The Gladiator's Mistress (Champions of Rome) (29 page)

Chapter 50

Phaedra

For the love of the gods, Acestes was a monster. Under his perfectly sculpted chest beat a rotten heart.

She could not let Valens take his own life. Hers was over. Yesterday she had thought that an unhappy marriage was the worst possible fate. But now she understood that if she lived, Acestes could, and would, do much worse to her than force her into a marriage she did not want.

She lifted Valens’s palm to her lips and kissed it. Her testament to their love was to give Valens life. His testament must then be to give her a quick and painless death. She knelt before him as she had seen other defeated gladiators do. She looked down, exposing the back of her neck.

From the sponsor’s box came a single scream—“No!”

Terenita stood at the edge, a golden pitcher clenched to her belly. Her hand trembled and water soaked her dun-colored tunic. At least her maid had not been harmed. With Phaedra’s death, neither Terenita nor her pain could be used as bargaining chip.

The crowd began to cheer again, so thirsty for blood and drama that they cared not why it was spilled. Their yells took form and became a one-word chant: “Death.”

“Do your duty,” said Acestes. “Slay her.”

“If you want one of us dead, you will have to come into the arena and do it yourself.”

The crowd stopped calling for her blood and began a new chant: “Arena. Arena. Arena.”

“Do not be a fool. I am not getting into the arena,” said Acestes. “I am no gladiator. Nor am I a criminal.”

“But you are a coward. All of you are.” Valens pointed to the sponsor’s reserved seats. “You train men to fight and kill for your amusement. Never once do you do your own killing.”

The crowd booed and cried out that Acestes was a coward. Phaedra stood. Acestes had not thought through his plan very well. All of Rome loved Valens Secundus, and to use him poorly had earned the crowd’s ire. As much as Rome loved her champion, they loved a fight even more. Acestes’s refusal to take part in the combat was unforgivable.

Perhaps Acestes would not have made a very good politician after all.

“End all this now, Acestes,” she said. “Let us both go.”

“You must be mad if you think I will ever let you go. You toyed with me and let me think we would marry. All the while you were this gladiator’s lover. No, you will pay with your life today, or I will make sure you always pay.”

“I never loved you, Acestes. I never toyed with you, either. You asked me to marry you, yes. But I never gave you an answer. You presumed and saw what you wanted to see.”

Phaedra waited for an outburst from Acestes. When none came, she continued, “You know the charge of adultery is false. There is no law preventing a widow from having a lover. Beyond that, Valens and I planned to marry. That was why my father made him an equestrian, so I could take him as a husband.” She raised her voice so all could hear. “Please, Acestes, I beg of you. Let us both go.”

“Let them go. Let them go. Let them go,” the crowd chanted.

If she learned nothing else today, she learned that the fickle crowd at a gladiatorial game would repeat almost anything, so long as it could become a chant.

Valens squeezed her hand. She looked to where their fingers intertwined, and although his skin held a bronze hue and hers was white as milk, she could not tell at what point he ended and she began.

“Never,” said Acestes. Somehow this single word rose over the voices of thousands and silenced them all. “I will never let you go free.”

Knowing what she must do, Phaedra knelt again. The lack of panic she felt as her knees pressed into the sand surprised her, as did the clarity and calm that surrounded her. “Then I die today.”

“No.” Valens tried to pull her up by her arm. What would have been a simple thing for him to do if he were whole and strong now caused him to draw back reflexively in pain. Phaedra slipped easily from his grasp.

“I find it very touching that she sacrifices herself for you,” said Acestes. “Now kill her.”

Valens dropped his sword, and it landed on the ground with a thud next to Phaedra’s feet. “If you want her dead, you need to come down here and kill me first. I know you will not do that. You possess none of the Roman virtue of bravery in the face of adversity.”

“I am a general,” said Acestes. “I led troops in the Sicilian slave uprising. Few are as brave as I.”

“The slaves were farmers who wanted their land back. Soldiers who fight untrained men and women are not brave. They are cowards. And you are their cowardly leader,” said Valens.

“Coward. Coward. Coward. Coward.” The crowd found a chant they enjoyed, and their volume increased with each round until the ground shook.

“Enough!” cried Acestes. Phaedra could not hear his voice. It was lost in the continual chant, but she read it on his lips. He turned abruptly from his place at the railing and stalked to the back of the reserved box seats before disappearing down a set of stairs, which she knew led to the inside of the cattle market.

What might he do? He could order his guards into the arena to slaughter both her and Valens. That would be a decisive plan, a bold plan, but one that was destined to end Acestes’s political career for allowing others to fight his personal battles. Once Acestes understood that his life’s goal was virtually destroyed, then he would be very dangerous indeed.

As expected, a door to the arena opened. It was not a group of hired guards who streamed onto the sands with orders of vengeance. Rather, it was Acestes alone, armed with a sword. He wore a tunic of deep blue that shimmered in the light. A slight breeze caught his golden hair and ruffled the ends. The muscles in his arms, taut as ropes, flexed hard as he lifted the sword.

Finally, he had made a brilliant political move. The crowd went hoarse from cheering at the sight of him. It mattered little who Acestes slew today, for by stepping into the arena, he had made himself a hero. Phaedra loved Valens with every fiber of her being, but he was injured and his gladiator’s kit covered many more bandages then even the mob could see. He would not be able to defeat Acestes with ease, or maybe at all.

Chapter 51

Valens

The general had lost his mind. Valens realized that his goading had not only ignited the crowd, but had driven Acestes into the arena, crazed as a rabid goat and just as mean. Like all insane adversaries, he was dangerous. The worst part was that the crowd now loved him, too. Well, no, the worst part of all was that Valens could not fight worth a damn today.

“Pick up your sword and fight,” said Acestes. “You mislabeled me a coward. Who, other than the bravest of the brave, is willing to face the Champion of Rome?”

“I do not know,” Valens mused, playing for time as he tried to develop an unlikely stratagem to defeat Acestes. “The stupidest of the stupid.”

The crowd laughed.

“Enough. Get your sword.”

Valens’s sword lay on the ground near Phaedra’s knees. He truly could not bend over, and so he stretched out his fingers to elongate his reach. The crowd laughed at that, too. He reached out again, farther, knowing his awkward stance entertained. “It seems to be a little far today.” More laughter. “My love, can you help out?” More laughter still.

Phaedra looked up, wide-eyed.

“The sword, my love. Can you hand me my sword?”

She picked up the blade and stooped as she gave it to Valens. Perhaps she was playing to the crowd, too. Valens hobbled around, taking his time, exaggerating his movements, until he faced Acestes.

The crowd loved the antics and cheered even more.

Acestes did not.

He rushed toward Valens and kicked at Valens’s broken leg. A white flash shot through Valens’s vision, and then came the pain. The general slammed the pommel of his sword onto Valens’s injured shoulder. He fell to the ground, attempting to conceal the agony. As he tumbled, he prayed that Acestes would not take a perverse revenge on Phaedra and his sister.

So, this is it.
The ending of his life would be the greatest story ever told about Valens. Generations to come would describe the events of this day. Strangely, it was a small comfort to know that he would not fade into obscurity.

The crowd grew silent. Or maybe Valens was so focused on the final beats of his heart that he heard nothing else.

He might die today, but it was against his nature not to fight.

Action.

Focus.

The general lifted his sword, ready to strike. Valens rocked and reached to the left. Wait, wait. The glinting blade pierced the air as Valens rolled to the right. The tip of Acestes’s sword hit the dirt and sank halfway up the shaft. The general pulled his sword free amid booing from the crowd.

Valens considered his next move, but lying on the ground, injured, with no weapon at hand, he had none.

Acestes twirled the sword around his wrist. He lifted it high and roared. Valens tensed and waited for the death blow. It never came. The general staggered backward and walked in a drunken circle. Through a slit in the side of Acestes’s tunic, Valens saw blood, and flesh flayed from the muscle. Phaedra stood not far away. Valens’s sword drooped in her grasp.

Acestes touched his side. The sight of his blood-covered hand seemed to stun the general momentarily. Then he advanced on Phaedra, twirling his sword with each step. She stepped away from him, stumbling, and dropped the sword. She reached down to pick it up, but Acestes kicked it aside.

“You—how could you betray me? I have loved you long and well.” Even in the arena, where every word carried, Acestes spoke so quietly that Valens doubted anyone beyond the three of them heard what was said.

“You have never loved me,” Phaedra whispered back. “You want to possess me, to make me a prize like the emerald necklace.”

Valens crawled behind them to his sword. He used both hilt and crutch to regain his balance.

Focus.

“I meant to keep you safe because I love you,” Acestes said to Phaedra.

“You meant to keep me because you love yourself, and you cannot accept that anyone may feel differently.”

Valens lined up, ready to run Acestes through. He disliked killing a distracted man from behind, but he disliked dying much more.

“Behind you!” someone in the crowd yelled.

Acestes turned around.

Now that he faced Acestes, Valens seized the moment, ignored the pain, and, driving through the weakness in his leg, rushed forward and ran his sword into the general’s middle. He plunged deeper as hot blood spilled over his hand. Then he dragged the blade upward and pulled his sword free.

Acestes dropped to his knees and fell forward, dead.

Chapter 52

Phaedra

To Phaedra, the noise and the frantic motion in the stands might have only been the buzzing of busy bees. She saw nothing other than Valens, and heard nothing beyond his words. “I love you,” he repeated over and over. He stroked the hair away from her face. She untied his helmet and let it fall to the ground. He placed a light kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“I love you, too,” she said.

“Are we free?”

Acestes lay without moving. The editor of the games slapped him across the face. There was no response. A figure in a dark hood emerged from one of the doors. He was, she knew, a slave dressed as Charon, the ferryman, meant to take Acestes to the other world. She pressed her face into Valens’s shoulder as Charon produced a large hook meant to drag the body away. Once she looked again, both slave and general were gone. A bloody trail in the sand remained as a testament to Acestes’s time in the arena.

With the body gone, the editor approached Valens and lifted his hand. The crowd cheered. Phaedra looked into the box seats where she had sat as Acestes’s guest. Her people, the elite of Rome, looked down, their eyes narrowed with disgust and perhaps vengeance. Yet she also noted fear. Could Acestes’s violent end portend what might happen to them if they challenged the Fates and angered the mob?

The former consul, Fimbria, stepped to the railing. He raised his hands for quiet. “As you all know, it is illegal to kill anyone from the patrician rank, unless that person is also a patrician and the death unavoidable.”

The crowd booed and called for Fimbria’s death as well.

“Since Valens Secundus was recently named equestrian, and General Acestes freely entered the arena intending harm, there will be many disputes as to the legality of this killing. The Senate will discuss this in the near future.”

Phaedra knew from long experience as a senator’s daughter that they never would. There was no correct way to rule on the matter, and the mob would be angered whatever the outcome. The Senate would all decide to ignore the matter, never letting it be brought up in session.

“Until then, you are free to go. Phaedra needs to be returned to her guardian.”

“Acestes was her guardian,” said Valens.

Fimbria stepped away from the railing and conferred with a few other senators. “Then she must go to her closest male relative.”

“That is my father’s cousin,” said Phaedra. “He did not want me, so Acestes agreed to make me his charge.”

“If I may,” said Valens.

“Please do,” said Fimbria, interrupting Valens midsentence. “She is yours for the taking, Valens Secundus. You are both free to go.”

Valens leaned on Phaedra as they wound through the darkened corridors of the arena and out into the open spaces of the forum. A crowd gathered, but no one tried to stop them with word or deed.

“So, I am your ward now,” she asked. “What do you plan to do with me?”

“Nothing,” said Valens. “I want you to do what you want to do and be whoever it pleases you to be. No more, no less.”

Did he mean to be rid of her? “You say you love me, but then refuse to keep me?”

“I do love you, and that is why I will allow you to go. If that is what you want.”

The freedom to make her own choices settled on Phaedra like a warm blanket on a cold night. She now had the power over her life, as she had always wanted. Wrapping her arm tighter around Valens, Phaedra knew what, and whom, she would choose.

“Valens,” a voice called. “Wait.”

They turned to see Paullus running toward them. At his side was Terenita.

Phaedra embraced the maid. “What are you doing here? How did you get away?”

Breathing heavily, Terenita straightened her turban. “I just ran. No one in the sponsor’s box tried to stop me.”

“To whom do you belong?” asked Paullus. “It is a matter we must address quickly, lest you gain your new owner’s ire for disappearing.”

“No one,” said Phaedra as she leveled a steely gaze at Paullus. “This woman belongs to no one. She is a free woman and my aunt. I challenge you to defy me.”

“The gods themselves would not be so foolish to either challenge or defy you,” Valens said with a laugh.

Paullus chuckled in agreement.

“Oh, Lady Phaedra,” said Terenita as her eyes began to water, “I cannot thank you enough.”

“No, Aunt, I am not your lady, just your loving niece. You are free to stay with me or see the world on your own. I will give you what I have. You are now free.”

“Free,” whispered Terenita. “I will think on what you have said, but for now I will stay with you.” She paused. “Niece.”

“This is all working out rather well,” said Paullus as he clasped Valens on the shoulder. “You won, you know.”

“I know I won,” said Valens. “I was there when the editor named me the victor.”

“Not you,” said Paullus. “Phaedra, you won your wager.”

“What wager?” Valens asked.

Ah, yes, the necklace that had started and ended everything with Acestes. “I bet a rather nice piece of jewelry on you winning all three bouts.”

“That is kind of you.” Valens kissed her lips. “I am glad I had your support.”

“It was stupid of her. The necklace was worth a quarter of a million sesterces, and the odds on you winning all three matches were one hundred and fifty to one.”

“I did not realize the odds were so low.” Valens was in pain and seemed to be getting more confounded and annoyed by the minute.

“You seem to be missing the point,” said Paullus. “Phaedra is now a wealthy woman. She can have anything she wants.”

“The question becomes,” said Valens, “what do you want, Phaedra?”

With her new wealth came independence. She could go anywhere she chose or buy anything she wanted. Or she could stay at home and buy nothing at all. Yet as her mind wandered to a villa she might buy in Pompeii or a bolt of silk she could purchase, she imagined Valens by her side.

“You.” Phaedra pushed up to tiptoe and kissed Valens on the mouth. She tasted his lips and smelled his scent—leather, sweat, and costmary. “I want you. Rich or poor. Famous or obscure. Powerful or humble. I want you.”

Valens wrapped his arms around her waist. As he placed his mouth on hers, Phaedra chose this moment to begin her life with the man she loved. Now and always.