The Gladiator's Mistress (Champions of Rome) (21 page)

Chapter 35

Valens

Valens woke before dawn, bathed, broke his fast, and returned to his cell, waiting to be summoned. His form would not improve with a frantic hour of training. With two hours until his fight, he went to the armory. Slaves tied leather greaves over his thighs, a metal band to one wrist, and a leather manica to the other arm. They also fitted him into his leather skirt and bronze breastplate. Aside from the slaves and Valens, Paullus and Baro also took up space in the cramped room.

“Your opponent today is new,” said Paullus. “He had some success in Capua. People think since he hails from the birthplace of gladiatorial games, he is somehow blessed.”

“I do not want to hear any more,” said Valens.

This went against his long-held rule to know everything he could about an opponent before stepping into the arena. Yet he could not view the other gladiator as anything other than an obstacle, just the first task of three.

Paullus and Baro moved to the corner as slaves finished fitting Valens into his kit. No one spoke. The silence provided time for his thoughts to wander. Valens decided to try Baro’s trick of thinking about the outcome he wanted. In his mind’s eye, he entered the arena and pictured his opponent not as the new gladiator from Capua, but rather a tree. Yes, he much preferred to fight a tree made of bark and wood and sap, not a man of blood and bone and flesh.
The loss of one tree is much the same as the loss of another.

With less than one hour until the match, Paullus, Baro, and a contingent of six guards led Valens to the Forum Boarium, now free of cattle. Wooden stands circled the stone wall. A large dais stood up at one end of the arena. Even the width of the market away, Valens saw the bright canvas awning stretched tight over the platform providing shade for Acestes, the sponsor of the games, and his guests. Phaedra would be one of those guests.

A crowd had gathered to watch Valens; they screamed and cheered as he passed. Their faces were just as one continual blur, and their words nothing more than a distant rumble. Valens’s pulse rose and his palms grew damp with sweat.

Focus.

Fight.

He waited in a stall meant to hold more expensive cattle before auctions. Even though someone had swept the floor clean and put out a stool and a jug of water in a corner, the place still held the grassy smell of cow dung. Valens sat on the stool and shook his head when Paullus held out the jug of water.

Focus.

His mind went black. He saw nothing. He heard nothing.

Paullus touched his arm. Valens stood and followed the white-haired lanista toward a door leading to the arena. Sun slanted over the sponsor’s dais, surrounding it with a halo of brilliant white light. Like a lovesick fool, Valens searched for her—one face among many. He squinted under his helmet and tried to make out faces or figures. He saw nothing beyond the shadow of a whole. He turned away, needing to block out everyone but his opponent, his obstacle.

The game’s editor, the man responsible for making sure all the rules of conduct were obeyed, moved to the center of the sand. He motioned for both of the gladiators to approach. The other gladiator entered through a door on the opposite side of the arena.

A short man with wide shoulders and black hair that fell down to the middle of his back walked toward Valens. The helmet covered his entire face, having only two holes for eyes. The back of the helmet fanned out, protecting his neck. He wore a leather cuff on each arm, covering from wrist to elbow. He carried two things with him—one hand held a net, and the other a long trident.
Could it get any worse?
Valens wondered.

Both gladiators stood next to the editor as he explained the rules, which were few in a fight such as this. He drew back the baton held between the gladiators as a signal for the contest to begin.

Valens lifted his sword, which suddenly seemed much too heavy and clumsy. The other gladiator moved much more swiftly than Valens had expected and struck Valens’s shield with the wooden end of his trident. Valens felt the impact all the way to his shoulder and staggered backward. The crowd booed. The other gladiator struck again and again, sending Valens off-balance. He tried to counter the attack and to guess at his opponent’s next move, yet his impulse was to back away in order to remain alive.

Light glinted off the wide visor of the other gladiator’s helmet. Through its eyeholes Valens could see the wide-eyed look of unadulterated glee that came with certain and easy victory.

The other gladiator came in from the right. Valens shifted to counter the movement as the other gladiator spun the trident. Three sharp tines shone. His opponent moved left as Valens stepped right. With a stab the trident pieced Valens’s shoulder. For half a second, the sounds, sights, and smells of the arena became clear and vibrant: the screaming crowd and the hollow noise of feet stomping on the wooden seats, the colorful awning of the sponsor’s box, the dim and dirty tunics of the spectators, the smells of sweat and filth, and the acrid stench of bloodlust.

He saw red as pain rushed from his shoulder to his fingers and echoed back, traveling up his neck. He saw Antonice as a child, her long hair streaming behind her as she raced across a crowded street to greet him. He saw her again as a young woman, laughing in the garden with their housekeeper, Leto, while both women tended the flower beds. Next, he saw his sister being dragged through the same door of the Forum Boarium that Valens had used, tears staining her dirt-covered face. Then he watched as rough slaves tied her to the back of a thick, black bull. His mind could take no more, and his thoughts turned. He saw Phaedra at the door of a villa, a smile of welcome on her lips.

Focus.

Fight.

Valens’s world shrank again until he alone existed. If he was in pain, he knew it not. With his sword he meant to rule the heavens and the earth. He swung out once. His sword grazed his opponent’s leather arm cuff. Then Valens lowered his attack. His first strike hit the thigh; the second, the knee. The gladiator tumbled to the ground, and Valens drove his sword through the other man’s heart.

The editor grasped Valens by the arm, lifting it high.

“Valens Secundus, winner and once again Champion of Rome.”

Cheers deafened him. Silver coins rained down from the stands. Women threw roses and tore their gowns, vowing to love him forever. Men wept. Valens turned to Acestes’s seats in order to receive the customary praise from the sponsor.

The general moved to the edge of his platform and held his arms up for silence. The crowd ignored him for a moment, but soon even they grew tired of the antics.

“Valens Secundus, you honor us with this great victory,” he said.

“I fight to honor your uncle, a great man.”

As Valens spoke, saying the words the crowd expected to hear, Acestes looked to his back and extended his arm. When the general faced forward again, he held Phaedra by the waist. His hand rested in the exact place Valens had gripped when they had made love the night before in the garden.

“My uncle’s widow thanks you for the honor as well,” Acestes said. He emphasized the word
my
.

Valens clenched his sword, ready to strike.

His gaze held Phaedra’s for one moment. He read nothing in her eyes that said,
Come to me
or
Good-bye
, or
I love you
.

Then she winked.

Yes
, her wink said,
I am yours. Even standing next to this man, I belong to you.

Yes
, her wink said,
we share secrets. We share a history.

Yes
, her wink said,
we have a future together, you and I. Come to me so we can begin our lives.

In a crowd of thousands, Valens alone knew that she had said anything at all.

He was Valens Secundus, invincible and unstoppable, and champion of the known world. He was loved by a beautiful woman, and no one would keep them apart.

Like a man possessed, he stood in the middle of the arena and laughed.

Chapter 36

Phaedra

Phaedra had spent the afternoon at the games in the sponsor’s box with her father, Acestes, and the rest of Rome’s elite. The box consisted of a wooden floor covered with lush carpets. A half wall surrounded the entirety, creating more of a visual barrier than an actual one. An awning had been stretched overhead to block out the sun’s rays. Sofas and chairs had been brought in for the comfort of those in attendance. Slaves served food and wine all the time, yet Phaedra had eaten little, so concerned had she been for Valens.

Her pulse had not slowed since he had entered the arena. At first, his fighting looked weak. The thought of Valens dying terrified her, and to keep her emotions hidden, she had bitten the inside of her lip until she broke the skin and blood filled her mouth. Then something indescribable changed—Valens had become the embodiment of Mars on earth. She, and everyone else, had seen the transformation.

At the end of the day, Acestes had offered the use of his newest silver litter to take her home. Once at her father’s villa, a profound weariness enveloped her, seeping all the way to her bones.

“Tell Father the excitement of the games left me fatigued. I will miss dinner,” she said to Terenita.

“Shall I bring a tray to your room, my lady?”

“In a few hours,” said Phaedra. “First I need to rest.”

She undressed and slid under the cool sheets without first donning either a sleeping gown or robe. She did not even recall closing her eyes before falling into a deep and bottomless sleep.

Phaedra woke in a darkened world. She sat up, clutching the covers over her bare breasts. Her pulse hammered and she held her breath. She looked into the darkness and listened for something—she knew not what.

On the table near her bed, a silver tray reflected scant moonlight. She saw the outline of a pitcher, a cup, and a plate filled with bread and fruit. Other than the food, her room looked just as it had when she had first lain down.

She listened to the silence. Something had awakened her. A movement, perhaps. No, a voice, she decided. Had it all been a dream?

In the corner, a shadow shifted.

“Hello,” she said into the darkness. Instinctively her chest tightened as she made ready to scream and alert the guards.

“Apologies if I frightened you.” Valens had come to her. He stepped from the shadows. Light and dark played across his body as if he were a carefully lighted marble statute.

“How did you get into the villa?”

“I came earlier, but your maid would not let me in. She told me you slept and to come back later. I did. Still, you slept. She said later, so I waited. This time she let me in because she thought maybe I could wake you.”

“She could have roused me herself.”

“She tried, as did your father. They both feared you had fallen ill.”

“Does he know you are here?” She did hate that she had become a daughter once again. Being treated as a child and ordered about angered her.

“No, just your maid. She cares for you, you know.”

“Terenita is a good woman.”

“But she does not like me,” said Valens. “She thinks I will ruin your chances with Acestes.”

“She is right. If Acestes knew about our time together, he would make us both pay.” She sat up. The covers slid from her body, revealing her nakedness. Valens drew in a sharp breath, and Phaedra smiled to herself.
So, this is what it is to be desired.

“There is nothing more important in my life than you,” Valens said as he stepped toward her.

“I do not worry for myself, and yet I fear for you. Acestes is a powerful man and more influential than I care to think,” said Phaedra. “As a patrician, with an army of his own, he could arrange awful things. He might even pit you against two gladiators at once.”

“You do not follow the games at all, do you?” The corner of Valens’s lip curled into a wry smile. “I am undefeated. In Capua, I faced four opponents during a single fight.”

“And you won?”

“Yes, that is what undefeated means.”

Phaedra gave a small laugh. “Fighting four men at once sounds impressive.”

“Not really. One was blind and two were already dead.”

Phaedra laughed. “And the final man?”

“It was a goat that held the sword in his teeth. I knew I had won when he ate the leather grip and could not keep hold any longer.”

“My, you are brave to fight two corpses, a blind man, and a goat all in one day.”

“You laugh, but the dead put up more of a fight than you imagine.”

Phaedra filled a goblet with wine and took a long drink. She settled back on the bed, not bothering to cover her nakedness. Valens moved closer. The darkness stole all the color, but his features were visible. Phaedra focused on his mouth. The remembered feeling of his mouth on her nipples came with such clarity that she almost moaned aloud.

Valens trailed his fingers from her ankle to her knee. The breath caught in her chest.

Yes. Touch me. Taste me. Feel me. Make me yours.

“As soon as I won,” said Valens, “I wanted you. The power from the arena is intoxicating. I have never quite found the words for how it feels to prevail or command over death. It always leaves me more alive, and at the same time, less.” His fingertips trailed from her knee to her thigh. Phaedra let her legs relax to reveal her sex. Valens moved his gaze to stare at her. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He slid his fingers higher until they traced the curling hair at the juncture between her legs. “I want to lose myself inside you, Phaedra. Not just now, but always.”

She knelt at the edge of the mattress. Drawing Valens to her, she kissed him. His hard length pressed against her, and she stroked him through the coarse fabric of his tunic.

“Tell me how to please you,” she said.

“Touch me. Take me in your hand and in your mouth.”

Every time she had lain with Marcus, Phaedra had needed to take him in hand and in her mouth in order to awaken his passions. How different to see Valens already aroused. She felt beautiful, and not just an insignificant piece in the game of Roman politics. Together, they wrestled Valens from his tunic.

He pulled her to him, their lips pressed together and their tongues joined. Phaedra reached for his shaft and moved her hand over the silky skin. She traced the enlarged head with a featherlight touch. Valens groaned and she, too, felt the power that came with control over another’s sensations.

“Lie back,” she said as she pushed him to her bed.

She took Valens in her mouth. Sucking gently, her kisses slid back and forth. Valens combed his fingers through her hair, entangling his fists in the ends.

“By all the gods, you have enchanted me,” he said.

Phaedra took him in deeper and faster this time.

He pulled on her hair. The pain aroused her more. “Slow down,” he said. “I want to enjoy the feel of being in your mouth. Better yet, swing your bottom up here.”

Had she heard Valens correctly? He would, while she did? Was it possible? Of course it was possible, and tonight she was prepared to try. She swirled her tongue around his swollen head once more and moved as he instructed. Valens kissed the top of her sex, sucking and tasting much as she did to him. He slid one finger inside her moist opening and then another. Her muscles tightened as he kissed her and moved his fingers back and forth. Her first climax came with such force that Phaedra buried her face in the side of Valens’s leg, lest her cries of pleasure wake her father, the guards, and everyone else in Rome. Running her tongue along the side of his shaft, she panted. Jupiter and Saturn help her, she loved this man and no other. She could no longer imagine her life without Valens.

The thought left her spent and her body relaxed as she continued to lie atop Valens.

“Come here,” he said.

She moved to him. His kisses tasted of her pleasure.

“I love you,” she said. Her words felt sad and empty. She would never measure their time together in month or years, rather in the few hours or minutes they could steal.

“I love you, too,” said Valens, shifting on top of her.

Phaedra wrapped her legs around his waist and he entered her in one stroke. Fitting perfectly, they moved together. Valens lifted up and shifted his shoulders under her legs. She gasped as he moved deeper inside of her, deeper still, as if he could not enter her enough.

Valens and no other.

His pace increased. She clung to his shoulder and touched a piece of cloth she had not noticed before. He had been hurt during the fight, she recalled. She ran her fingers over the bandage’s edge and prayed he healed without incident. Yet his injury could not be that bad if he were here now, making hard and passionate love to her.

Valens reared his head back and groaned as his seed spilled inside of her. She untangled her legs and they curled next to each other, her back to his chest.

Hot tears stung her eyes and she stifled a sob. The cruel Fates continually brought Valens and her together and yet forever kept them apart.

“What is the matter?” Valens propped himself on an elbow and looked down at Phaedra.

She wiped a hand across her eyes. “Nothing is the matter.”

“Did I hurt you? I always try to be gentle. I find with you I lose control.”

She always wanted his loss of control. “I am fine,” she said. “In fact, I am much better than fine. This”—she gestured between the two of them—“seems such a waste. I hate the laws that keep us apart. I wish you had a million sesterces so my father could stay in the Senate.”

“A million? You know nothing about the games. I am a wealthy man, Phaedra, with more than two million sesterces to my name.”

“Really?” She sat up so fast her head swam, and then she remembered that she had eaten nothing since noontime. But hunger and dizziness faded as what Valens said settled on Phaedra. “With half a million sesterces, you can enter the equestrian rank. Then the Senate could allow us to marry.”

Valens lay back down and pulled her with him. He lifted her hair and kissed the nape of her neck. “I once thought of becoming an equestrian.”

“You did not, though—why?”

“There are three things a man needs to become an equestrian. First is money. I have the money. Second is a senator willing to put his name—my name—forth. No one wants to champion a gladiator. Even if I convinced a senator to present my nomination, how many other senators would vote for a former slave to become a member of their society?”

“Not many,” said Phaedra. “Perhaps none. You need someone very influential.”

“Aside from an influential senator, I need one other thing that I will always lack. A father.”

Phaedra hated to think of Valens being anything other than well pleased with life. Perhaps she could coax him out of his melancholy. She reached up and stroked his face. “You have a father,” she said. “Everyone has a father. I thought you understood how all that worked. If not, I can show you again.”

Valens kissed her shoulder and Phaedra snuggled deeper into his embrace. “Of course a man lay with my mother and made me. I know not who. I doubt she knew which man, either. Besides, my mother died, so we will never know.”

“There has to be a way for us to be together. I feel like the Fates want us to try harder. Then they will reward us,” said Phaedra.

“Or flatten us like flies.”

“Either one is preferable to being apart.” Phaedra’s stomach rumbled. Hiding her embarrassment, and before Valens could notice the unladylike sound, she sat up and grabbed a piece of bread and a slice of soft cheese. The heavy oats in the bread complemented the tang of the cheese.

She held out the tray to Valens. “Would you like something to eat?”

Her stomach rumbled again.

“No, I am not hungry. But you are.”

“You were injured today. You need your strength to heal.”

He reached for his shoulder. “It bled quite a bit, but the trainer patched me up.”

She kissed the hand that Valens used to hold his shoulder. “Better?”

“Completely,” he said. “Now eat.”

“Just one more slice of bread and a little cheese.” She followed that slice with two more. Then she ate all the fruit. She washed it down with two cups of wine and lay back, finally sated.

“I love a woman with a hearty appetite.”

“I slept through dinner.”

“I know. I should tell your maid that you are alive and well.”

“She knows already. Terenita stays close by.” Phaedra sighed and folded deeper into Valens’s embrace. Her mind wandered and she envisioned climbing a mountain to do battle with the Fates. Her only weapons were an influential senator and a man claiming to be Valens’s father. She set them both before a trio of disfigured women who shared one eye, in the hopes that they would come up with a solution.

But Phaedra suddenly realized what was needed without the help of the Fates.

“My father and Paullus,” she said as she sat up.

Valens rolled onto his back and flopped his arm over his eyes. “Yes. What about them?”

“They are the answer. They can help us stay together. There is no other senator people like more than my father. And if Paullus claimed you as his son, you could become an equestrian and we could marry.”