by Carol Ashby
When she stepped outside, Leander awaited her on the bench, sitting on one pillow and leaning back against the other like she’d made him.
She sat beside him. “How are you feeling?”
His head turned toward her. “Better every day.” Then his eyes turned toward the vineyard.
She’d told him not to say “mistress” or “yes, Calantha” every time he spoke to her. It had taken a few reminders, but he seemed comfortable with that now.
“What are you watching?”
He glanced at her, then shifted his gaze back to the vines.
“Gaius. He’s checking the leaves for caterpillars and removing any he finds.” His mouth straightened. “I should be helping him.”
Calantha’s eyebrows rose. “I see how much it hurts even for you to come out here. You certainly aren’t ready to work.”
He shrugged. “I can do it. It’s a one-handed job, and I’d just be standing on my good leg.”
“Running with an arrow in your leg when we might get killed if you stopped was one thing. Using your leg too soon when it isn’t a life-or-death matter is quite another. That’s not something I want you to do.”
He glanced at her and nodded before turning his eyes back to Gaius. “I’m not used to doing nothing.”
She stood. “Well, you’ll just have to get used to it until I think you’re well enough to do more than rest.”
His mouth twitched. “Yes, Calantha.”
She rose. He mostly remembered not to say it. “Now I have weaving to do.”
His steady eyes looked into hers, and his mouth relaxed into that trace of a smile.
“Don’t even think about going out there to help him. Even lions rest when they need to.”
The way his hair fell across his forehead made her want to push it back. It had the same effect on Marcella and Servilia. There was something about it that made a woman want to mother him.
Her fingers swept his hair to the side. “Call me if you need anything.”
His smile broadened, but he didn’t say anything. He nodded, but did that only mean he heard her, not that he’d actually do it?
As Mistress Calantha’s fingertips brushed his forehead, Leander felt his smile grow. The same thing happened when Marcella did it. The same thing, yet not the same.
Marcella’s touches reminded him of life before the Romans came, when his mother’s fingers used to tousle his hair and squeeze his shoulder as she passed. Ariana had done the same, and her touch spoke of the love that flowed within his family. Love that helped him understand the unconditional love of God.
But the touches of Mistress Calantha weren’t like those of his sister or mother. They were nothing like the kind attention from Marcella and Servilia, his sisters in Christ.
She meant them to be, but they weren’t. Touches that were meant to comfort stirred feelings he didn’t welcome.
Smiles like she bestowed on her nieces felt like the smiles of a woman who liked him.
But the last thing he expected, the last thing he wanted, was for the mistress to look at him through the eyes of a woman and see a man she had feelings for.
The corner of his mouth turned up. Mistress Calantha had been a kind woman since the first day he carried her. Kindness plus gratitude for saving her could look like affection to a man who wanted to believe it.
But he never wanted to believe what wasn’t true. And everyone knew the daughter of a consul of Rome would never let herself think of a slave as a man worthy of her love.
Chapter 42: Expanding the Hunt
Ludus Bruti, Day 27
When Marcus and Aulus rode into the stable yard at the Ludus Bruti, Africanus’s bay was saddled and waiting. Brutus’s horse stood in the stable yard, unsaddled and being brushed.
Africanus turned from a conversation with the slave brushing the stallion. His swift appraisal of Aulus on Marcus’s chestnut stallion made the trace of a smile curve his mouth before he turned his eyes onto Marcus. He raised one eyebrow, then nodded.
Africanus spoke words too soft for Marcus to hear. Then the slave brushing Brutus’s horse led it into its stall.
Marcus’s teeth clenched. Brutus’s slave had assumed he couldn’t provide his friend with a mount worthy of a senatorial son.
The gladiator approached Aulus, who still sat astride Marcus’s spare stallion. He ran his hand down the horse’s foreleg, then slapped its shoulder. “This one should do well. Master Brutus is sparring with Rufus.” His gaze shifted to Marcus and cooled. “Follow me.”
Marcus expected to enter the arena where he trained with Fortis, but they walked past to a smaller one where only Brutus and Rufus were sparring.
When they stepped onto the sand, Brutus looked first at Africanus. A silent nod from the slave triggered Brutus’s smiling frown. He snatched a towel from the bench and wiped his face and chest. He pitched it to Rufus, who did the same.
Brutus pulled a plain tunic over his head and flipped a leather belt around his waist. “My office, and I’ll explain what we do next.”
After a short walk down a narrow hallway, Brutus dropped into his chair and, with a wave of his hand, invited Marcus and Aulus to do the same.
“Since you didn’t find Callidus at the Roman ludi, it’s time to expand the search.”
Aulus rubbed his neck. “But where?”
Brutus leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I told him he wasn’t good enough to stay alive fighting in Roma. I suggested Luna, but it’s a twelve-day journey on foot. Too soon for him to have arrived even if he decided to take my advice. But there are other ludi less than a two-day walk from Roma, and he might have gone to one of those.”
Leaning forward, he rested his crossed arms on the desktop. “You can visit the most likely ones. Africanus has been with me when I’ve shopped for talent there, so the lanistae should recognize him as my agent.
“This time, ask if anyone has sought to join their ludus in the last week. If yes and they didn’t take him on, ask if they know where he might go next. Then ask them to let me know if he shows up later.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “They’ll think they can make some quick money if they sign him and then sell his contract to me at a profit.”
Brutus rose. “You have a long way to ride. My cook packed some food for your trip.”
Africanus had been standing against the wall. He started toward the door until Brutus flicked his hand.
“You boys go mount up. Africanus will join you momentarily.”
As Marcus stepped through the door, he glanced back at Brutus. He was handing a purse to Africanus and speaking too softly for Marcus to catch his words.
Africanus glanced his way, and a soft snort accompanied a smile. A smile like Marcus’s own when he laughed at a man, not with him.
With jaw clenched, he followed Aulus into the hallway and toward the stable.
Perhaps he should ask Father to buy the Nubian. He’d soon learn how a slave should behave, and that didn’t include laughing at a Roman senator’s son.
Alban Hills south of Rome
Mons Albanus rose behind the amphitheater in Alba Longa. On the summit of the volcanic hill, the gleaming white columns of the sanctuary of Jupiter Latiaris were silhouetted against an azure sky.
But neither the temple nor the amphitheater held Aulus’s gaze. The drab brick walls of the first ludus they would visit that day fronted the road ahead.
The first ludus―and hopefully the last.
Africanus nudged his horse to move up beside Aulus and Marcus. “Ask three things. Did anyone sign on this week? If someone tried and was rejected, ask where he went next. Also ask the lanista to send a message to Brutus if someone comes after we leave.”
Marcus’s mouth curved down. “We heard Brutus’s instructions.”
Aulus swung his leg over his horse’s neck and slid off. “Three things. I’ll remember.”
Marcus slipped from his stallion’s back and han
ded his reins to Africanus. “The villas in this area have been home to consuls and senators for generations. I’d expected something more impressive for the amphitheater and higher quality gladiators, but I guess it’s not that far to Rome for a better show.”
Africanus dismounted and held out his hand to take Aulus’s reins. “Some good fighters gain their skill in this arena. Master Brutus shops here for Class 4 and 5 who might improve to Class 3, like he does in Luna and anyplace else he attends the games.”
As the big man led the horses toward the stable across from the ludus, Marcus rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go see if Callidus is here.”
Aulus watched Africanus as he talked with the stable slave. When the gladiator reached into his purse, his gaze returned to Marcus. “We need to wait for Africanus. Brutus said the lanista would be more inclined to help if he saw Africanus with us.”
Marcus blew his breath out through his nose..
As soon as Africanus rejoined them, Aulus squared his shoulders. “May Fortuna smile upon us so we find Callidus here.”
With Marcus at his side and Africanus right behind, he opened the door and stepped inside.
As the door of the Alba Longa ludus closed behind him and he stepped into the street, Aulus’s shoulders sagged. He startled at Africanus’s deep voice just behind his ear.
“Don’t get too discouraged. We’ve only begun looking. We still have five more ludi to check.”
“So many?”
An encouraging smile accompanied Africanus’s nod as they walked to the stable. “One more today, maybe four more over the next three days if we don’t find him in Tusculum.” He pointed northeast, across Lacus Albanus. “Maybe half an hour to the ludus there. Enough villas of the rulers of Rome around that town for an amphitheater.”
Aulus took the chestnut stallion’s reins from the stable slave. “I’ve been there a few times. My father was consul of Rome. He’s governing Sicilia right now.”
He jumped and swung his leg over the horse’s rump.
“I know.” Africanus stroked the horse’s neck. “Master Brutus says he’s a man of honor.” His gaze flicked to Marcus, then returned to Aulus. “Such men set good examples for young Romans.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “Including their own sons.”
Aulus’s mouth tightened as he nodded.
The gladiator mounted. “We’ll take the shorter way along the lake.” He nudged his horse into a slow trot.
As Aulus followed, he glanced at Marcus beside him. Marcus was a loyal friend, a man he could rely on, no matter what. But the solution to the debt he’d suggested, the solution Aulus had willingly embraced, was only clever, not honorable.
Africanus kicked his horse into a canter, and Marcus’s spare stallion matched the pace.
As they sped along the lakeside, one thing was clear. Loyalty and cleverness in getting out of trouble were poor substitutes for the honor that kept you from getting into it in the first place.
Lacus Albanus
As his steel-gray stallion guzzled the lake water, Marcus watched Africanus beside him.
The gladiator felt his gaze and returned it. “Did you need something?”
“No. Just observing. I didn’t notice before with you on your master’s horse, but Brutus likes to match horses and people. His stallion matches his hair, the chestnut Rufus rode to Ardeo matched his hair, and the bay you’re on…you match well enough it’s hard to tell where the horse ends and you begin.”
Africanus’s full-throated laugh merely confirmed Marcus’s suspicion that the gladiator’s mind didn’t catch subtly, even in an insult.
Crinkles remained by the gladiator’s eyes. “When we cross the Alpes to the estate in Germania Superior, I ride a steel-gray horse like the one you’re on. A perfect match for my gladius and dagger. Perhaps that draws attention to how dangerous it is to make me angry.” The laughter in his eyes dimmed, and Marcus felt it shift toward scorn. “But it's a foolish man who lets someone make him angry. It’s the cool-headed man who leaves his opponent dead on the sand.”
With a shrug of one shoulder and a wry smile, Africanus led his horse away.
Marcus rubbed his lip. Brutus’s favorite slave wasn’t as stupid or as tame as he’d thought. But even if he wasn’t joking with that veiled threat, the gladiator probably wouldn’t do anything. No cool-headed man would risk crucifixion for murdering a senatorial son.
But would anyone who lived to spill blood in the arena always act as a cool-headed man?
Porta Capena on the Via Appia, Rome
Marcus and his party wove their way through the line of wagons and carts waiting to enter Rome through the Porta Capena. Aulus slumped in the saddle beside him. Their failure to find Callidus in Tusculum meant another long day in the saddle tomorrow.
The wide stone arch cast a cooling shadow, but the sunlight that warmed them once they rode through was dimmed by a familiar voice.
“Drusus.”
Before it could rub his neck, Marcus stopped his hand. The tribune of the Urban Cohort was the last man he expected to find waiting for them. Titianus stood with arms crossed, his troop of eight in two rows behind him.
Marcus reined in. “Tribune Titianus.” He faked a friendly smile. “Is there some immediate threat to Rome that has you guarding a city gate?”
A smile twitched, then disappeared. “There is always some threat to the peace. Sometimes from the least likely sources.” His head cocked. “What have you two been doing?”
“I was attending to some private business for my father. Since there was nothing Aulus could do as we wait for you to make progress in your investigation, I thought it would be good for him to get away from the Secundus villa for a while.”
Titianus’s head straightened. “You’re a thoughtful friend.” His gaze moved past Marcus. “I see you still have Brutus’s favorite gladiator with you. Haven’t you found the right bodyguard yet?” His cool eyes refocused on Marcus. “I heard you visited a number of ludi since I last saw you.”
Marcus’s neck hairs rose. “We haven’t, and Brutus is kindly lending us Africanus until we do. We just came from Tusculum, and we’ll be looking at some of the other ludi near Rome.”
The tribune’s skeptical smile failed to warm his eyes. “In my experience, it’s not that hard to find a decent bodyguard. Almost any gladiator or ex-gladiator should do.”
Marcus forced a grin. “Perhaps, but when we find what Aulus needs, we won’t have Africanus anymore.”
Titianus’s mouth curved into a smiling frown. “No one wants a cart horse when they have the stallion from a championship team. Brutus might regret that loan before you’re through.”
He flicked his hand and strode away, his troop of eight following.
Aulus nudged his horse into a walk. Marcus followed, but his eyes remained on Titianus’s back.
Being a good friend of Lucius should have made Titianus kindly disposed toward his younger brother. But this tribune was too much like his own big brother―a man who would do his duty without regard to what friendship demands.
He sucked in a breath and released it slowly. A game of cat and mouse was only fun when you were the cat.
Chapter 43: Alphabets and Attractions
Gaius’s farm, Day 27
Leander swung his legs off the bed and arched his back to limber what had stiffened overnight. Not a good idea. The dagger wound had closed, but he still felt a pull and a pain if he moved his shoulder too much.
His leg was the same story. The wounds had sealed, but the deep tears the arrowhead had made in his muscles still made his stride more of a hobble. Still, a man who’d almost died should thank God he was even walking.
His first step was more of a lurch, but by the second, he’d settled into a rhythmic limp as he headed toward the door.
Marcella looked up from stirring the porridge. “After you’ve washed up, I have something special for you.”
“Just being here
is special enough. I don’t want to make you extra work.”
She offered a motherly smile. “Having you here is like having one of my sons home again. I enjoy making a young man happy. And you don’t have to worry about it being extra work. I just have some fresh berries to go with the porridge.”
The thought of berries bursting with flavor rolling around on his tongue drew a huge grin. “That’s worth hurrying back for.”
“Take the crutch Gaius made you.” She shook her head. “Men. Never wanting to take care of themselves like they should.”
Leander hobbled back to the bed to get the crutch. It didn’t help as much as she thought. But Gaius had gone to the trouble of making it, so he would use it. It helped more when he got tired, but the thought of fresh berries would keep that from happening.
Mistress Calantha floated through the doorway as he reached it. “Leander, I just had a wonderful idea.” Her brown-and-gold eyes flashed with a tease. “I feel like being a lion trainer today.”
She slipped past him before he could answer.
Lion trainer. What was she planning to do to him? He suppressed the sigh. Something he’d probably regret, but whatever the mistress wanted, he’d let her do it.
With Gaius’s crutch under his arm, he limped out the door.
Leander popped the last berry into his mouth and savored the explosion of sweetness as he bit into it. Then he turned to Gaius.
“While we’re here, I’d like to work to pay for what we’re costing you. I’m well enough to start.”
Gaius leaned across the table and rested his hand on Leander’s forearm. “I’ll be glad to have your help, but I don’t think you’re quite ready. Besides, this morning I’m helping Sextus with his sheep.” He rose. “I’m heading over there now.”
