for keeping his counsel? Did he hate
her
for keeping hers?

A guard unlocked the door to the barracks and stood aside as the gladiators filed through. Valens followed Baro down the corridor and toward the baths.

“When do you fight?” Valens asked.

“I have the primus on the second-to-the-last day unless the schedule changes.”

“You mean unless I am dead by then, which means you fight on the final day.”

Still shuffling along the corridor, not even bothering to turn around, Baro lifted one shoulder and let it drop. Of course Paullus needed a plan if Valens could not do the impossible and win all three matches. Everyone understood the business of it all. Still, knowing his friends discussed his demise in terms of scheduling galled. If Valens had not been so sore, he would have punched Baro.

Valens went through the process of bathing while focusing on victory and honor, discarding the distractions of fear and doubt—and Phaedra. Why did she always come to mind? In truth, Valens knew that she never left his thoughts.

He decided to attend the party, if only to see Phaedra. He knew not what to expect from their encounter. Her forgiveness? An apology? Another night in her arms? Perhaps he wanted all of that, but what he wanted most of all was to see her one last time.