It was all too easy to see now with these women milling about ogling him why he had made the mistake of yesterday. How many of them had figurines of Valens locked away in their private cupboard next to their jars of ointment, pots of white lead and caskets of wine dregs?
Julia bowed her head.
'Did you see much of the ceremony?' he asked, making no move to leave. If anything, he stood closer. 'I thought it went down rather well.'
He reached down a hand, caught her wrist, pulled her upright, then let go. Julia felt the sparks radiate upwards.
'I…I came with my friend Claudia. She is Caesar's niece.'
Julia motioned to Claudia, who gave a small gasp and sank into a curtsy. 'And a great supporter of the gladiator contests, a real aficionado. She collects figurines.'
Valens raised an eyebrow and gave a slight bow. Julia wondered if her own face was as beet-red as Claudia's.
'Claudia is not of the same persuasion as you? Perhaps between us, we can convert you to the games.'
'I saw you at Pompeü three months ago,' Claudia gasped, grabbing on to Julia's arm with a vice-like grip. 'You fought magnificently. I mean, I normally support the Great Shields, but you fought so brilliantly. I loved the way you did that last slash of your sword and knocked the renarius's trident away so he had to ask for mercy. I thought you deserved a rudius for your performance…'
'Thank you.'
Valens made a small salute with the hand holding his helmet. Almost identical to the salute he'd given at the end of the ceremony. Was it her imagination or did Valens look vaguely uncomfortable? Julia silently wished Claudia would not gush.
'Did you enjoy the presentation ceremony, Julia Antonia?' he asked when Claudia had paused for a breath.
Julia patted a stray lock of hair into place as she tried to think. She wanted to say something intelligent, but not fawning. She'd refrain from gushing.
'It was fairly impressive. Everyone should look splendid—fighting in their new armour.' Julia rolled her eyes as she listened to her voice, dripping with honey. She sounded worse than Claudia.
'Certainly for the opening parade when we ride the chariots out,' he said, his voice flowing over her again, sending tingles down her spine, 'but I'm superstitious, as are most of my colleagues, and prefer to fight using tried and trusted equipment.'
Julia gripped Bato's collar tighter. She stared at him, locking eyes, wondering what else she could say, what words she could use to prolong the encounter. In a breath, he'd be gone. Venus knew when she'd have a chance to speak with him again.
'Julia,' Claudia said, cutting across her thoughts, 'I've just remembered—there's something I have to do. Someone I have to see.'
Julia felt a weight roll off her shoulders. The gods had decided for her. Some god had taken pity on her, decided she had embarrassed herself enough for one day. Julia scooped Bato up in her arms.
'If you want to leave…'
'No, no, you stay and talk to your gladiator.' Claudia patted Julia's shoulder and disappeared in a cloud of expensive perfume and jangling bracelets before Julia could protest.
Bato wriggled out of her arms and went to sit by Valens. Julia stared at her sandals, rather than meeting Valens's eye. He was sure to have the same knowing smile of yesterday plastered all over his face. She was certain she appeared to be one of those Roman matrons who ran after gladiators and paid them for their services.
If only the ground were to open up and swallow her, Julia thought. Even her dog and best friend were conspiring against her.
'I am glad I have a chance to talk to you,' she said at last, breaking the silence that had descended after Claudia's departure.
'Yes?' he said with a lifted eyebrow—the tone of his voice implied he was tolerating her and looking for a way to end their encounter.
Julia squared her shoulders and tilted her chin upwards. She had to say it before she made a spectacle of herself, before the attraction she felt growing inside of her took firm root.
'About this morning…' she began. After two tries where no words came, she transferred her gaze from his face to the ground, keeping her eyes trained firmly on his sandals. 'I wanted to say…that is…I am not the sort of woman who behaves in that way. I am a Roman matron who keeps to her ideals.'
There, she had said it. She thought she'd feel much better, but she felt worse.
He lifted her chin with gentle probing fingers. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. His brown eyes seemed filled with some emotion. After searching her face with intent eyes, he let go of her chin and his face became inscrutable.
'Forget it. I already have,' he said.
Valens moved back a little from Julia, trying to regain some measure of calm and distance. Her very scent of flowers and honey threatened to overpower him and the resolutions he had made this afternoon. He hated himself for lying to her and seeing the flash of hurt in her eyes.
All throughout morning practice, he had found it impossible to get her out of his mind. It was far better to stop things here before they started. The last thing he needed was an added distraction. And Julia Antonia was definitely that.
Despite his resolutions, his heart had beat faster when Bato appeared from nowhere to clamber on the stage. It made the ceremony more special to know that Julia was somewhere in the crowd, that she was watching him receive this armour.
He had pushed the thought away. Why should he care? He thought about shooing Bato away, but then the dog started to play tug of war with Aquilia's net and he refused to abandon the scamp to Aquilia's wrath. He had planned on returning him quickly, but the sight of Julia enveloped in her deep red layers made him want to linger. He knew the underlying curves, curves that had moulded to his body this morning.
The brief look of bewilderment in Julia's eyes made things harder. Valens shifted uncomfortably and wanted to take back the words. He had stated it badly. He wanted to reassure her, but the words made him sound callous.
'Have you had anyone look at your ankle?' he asked.
'It is much better,' she said with a voice chipped out of marble.
Valens ran his hand through Ins hair, confused between his determination to keep his focus on his work and his desire for Julia. He should be rejoicing that she was annoyed with him.
'That's not what I asked. Have you sought proper treatment, like we discussed yesterday?'
'It appears to be healing on its own,' she said, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, 'I see no need. Now, if you'll excuse me…'
Valens reached out a hand and caught her shoulder, holding her back. He should let her go, leave her to the Fates, but his conscience refused to let him.
'The surgeon is over there.' Valens pointed to where the school's surgeon stood, examining the shoulder of a young tiro who had won his proper sword this morning. 'It will only take him a little while to determine what is wrong with your ankle and if you will need further treatment.'
She jerked her shoulder out of his grasp and stood staring daggers at him.
'I think I am the best judge of how my ankle is. I have managed quite comfortably all day. Now, if you will release my arm, I will go and take Bato home.'
Valens clenched his fist and contemplated marching her over to the surgeon. Had he ever met a more stubborn woman? Why did she refuse to do what was best for her?
'You are not going anywhere until you get that ankle looked at.'
'Under whose orders?' she snapped back, tilting her chin in the air and crossing her arms. Her green-shod toe was just visible under the hem of her gown, tapping away.
Valens groaned and shifted his helmet to his other hand. The weight of his new armour pressed down on him, reminding him where his duty lay.
'It's for your own good, Julia.'
'I think I know what is for my own good, Valens, and my ankle is fine.' Her voice was quiet, but determined. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I need to find Claudia. When I need your help, I'll ask for it.'
Valens stared at her.
Julia positively bristled with indignation as she rearranged her shawl so that it covered her face. What had he done? The way she acted, it would be easy to imagine he had indecently propositioned her! He balanced on his toes, uncertain of his next move in this game.
'Whose dog is this?' Valens heard the high-pitched squeak of Aquilia demand.
The hook-nosed gladiator was bearing down on them, displeasure and menace oozing from every pore. With each step he took, he slapped his net against his thigh.
Valens took one look at Julia's fear-widened eyes and moved between her and Aquilia. His hand lightly gripped his sword.
'Aquilia, we've already had words about this—'
'You keep out of this,' Aquilia snarled, pushing at Valens's shoulder. Valens swore as he stumbled to one side, annoyed with himself—he should have anticipated the action.
'What happened up there was an accident.' Valens struggled to keep his voice even and reasonable. He could see Julia's hand start to tremble as she drew her dog closer to her.
'That dog was sent on purpose.' Aquilia's voice reached ever-higher squeaks with each word he uttered. 'Somebody wanted to humiliate me, and I demand to know who.'
Valens glanced at Julia, whose arms had tightened around the squirming Bato, the faint sheen of fear showed on her face. Bato gave a soft growl in the back of his throat. Aquilia's sneer increased. He raised his net above his head. Valens tensed. If Aquilia went for the dog, he'd have no more than a blink of an eye to react.
'The dog is mine,' she stammered. 'It…it was an accident, as Valens said. My…my dog escaped.'
'Your dog ruined Caesar's ceremony and made me, the greatest gladiator of an entire generation, the laughing stock of Rome,' Aquilia said with a curl of his lip.
'There appears to be a dispute on who is the greatest gladiator,' Julia retorted with blazing eyes. 'I had not heard your name bracketed with that title.'
Valens felt a glow of pride at her words. He could see from her white lips that she was terrified. But she refused to cower in front of Aquilia like so many women and men he had seen. A Roman matron from the tales of old, a woman to honour.
Aquilia gave an inarticulate roar. Julia flinched and turned her head into Valens's shoulder. At the sight, Aquilia gave a little laugh.
'The truth will out,' Aquilia said with speculation in his eyes. 'Tell me how long have you belonged to this…man?'
A deep welling anger built up inside of Valens. What right did Aquilia have to frighten Julia? He nearly lashed out, but managed to hang on to his temper.
In his three months in the pirate's custody, he had seen Aquilia behave in the same fashion to the others who had been captured with him, enjoying the fear. Back then, full of pride, Valens had struck back blindly. Retribution was immediate and harsh. Two legionaries, raw recruits barely two months out of Rome, men he as a junior tribune had been responsible for, died because of his foolhardy actions. Valens had vowed, kneeling on the deck, his mouth full of blood, never again to let Aquilia see his anger—he did not intend to start now.
'You had no need of a dog to help you become the laughing stock, you did it all on your own, my comrade.' Valens said, making his voice drawl. Before he moved away from Julia, he reached out and touched her hand, hoping she'd recognised he was trying to draw Aquilia's attention to himself. 'You know what they whisper—Aquilia is little better than a dog. Caesar must have had a hard time deciding on whom to bestow the armour.'
Valens caught the full force of Aquilia's furious glance. The dead-eyed stare made the flesh on his neck creep. Valens forced himself to stare Aquilia calmly in the eyes, but his hand fingered the hilt of his sword. This time, he knew how to fight.
'Who are you, gladiator? As brave in defending your lady love with your fighting skill as you are with your words?' Aquilia spat. 'Tiros should be seen and not heard until they have bloodied their swords in the arena.' Aquilia's curled lip showed the insult was deliberate and designed for maximum offence. There could be no doubt Aquilia knew Valen's status.
'If it is necessary, yes.' Valens looked his opponent up and down. He refused to lose his temper, despite the calculated insults. 'This should not take long. I have seen you fight.'
'Have a care—I am a first-hall rentarius. I could order you whipped for your insubordination.' Aquilia snapped his fingers. 'Perhaps I will. It should be fun to watch.'
'Valens, a first-hall Thracian, and not some untried tiro' Valens said, making an elaborate bow, but keeping his eyes trained on Aquilia's shoulders. Should Aquilia decide to strike, there would be a slight movement in the shoulders, giving a clue as to the direction. 'May I suggest you have a care, as you so aptly put it. You are no longer in command of a ship. Thracians come before rentarü in the gladiator world, and Strabo does observe the order.'
Valens waited for Aquilia's reaction, knowing what he had done. It was a code of practice among gladiators not to name previous deeds. Part of the initiation ceremony was to be reborn as a gladiator. The only thing that existed was the arena and the games. The muscles in his sword arm tensed to breaking point.
Aquilia smiled, showing an array of broken teeth. He pulled a scroll from his belt.
'Valens…ah, yes, I have a message for you. Practice this morning is brought forward by an hour. Caesar's orders.'
'I discovered.' Valens drew on all of his self-control and kept his face blank. He returned the gaze steadily without bunking. No emotion. Nothing to give Aquilia the satisfaction of seeing the anger. He forced his shoulders to relax. 'Had you delivered it earlier, I might have been able to act.'
'I am no messenger boy.' A dagger flashed in Aquilia's hand. 'Especially not for a Thracian.'
'You are what Strabo says you are,' Valens shot back. 'Next time, if he asks you to deliver a message, do it on time.'
Aquilia blew on his nails. 'Care to make me?'
Valens tightened his grip on his anger. He knew that Aquilia expected him to lash out blindly. He refused to give him that satisfaction. He forced his hand from his sword.
'I save my fighting for the arena.'
Behind, Valens heard Julia gasp. He was vaguely aware of a growing crowd starting to surround them.
'Now if you'll excuse me…'
He heard the hiss of the net and moved before it could strike his chest. It fell harmlessly to the ground.
'That was very foolish, Aquilia. Very foolish indeed,' Valens said as he put his hand on his sword and crouched low.
Aquilia stood tall and strutted, languidly retrieving his net. Valens's eyes flicked over the other gladiator, searching for his weak point.
'After I am finished with you, I shall take your woman to bed. It will be my pleasure to pleasure her.'
Keep your temper, my boy, Valens heard the voice of his first trainer echo in his mind. Your opponents will probe for a way to make you lose it, lose control and lose the match. You stay alive by keeping in control.
Valens glanced over at Julia now. She no longer even attempted to hide her fear. One hand grasped Bato's collar while the other clutched at her throat. All colour had drained from her face.
Valens knew, from her reaction, that Aquilia's hissed words had carried. He felt his control begin to slip.
How dare Aquilia start in on Julia! Gladiators protected defenceless women.
With one movement, he fit his helmet to his head, closing the visor with a click and unsheathed his sword. He readied his stance, every nerve on fire, every muscle waiting to move. A red mist filtered over his eyes.
He heard Julia gasp and paused, his sword raised. He needed to meet the aggression with controlled violence, not with a headlong charge.
The crowd around them made a ring. He heard someone shouting out the betting. Valens's eye flicked over Aquilia, searching for an opening, a way to knock him on the ground.
'Move away, make way.' Strabo squeezed through two bystanders to appear on Valens's right. 'What in the name of Hercules is going on here?'
Strabo's words brok
e the spell. Valens straightened and removed his helmet. The red mist receded. He looked at Aquilia, whose net dangled on the ground. The sneer of the pirate captain was more pronounced than ever.
'It appears Aquilia objects to being a messenger boy,' Valens drawled. 'He has just now delivered the message you gave him yesterday evening for me.'
Strabo scowled. 'Is this true?'
Aquilia shrugged, lifting both hands into the air.
'I am a gladiator of the first hall, not a messenger boy. If I see the man, I deliver the message. I did not see him until just now. Then I give him the message.'
Valens crossed his arms and started counting. He reached two when Strabo exploded, his face contorting as the words sank in.
'You are a slave, boy. And you and your trident belong to me for the duration,' Strabo growled and grabbed Aquilia's breastplate, shaking him. Then he released him and took a step towards Valens, but stopped short. His hand curled around empty air. 'Neither of you forget that. You fight when I say you fight.'
'Understood, my lanista,' Valens said calling Strabo by his official title of trainer-manager as he placed his sword in its sheath.
Aquilia merely bowed.
'Shake hands,' Strabo commanded. 'You are outside the arena now. Save it until you meet inside.'
Valens grasped Aquilia's hand briefly, promising himself, should the Fates declare they meet in the ring, that it would be a fight with only one victor. The crowd cheered and then started to disperse.
'Aquilia, forty denarü for insubordination. Valens, your fine is commuted to ten.' Strabo clapped his hands and two of the trainers appeared. He motioned to Aquilia, who had flecks of spittle around his mouth. 'Take him somewhere to calm his temper. Valens, I think I can trust you.'
Without waiting for an answer, Strabo strode off. Valens turned towards Julia, who was standing with her back against the statue of Venus. She looked white-lipped as her hands clutched Bato. The dog gave a slight whine of protest.
'He said such horrible things about me,' she said. "Lies everyone could hear! Lies that will fly around Rome within the hour. Rome loves scandal.'
'He was trying to goad me,' Valens said and didn't need to elaborate on how close he had come to succeeding.
The Gladiator's Honor Page 7
