She could not resist the draw of Baro’s touch and words. Ecstasy began to surround Fortunada, washing over her, warming her, bringing her closer to the faces of the gods. “It is not that,” she gasped. “I would never refuse your offer.”
“Tell me that you want me.” He increased the pressure to her most sensitive spot.
Ceres and Juno and Minerva help her. She wanted him desperately. Yet, Baro needed to know the truth.
“Let go of my arms,” she said, “and hear my words.”
With a sigh, Baro released her, leaving Fortunada free to do what she wanted and say what she must. He rolled to his side. With the lightest touch, he traced the side of her neck.
“My former husband, Albinius, has returned. He plans to take our children and run, of all things, a ludus. In order for me to remain with Cornelia and Genaro, I must remarry,” she said.
Baro held himself with statuelike stillness. The silence that separated them grew until, to Fortunada, it became a bottomless ravine.
At length, Baro spoke. “You said your parents were not in Rome. How has your father negotiated a marriage while traveling to Germania?”
“My father will have to agree, certainly,” Fortunada corrected quickly. “It is my uncle who has made the initial arrangements.”
He sat up and shook his head. “Why are we worried about your uncle? If it is simply a marriage, then I can send out a rider to find your parents. I am from the equestrian class,” he said. “Certainly, your father will consider me to be a suitable son-in-law.”
“You seem not to understand my plight,” she said. “It is not a simple marriage I am making. In order to remain with my children, I must rewed my former husband. My uncle has provided a dowry.”
A heartbeat passed. She sat up and wrapped her arms around Baro’s middle. His spine stiffened under her touch. “Nothing in the world brings me more sorrow than knowing that we cannot be,” she said into his shoulder. “But it is so.”
The truth, both ugly and beautiful, hung in the air. It filled Fortunada’s lungs and raced through her veins.
For a long moment, Baro did nothing.
Then his shoulders began to tremble slightly. She did not know if she could bear seeing the powerful Baro cry. From the center of his chest, she felt the rumble of a sound a moment before it burst free. She held him tighter before acknowledging that it was not a sob she had heard, but a guffaw of laughter.
That first laugh was followed by a second and a third. Soon, Baro was laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face, and his whole body convulsed as if in the grip of a fit.
“I find none of this amusing,” she said, her arms sliding away.
“Do you not?” asked Baro, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I find it all very funny. No, not funny. Ironic, yes, this is all ironic.”
Baro’s amiably spoken words sliced through her chest, leaving Fortunada wounded and exposed. She withdrew her arms and moved to the other side of the bed, sitting with her back to him.
“I see no irony in losing love when newly found,” she said.
“Love?” he snorted. “There is no love between us. If there had been, you would have known of my injury. Instead, you spent yesterday pretending that I did not exist and renewing your love for your former husband.”
“Pretending that you did not exist? How dare you. Yesterday, I spoke to the quaestor in hopes that we might be together while keeping my children with me as well.”
“That is the irony. There is nothing I am, or was not willing to give up, to be with you. You have no idea what I sacrificed for you, nor do you care. I will tell you this: it is far more than the tedious question of who would raise a child.”
It took a moment for Fortunada to fully grasp what Baro had said. “You would have me turn away from my son and daughter? Who would care for them, if not for me?”
“They have their father; do they not? They are his property, and he has come to take them to his home. This is the supreme law upon which Rome is built. Who are you to question his decision?”
“Children,” said Fortunada, drawing out the words, “need their mother.”
“I lived in the villa with my parents and saw them only in the afternoon. I was brought up first by a nurse and later by my tutor. It is the way of the world,” he said with a shrug.
“Did you not want to see your parents more?”
“My tutor was learned and my nurse kind. I was taught how to be a Roman man. It was those lessons of childhood that enable me to be who I am today—Baro the Equestrian, known and revered throughout the republic.”
“You are too famous,” Fortunada spat.
“You knew I was the most famous man in the republic when we met, when you took me to your bed.” His voice and words were dispassionate. “All of this is part of the irony. You see my leg, my injury? After leaving you yesterday, I asked my lanista if I could stop fighting, work as a trainer, and move from the ludus for you. He refused. He even forbade me from seeing you again. There was no other way I knew of freeing myself—to be with you—other than allowing my opponent to win.”
“I—I did not know,” she stammered.
“And now you understand why I find this all so amusing.” Baro stood and reached for his crutches. “There is one more thing you might find ironic as well. I know I do. After the fight, there was a lanista who tried to hire me. He goes by the name of Albinius. Might he be known to you?”
“Ceres help me.” Despite the chilled morning, the room grew hot and airless. Fortunada’s back dampened with perspiration. “You are the famous gladiator?”
Baro lifted the table at the side of the bed and drove it back into the floor with a crack. “You knew? And am I to assume that it is your dowry that would have paid my fee?”
The sight of Baro made Fortunada want to scream. How had her pure love rotted so quickly? “How is it that I ever cared about you at all? I would never marry you, Baro, not if you were the last man on earth.”
Baro cursed and clenched his jaw. “Fortunada, do not say that.”
“Why not?” she asked. “What else is there for us to say? I came to end our relationship, and now it is over. I had hoped you would understand, but it matters little that you do not.” The tears she refused to cry came unbidden. She dried them with the hem of her palla. “I suppose you are right. This is all ironic.”
Without another word, she sped from the room. Stumbling down the stairs, she found Jana quietly sitting at a table.
“It did not go well, my lady?” asked Jana.
“No,” said Fortunada. She took in a shaking breath, yet it did nothing to calm her nerves. “I was a fool to think that it would.”
Without another word, Fortunada left the tavern. Instead of walking toward her home, she turned in the opposite direction and made her way to the Capitoline Market.
Lanes fed into the marketplace, and the traffic became heavier. People rushed past, bumping into Fortunada and sending her staggering as if she were drunk. Maybe she was, or had been. Love was like that. It made you forget yourself and what was best—just like a strong wine.
“If you do not mind my asking,” said Jana. Even though she yelled near Fortunada’s ear, she was hard to hear over the din of so many others speaking at once. “Where is it that we are going?”
“There is nothing else for me in Rome. My children are gone and I should be with them. I want to book passage with the next caravan traveling to Novum Comum.”
Chapter 11
Baro
Returning to the bed, Baro lay back and stared, dry-eyed, at the ceiling. Had his entire life just crumbled to dust? It was the powers of destruction and creation at work, was it not? A career that had taken years to build was in ruins after one rash decision. A love that would never be rivaled in his life had ended because of his anger-fueled words.
And he
had brought this all about.
Had he really believed himself to be above reproach? Baro sat up and reached for his crutches. He knew not what to think about Fortunada. He understood her desire to be with her children—really, he did. But it angered and injured him further that she could not see what he had sacrificed for her. Was his career not his life?
Baro stood up and left the room, then hobbled down the exterior stairs of the inn. He knew not where to go. He had no ludus, no family, no Fortunada. He had been alone before, he reminded himself. Yet, what was different between then and now was that vengeance no longer filled him. Regret was his current companion.
He hobbled aimlessly through the Capitoline Market, then stopped at the open doorway of a tavern. The dark interior was a welcome respite from the glare of the morning. Aside from a barmaid, the room was empty. Baro found a corner table, laid his crutches on the floor, and sat. As he stared at the table, images danced through his mind. He saw his parents, both long dead, as he knew them when he was a child. He felt that unbridled joy of being taken to see them, along with the crushing sadness of being ushered away after a too-short interview of his day. He saw Fortunada as she rummaged through her green silken bag—looking for the seeds she took to prevent pregnancy. Had they married, he would have been more of a father than his sire, no matter what society dictated.
His musings ceased and Baro once again saw the tavern. Or to be more exact, Baro saw the barmaid’s cleavage as she bent toward the table. “Are you—” she began.
Baro smiled at her. “A pitcher of wine, if you please.”
“You are him, are you not?”
At least he was still famous. Baro shrugged and followed it with a slight nod.
The barmaid returned and, bending low again, set an earthenware pitcher upon the table. With a smile, she said, “If this does not set you right, Baro the Equestrian, I can offer you other remedies for whatever ails you.”
For a moment he considered accepting her offer. There was nothing better to help one forget an old lover than a new lover. But Fortunada had been more than a lover. She had been his love. He was not ready to forget. Throwing a coin upon the table, he rose and said, “I am not as thirsty as I thought.”
He reached for the crutches and moved to the door. From behind came the snort of a laugh. He turned. Hand on hip, the barmaid glared at him. “Did the loss yesterday leave you unmanned?” she asked. “Or were you unmanned first and that is why you lost?”
Baro was in no mood for this woman or her injured pride. Still, he had his reputation to consider, and ill-spoken words of his, though justified, would doggedly follow him far more than kindly spoken ones. “You are far too beautiful,” he said, “for a mere trifle.”
Even in the darkened room, Baro saw the woman’s cheeks redden with her blush. With a nod, he left the tavern. Each step pierced his thigh with burning. Pain coursed throughout his body, and he longed to rest. From across the marketplace, the ludus came into view, and Baro knew what must be done. There was but one way to make amends to both Paullus and Fortunada.
Once more he would take to the sands. In so doing, he would bring in coin that could help the ludus remain solvent. He would also secure Albinius’s place in Novum Comum and therefore assure Fortunada’s future as well.
Would Fortunada be in Novum Comum when he arrived? The notion of seeing her both excited and aggrieved him. For how could he want anything other than to be near her? All the same, he doubted that he would have the stomach to bear her company as the wife of anyone, especially Albinius the Rube.
Baro approached the gate, and the men who stood guard opened it without comment. They avoided looking at Baro and even held their bodies well away, lest they accidentally touch. It was as if defeat were a disease, and Baro contagious. The men at their drills did not stop. No one called out a greeting, and like a wraith, Baro silently slipped across the practice arena.
A guard stood sentry at the iron door that separated the ludus from Paullus’s villa.
“I would see the lanista,” Baro said as he approached.
The man hesitated, resting his hand upon the ring of keys at his waist. With a sigh and a shake of his head, the guard opened the door and led Baro through the corridors that wound through the villa. They stopped not at the tablinum as expected, but rather, Paullus’s chamber.
“Gratitude,” said Baro as he stepped over the threshold.
In all his years at the ludus, he had never been inside this most personal space. A heavy wooden bed took up the center of the room. A post stood at each corner, and a sheer cloth had been draped over the whole, cocooning Paullus in a cloud of white. Propped up with several pillows, the lanista slept.
Marilla sat at a table in the corner, stylus in hand. Scrolls lay open before her, and at her elbow sat a stack of unopened tablets. She looked so much like her father that Baro laughed. Almost.
Without looking up from her work, Marilla said, “The ludus’s reserve coin is gone. Did you know that?”
Baro instinctively took a step back, feeling as if he had intruded on a conversation between father and daughter. Paullus slept on. “I did,” said Baro. “Your father mentioned it yesterday.”
Much in the manner of Paullus, Marilla leaned back in her chair and tossed the stylus onto the table. “What are we to do?” she asked.
Baro moved from his perch by the door and sat on the edge of Paullus’s bed. “You keep running the ludus, Marilla.” He reached through the curtain that hung over the curtain and clasped Paullus’s hand. He willed some of his strength into the weakened lanista. “I will go to Novum Comum and win. You have my word upon that.”
Chapter 12
Fortunada
Back in her villa, Fortunada sat at her cosmetics table and cursed her family’s lack of coin.
In front of Fortunada stood a jar filled with fine powder of arsenic meant to turn her face bone white. Next to it sat several pots of red cream rouge for lips and cheeks. She pushed them all aside and found a clean sheet of papyrus along with an inkstand and stylus. She unrolled the reedy papyrus. Dipping the stylus into the inkstand, she tapped the excess ink off on the rim. It fell back with a plop. Atramentum librarium was always gummy at first, she should have known. Adding a splash of water, Fortunada stirred. Once the atramentum shone like black silk, she began to write.
Missive to Albinius Faenius
Dearest Albinius,
Please know that I will be leaving for Novum Comum five days hence. I find that I miss our children and am anxious for their company once again. I have booked passage for Jana and myself with a caravan leader called Milo. By traveling north on the Via Aurelia, I am assured that the journey will take no more than four weeks. I look forward to beginning a new life with you in Novum Comum and have the highest hopes that our union will be happy.
Yours,
Fortunada
Hopefully she could get there sooner and would be in Novum Comum in time to celebrate Saturnalia with the children. The festival for the god of the fall planting was always a favorite among children—hers included. It was more than the gifts exchanged, it was also the meal the entire household shared, slaves and master alike. It was a special time of year, and she should be spending it with her own familia.
She set the missive aside a moment to let the atramentum dry. Underneath the first sheet of papyrus had sat another. Baro. She could write to him, could she not? Yet, to what end? Never again in this life would Fortunada see the handsome gladiator, even if it were for her former husband that he would be fighting next. At the same time, she still cared greatly for Baro’s goodwill.
No, Fortunada decided. She had made too many concessions to apologize for being a devoted mother.
From the corridor, Sersa knocked on the doorjamb. “I thought I might find you here,” he said.
“Come in,” she said. “I was just writing a letter.”
> Sersa entered the chamber and took a seat in a straight-backed chair next to her table. “I do hope you come to love Albinius again,” he said. “I know that I did not give you any time to consider my plan, but trust me when I say that you will be happier with your former husband and your children than you would be in forsaking the one and losing the other.”
“You are right,” she said. “It is just . . .” Just what? That she wanted to be with Baro. After the fight today, she suspected that their marriage would not have been a happy one, either. Why, then, did this ending leave her with a bottomless grief akin to a death? “It is just unexpected,” she finished. “Although Albinius will be as good a husband as any other man I could have married.” Dear Ceres, she wished that were true, although she knew it was not.
“Once I complete my business in Rome, we will travel north together. I hope to be done by month’s end.”
Fortunada waved her hand toward the letter. “I have made my own arrangements and have found a caravan willing to take both Jana and me. We will leave a few days from now.”
“You cannot travel alone, my dear. The roads are unsafe.”
“We are traveling in a caravan with a professional guide. Nothing will go amiss.”
“This is foolishness. There is no reason to risk your life, not when I can ensure your safe passage.”
“My children,” she said. “To be with Genaro and Cornelia I will happily risk everything. Besides, your business may take longer than a month. The weather in the north could turn and leave me stranded in Rome throughout the winter.”
Sersa held up his hands in surrender. “I know enough not to argue when you refuse to be dissuaded. Besides, I have made too many decisions for you already today.” He stood and placed a kiss upon her brow. “I will leave you to complete your correspondence, so long as you promise that you are not greatly aggrieved with me.”
The Gladiator's Temptation (Champions of Rome) Page 8
