“If you have gained a prize match for your gladiator in Novum Comum, then you should return at once.”
Albinius stifled a belch with his fist. “I cannot go now. It is not yet light. Besides, all my belongings are still in the house where I have rented a room.”
Oh, how dull and tiresome he was. “I do not mean this very moment. In the morning you should seek out a caravan going to Novum Comum. I am sure it would not be too difficult to find a cavalcade willing to take on one more passenger.”
“I do not want to depart from Rome now. I just arrived. Besides, we are to be remarried. What about the wedding, and the dowry your uncle promised?”
“I am hardly sixteen annums any longer and have no desire for a large wedding. We can exchange vows in Novum Comum as easily as we can in Rome. In order for your fight to be a grand spectacle, there is much to be done first.” She paused, lest she overplay her turn and make him suspicious.
“Like what?” Albinius asked. When he refilled his cup to the rim, wine sloshed over the side and dripped onto his tunic, leaving bloodred stains.
“In order to fill the stands, you want to make sure everyone is eager to attend.”
“And I would do that how?” he asked.
“Attend parties, especially those where the important men in Novum Comum are in attendance. These men are your peers and will welcome you. After sharing a cup or two of fine wine, you will be in their favor, and they will tell others of the new lanista and his thrilling fight.”
“You know,” he said, setting down his cup with such force that a wave of wine broke over the rim, “I should leave immediately. Once I return to Novum Comum, I will make the acquaintance of all the leading men in town. Then I will tell them of my new gladiator and his opponent from Rome. Everyone will be so excited for the upcoming match that they will need to attend.”
Ah, yes, that was another thing that Fortunada detested about Albinius. He rarely had an idea worth thinking, so he often stole hers. During their marriage his actions had injured and angered her in equal parts. This time she cared not for any of the credit. In fact, she thought it best if Albinius claimed the idea as his own.
“What a good idea!” Fortunada called out, “Jana!”
“Yes, my lady.” Jana seemed to appear out of nowhere, although she had only been standing in the shadows, waiting for a summons.
“Albinius has decided to return to Novum Comum. Wake the steward and have him make travel arrangements.”
Jana inclined her head. “As you wish, my lady.”
More than from the palla she wore, the warmth of success surrounded Fortunada. Albinius began to sniffle, and her self-congratulatory moment ended.
“I was so wrong to leave,” he said. “The children are beautiful. Genaro is strong. I think he will be as tall as me. And Cornelia is lovely and so smart. You have done well for them.” Wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, he added, “And I did nothing.”
At one time Fortunada had loved this man. It would be a small kindness to erase some of his regret. Besides, what harm would it cause? In a few hours he would be gone from her life forever. “They were happy to see you today. As the years pass, you will make more pleasant memories together.”
“That is it.” Albinius finished his drink in one swallow and placed the cup on the table. “I will take the children with me now. As we travel, we can make many merry memories. Oh, Fortunada, you are a rare and wonderful woman.”
Though he had spoken plainly, she prayed that she had misunderstood. “Take the children where?”
“To Novum Comum, of course. Finding passage on a caravan will not be difficult—you said it yourself. You also said that the children and I needed to make pleasant memories. What better way than an adventure? Maid!” he called out. Jana stepped back into the pool of light. “Fetch the steward and have him change my plans. There will be three passengers, not just one. Also, tell Sersa I will take the dowry now. I want to be sure of my Roman challenger before taking to the road.”
“You cannot,” said Fortunada, speaking quickly. “Aside from today, you have not seen Genaro in three years, and this is your first time ever seeing Cornelia. You are strangers to one another.” Dear Ceres, did he not see the sense in her words?
“How better to acquaint ourselves with one another than a journey?” His bleary, drunken gaze was gone, replaced in an instant by clear-eyed sobriety. It happened with such speed that Fortunada wondered if it was she who had been the fool all along.
Chapter 9
Twenty-nine days until the festival of Saturnalia
Baro
The sun shone upon Baro’s face, waking him with its unwelcome glare. He rubbed his eyes, gritty with sleep, unsure where he was or what had happened before he slept.
Wrapped around his thigh was a thick white bandage. Dried blood stained the front. Light streamed in through a pair of long windows and reflected off whitewashed walls. Three narrow beds stood in a row, and Baro lay upon the one in the middle.
In an instant it all came back to him.
Late last night, Baro had been brought from the arena and put to bed in the ludus infirmary. The medicus had given him thick, black syrup of poppy for the pain, and he had floated to sleep on a golden cloud.
Now he was awake and fully aware of one simple fact—his perfect life was naught but a pile of dung. He was destitute and disgraced by the embarrassing loss. Yet, every new day came filled with possibilities, and Baro refused to let anything keep him down for long. Besides, the single bright spot in his otherwise ruined life was Fortunada—his golden one—and for her, he was willing to sacrifice more than his gladiatorial career.
Baro felt neither feverish nor sick, which was a good sign. He prodded his wound with gentle fingers. It ached, but did not pain him. Slowly, he sat up and shifted his legs off the bed. Placing both feet flat on the floor, he took great care and stood.
No pain. No weakness. He was strong, beloved by Rome, and the gods had healed him overnight. Yes, his life was charmed. He took one small step, and pain shot through his leg. It traveled from knee to hip before coming in and echoing out again.
Sweating and cursing, Baro fell to the floor. His entire body throbbed as he clawed his way back to the bed and pulled himself onto the mattress. He hoped that he would not retch, for he lacked the strength to roll to his side.
A moment later, Paullus, still looking pale, entered the room. He was accompanied by a man Baro knew well, the ludus physician. The wizened man held out a gnarled hand to Baro. The two clasped wrists. With a shake of his head, the physician said, “You have done it this time, have you not? Stepped into horse dung up to your middle.”
Baro shrugged. The physician was right. He hazarded a glance at Paullus again. The lanista looked more than pale. His skin was thick and waxy. Baro had seen enough death to know when one was gravely ill. Had all this been his doing?
“How do you fare?” asked Paullus. The question seemed ironic to Baro. It was he who should be concerned for the lanista’s health.
Unable to forgive and unwilling to attack, he said, “I cannot stand, I tried already. If I move again, I will vomit.”
The physician harrumphed. “Stupid boy, it will take time to heal. Use these.” He pointed to a pair of crutches leaning against a wall. “And drink this.” He held out a pottery cup.
Baro accepted the cup and peered over the rim. Thick and white, pyxis stared back. The mixture of fermented milk and ashes was a favorite of all ludus physicians. Broken bones knitted back together more quickly, muscles regrew, and vitality returned—or so they said. Baro never had doubted, even though pyxis tasted of warm plaster and cheese gone to rot.
“I cannot.” Baro set the cup aside. “I will retch.”
“Drink,” said the physician. He picked up the cup again and held it out. “Then you can heal and fight.”
“When?
” asked Paullus.
“If he takes his pyxis, his wound will heal in ten days. If not, two weeks, maybe more,” said the physician. “Either way, it is three months before he can fight, never mind win again.”
Trying not to breathe in its stench, Baro took the offered cup and gulped down the contents in one swallow. Surprised and thankful both, his churning stomach quieted. “I told you yesterday, I refuse to fight for you again.” He handed the cup back to the physician with a nod of thanks.
“Albinius has been to the ludus already. His interest in bringing you north is keen, and he will be traveling to Novum Comum with his children later this morning. He does have the money to pay us. In fact, he had coin in hand. I know how you feel, but I have no choice but to accept. You will still get your thirty percent.” Paullus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Remember, you are contractually obligated to me. You know this, Baro. We discussed this yesterday, and I tire of repeating myself.”
“Yet the circumstances are different today, are they not? Yesterday, I was indebted to you. For training me to be a gladiator, I agreed to fight for six years. Today, you are the one with the debt—two hundred thousand sesterces, if my calculations are correct.”
“I know I borrowed your money without permission. It was only a temporary measure until I could put things right again,” said Paullus.
“You took my money.” Baro balled his hands into fists and drove them into the sheets. It was the only thing he could do to keep from striking Paullus, the fact that he could not stand be damned. “You stole from me. I am willing to forgive that as long as you grant me my freedom.”
“What of your brother gladiators?”
Baro loosened his grip. “What of them?”
“They will be sold to keep the ludus intact.”
Damn Paullus. How could he threaten Baro with the sale of his brother gladiators? He refused to be trapped by sentimentality. “If you sell the men, you will be a lanista without a troupe. This will be a ludus no longer.”
Paullus grimaced and rubbed his breastbone.
“Sit,” said the physician, leading Paullus to the bed next to Baro’s, “lest you become a patient here as well.”
At one time Baro had admired Paullus and trusted him implicitly. Now? Well, Baro supposed that he understood better than most the foolish things one does when desperate. “Had you told me about the wager, the outcome of the fight would have been different.”
“I never thought you would lose on purpose.” With a shake of his head, Paullus added, “I lost sight of what was important—my men and the glory of victory. Instead, I focused only upon the money that came with winning.”
With Paullus’s confession, a flame of respect leaped up and warmed Baro from the inside. “Even so,” said Baro, not even sure of his words as he spoke them, “it is not enough to induce me to stay. Allow me to retire. I will say nothing to the other gladiators about their coin.”
“And what will you do? Leave here, injured and destitute?”
Ah, that was a question Baro had not asked himself before. He puzzled only a moment. “My betrothed has a villa upon the Aventine. I will live with her.” It was not quite what he had offered Fortunada, yet for now it would have to do. At least they would be together. Perhaps this would work to Baro’s advantage, and they could marry sooner rather than later.
Paullus said nothing. So this was it? What was Baro to do now—rise from his bed and gather his belongings? In truth he knew not exactly where Fortunada lived, although he felt certain that as her affianced, he would be welcome in her home.
“At least take the rest of the morning to sleep. It will help you recover,” said the physician, giving Baro a stratagem for the next few hours.
Rest, yes, he could rest. Besides, it was far too early to be awake, even without an injury. Once Baro was with Fortunada, he would tell her that for her love he had lost his title. As sleep claimed Baro, he imagined the smile on her beautiful face as she realized the depth of his affection in all that he had sacrificed for her.
Chapter 10
Fortunada
The goddess Ceres had forsaken Fortunada, and she was no longer blessed. She held tight to the palla that was draped over her shoulders. She sobbed, and a cloud formed in the cold, as if all her anger, hurt, and longing were trapped in that breath.
Eight slaves held poles at each corner of the litter and moved down the lane at a slow and steady pace. Heavy green curtains fell from the gilded roof to the floor of the cabin, hiding the children away from her view. She wanted to scream and run after them, and beg Albinius to take her, too. Yet, pride kept her from doing anything beyond wave at those who did not look back.
The litter rounded the corner, and Fortunada’s children were gone. Her chest tightened until she could no longer draw breath. Eventually, she would travel north to be with them, but she knew not when. Standing alone, she dared not shed a tear. Fortunada feared that once she began to weep, she would not be able to stop. Besides, there was one more heartbreaking task that awaited her.
For her children she would forsake her future happiness with Baro. That momentary dream of being with him—content, loved—had been so pure that to release it now seemed a crime. Still, it must be done. Her chest contracted even more, and she bit the inside of her lip, lest the tears she was determined to ignore overtake her.
With no care for her appearance, Fortunada had dressed in a simple gown of dark-blue silk. Fitted to her breasts, the bodice had no adornments, and the skirt fell in pleats to the ground. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, and she had not taken the time to color either cheek or lip.
Summoning Jana, she began the short walk to the inn. The sights, sounds, and smells of the Capitoline Market faded into a blur. Her feet knew the way, and all too soon she stood outside the room they always used. On the other side of the door, Baro waited. She knew not what to say to him.
Slipping her hand into the silken bag she always wore round her waist, Fortunada found the clay likeness of Ceres. Squeezing the talisman, she prayed. Dear Goddess, for my children, I am turning away from a man whom I love. I do this for you, the goddess of motherhood, also, and hope you are pleased by my devotion and pray that you bring me to my children soon.
The heartfelt petition brought small measures of calm and hope. With one final deep breath, she lifted the latch. Baro was already in the room, lounging upon the bed and gloriously naked. A large bandage wrapped around his thigh broke the sight of his raw male power.
Fortunada rushed to Baro’s side. “You are injured,” she said. Placing a finger upon his leg, she traced the tightly wound linen, as if her touch could absorb the pain. Her hand traveled to his flesh, and a shiver of desire ran through her. Baro felt it, too. His cock lengthened and hardened. “I had not thought to find out how you fared yesterday.” Immediately, she understood the callousness of her words and followed quickly with, “I assumed that you would win.” She withdrew her hand, the stupid thing, and set it—uselessly—upon her lap.
Gesturing to his leg, Baro said, “I was hoping you might favor me with a healing kiss.”
Despite the hot tears, which stung her eyes, she smiled. She would miss Baro and his playful ways. Fortunada placed her lips on the bandage, kissing it lightly. “Better?” she asked.
“Much,” he said. “Yet fair is fair. I should kiss you someplace special now, too.” His voice was low and filled with the promises of sensual delight.
She had to resist. Having sex with Baro, as if nothing had changed, would make their parting harder—bitter. She prayed for the strength to refuse his invitation, but the words did not come to her. Instead, she lay down and folded her body next to his, so they faced each other. “We must speak,” she said.
“No words,” he whispered onto her skin as he kissed her neck. His lips, soft and warm, traveled from under her jaw to the hollow of her shoulder. Fortunada shuddered.
How easy it would be to surrender just one more time. Her life would be long with Albinius, longer still knowing that things would have been different with Baro. Placing her palms on his bare chest, she pushed away. “Baro, there is something important that you need to know.”
He gripped her hands about the wrists and shifted, holding them so they were pinned above her and Fortunada lay flat on the bed. “There is much I want to tell you, too. But much more I want to do with you first.”
Fortunada inhaled his scent. He smelt of cardamom and rich, cool earth. She could not help herself, and she licked the side of his neck, tasting the salt of his skin. Her cunnus tightened, ready to envelop him.
“If we must speak, then I want to tell you,” he said, moving his kiss from her mouth to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Gooseflesh sprang up on her arms. “I used to think that I understood love. After being with you, I know now that to love is to have a willingness to sacrifice all.”
Her heartbeat stuttered at his words. Did Baro really understand the sacrifices that had to be made for love?
Baro’s hand moved lower and grazed the valley between her breasts. Through the fabric of her gown, he stroked one nipple with his thumb. It hardened under his touch, and she instinctively pressed herself into his palm as if she could not get close enough. Never close enough. Still, Fortunada knew that lovemaking today would be a mistake.
No, the ache deep inside her body said. Release the worry and give in to the pleasure one last time. Yet, to take him inside her under the pretense that they would soon be married was too dishonest, even for her most basic longing that cared nothing for honor.
“We cannot marry,” she whispered as his hand traveled from her breast to the hollow of her stomach.
His touch moved lower. Through the fabric of her gown, Baro found the top of her cunnus and began to rub. The silk slid over her flesh, increasing her pleasure. “You,” he growled in her ear, “cannot refuse my offer. I care not what you have convinced yourself. We belong together. In you, I see my future.”
The Gladiator's Temptation (Champions of Rome) Page 7
