Blood of a Gladiator

by Ashley Gardner

I glanced up in concern. “Is there a threat? Even now that his son is safe?”

  Nero gave me a look intended to be wise, but he didn’t have the face for it. “Rome is always dangerous. Well I know this.” He shuddered delicately. “Let us not speak of it and have more music. Leonidas, please go away. I would like Cassia to remain. She has an ear.”

  My blood chilled. Cassia had no power, and Nero could do with her what he pleased. He might simply play his lyre for her for several hours, but he also might decide to sate a few appetites on her, and she could do nothing to stop him. His appetites were rumored to be exotic.

  I cleared my throat. “I have need of her. Sir.”

  Nero’s carefully plucked brows rose. “I can’t think why. Off you go, gladiator. I will send her home when I am finished.”

  I flashed a glance at Cassia, which she returned without expression. I had to leave her—I had no choice. It burned me inside to go through the door, and I kept my steps slow.

  I paused in the lavish room outside the peristyle while the guards closed the doors behind me, shutting Cassia in with the princeps of all Rome. I waited until I heard the plucked strings of the lyre and Nero’s voice rise in song before I made myself walk away.

  I refused to go home. A servant led me firmly out of the domus, but I planted myself in the outer courtyard, saying I’d wait for Cassia.

  One of the Praetorian Guards broke from wall duty and advanced on me. “Leonidas the Spartan,” he announced.

  “I am.”

  The man pulled off his helmet and grinned at me, becoming a human being. “I’ve seen you win many a game. Won plenty of coin on you, I have to say.”

  “Good.”

  My curtness did not put him off. “I am Severus Tullius. You can count me as a friend on the Palatine.”

  I wondered what he meant, but I did not ask or argue. I gave him a cordial nod, but I was too distracted for conversation.

  “I will make certain your slave is returned to you,” he said good-naturedly.

  “I’ll wait.” I leaned against a block wall and folded my arms. The blocks were stone, fitted together precisely. The youth I’d once been knew exactly how it had been done.

  Tullius could easily drive me off, but he widened his grin. “A good slave is hard to come by. One doesn’t like to lose them.”

  “No.”

  Tullius seemed to enjoy my laconic answers. He gave me a salute and strolled away to resume his duties, chuckling as he went.

  The sun was setting by the time I spied Cassia walking sedately along the outside wall. She hadn’t exited by the main gate, which I had been glaring at, but a side door, probably shown out by the servants of the house.

  I pushed myself from the wall and strode to her, which earned me a surprised look.

  “I thought you’d have gone,” Cassia said as we started down the hill. “Or would be rushing to make certain Priscus was well.”

  “Not until he let you go.” I was relieved to see her palla was as neatly placed as ever, her face serene. “What happened?”

  “Nothing. He sang me several ballads, and we discussed them. When he grew bored, he rang for a servant who showed me out.”

  I released a breath. We tramped down the hill, skirting the Forum Romanum and its crowds. We moved past vendors and shops on the way to the base of the Quirinal, but when Cassia wanted to linger to look over wares, I pulled her on.

  I did not stop until we climbed up to our small apartment and I shut the door.

  After the lofty domus of Nero, the apartment felt tiny and closed in, but I preferred it. A small space I could call my own, where I could shut out the world, suited me better than soaring courtyards and vast fountains.

  Cassia unwound her cloak and hung it on its peg, adjusting her stolla on her shoulders. “If you are worried that Nero demanded I ... service him, he did not.” She cleared her throat, uncomfortable. “I believe he was happy to find an audience not impatient with his offering. And he is quite good.”

  “Is he?” The release of being home, with Cassia safe, on top of the shock of Floriana’s death, and Nero’s strange request that we look after Priscus, was making me sleepy again. It was a reaction I often had when faced with too many worries. “I thought the pieces long and tedious. The one in Greek I didn’t understand at all.”

  “He is skilled—has been well trained. I believe he’d be much happier as a musician than the princeps. The songs are complex and take a schooled ear to understand.”

  I sat down heavily on a stool and removed my sandals, which were full of grit. I wanted another bath.

  “And you have a schooled ear?”

  “My mistress sent a tutor to teach me music when I was very young, so that I could play and entertain the family. Made a savings on hiring musicians. The music master not only taught me to play but gave me lessons on music history and theory. Pythagoras and Aristotle and so forth. I found it fascinating.”

  I felt like a mongrel dog who’d been placed in a kennel with a well-bred hunter or a sleek, exotic cat. I wondered if our benefactor, whoever he might be, had planned this, and was amused by it.

  Instead of bathing or sleeping, I led Cassia to the Esquiline Hill to check on Priscus. He was home, Celnus told us when he came outside to speak to us, tending Decimus. Neither father nor son had been out since we’d returned from Ostia.

  Celnus refused to let us in, but he agreed with us that Priscus and Decimus should stay indoors and safe. Priscus himself hardly wanted to risk Decimus’s life again, Celnus said, and so was keeping his son home with him.

  Short of forcing my way in, I had to be satisfied with this. I bade Celnus not to let them stir, or to send for me to guard them if they insisted. Celnus answered with a curl of his lip, but I saw that he was worried enough to do so.

  When we reached home again, my fatigue swamped me, and I sought my bed. I noticed, as I laid down again, that my bed had grown more comfortable. I had a warmer blanket, a cushion for my head, and a small table on which to set a cup of wine.

  I was heavily asleep when Cassia yelped in fear.

  I came off my pallet as an intruder pushed his way past the door and had him by the neck in the matter of a few breaths. He poked a short sword into my ribs, the scratch stinging my skin.

  The next instant, he landed against the wall, and the sword was in my hand, aimed at his throat.

  Chapter 11

  “Leave off!” The man cried out in terror. “I’m only doing me job.”

  “Assassination?” I demanded.

  His dark eyes rounded. “Checking for fires.”

  I came to myself with a start. The young man in my grip wasn’t a Thracian gladiator ready to stab me in the heart, or a provacatur battling me to the death.

  He was one of the vigiles who swarmed Rome at night, on the lookout for fire, which was always a grave danger. They used their power to bully their way into houses as he had apparently bullied his way into mine.

  “No fires here,” I said in a hard voice. The only flame came from an oil lamp, which Cassia had just lit.

  The vigile gulped. “Well, I saw a flare. Thought there could be danger. Made the wine merchant open the door downstairs.”

  “And you’ve checked. Found that all is well.”

  “Yes.”

  I began to release him then looked him over sharply. “You were at Floriana’s. Outside her house, when she was sick.”

  The young man jolted, his face taking on a greenish tinge. “So? It’s on my patch.”

  A large patch, if it stretched from the Subura to the lower slopes of the Quirinal. I didn’t know exactly how the vigiles divided up their duties, so he could be telling the truth, but I remained skeptical.

  I shook him. “It was midmorning when I saw you.”

  “I was on my way home. Interested, wasn’t I?”

  His voice held defiance, but his terror was real. I couldn’t be certain whether that fear came from guilt at Floriana’s poisoning and death, or because a l
arge man had him by the throat.

  I eased my grip and allowed his feet to touch the floor, but I kept hold of the sword and steered him toward the open door.

  “If we have a fear about fire, we’ll summon you.”

  As the vigile teetered on the edge of the stairs, I let him go. He flailed then caught his balance and started downward.

  “Wait.”

  He peered back at me in concern. I handed him the sword, hilt first.

  The vigile grabbed it from me. I watched him debate whether to try to go at me with it then decide departing was the wisest course. He clattered down the steps, his boots noisy on the wood, then he was gone. The outer door slammed, and a breeze wafted up the stairs.

  I moved a shutter at the balcony and walked out into the cold night. The lane was quiet, no sound but the fast retreating footsteps of the vigile. Wagons clattered by on the Vicus Longinus not far away, but none ventured down this road.

  “He didn’t see a light.” Cassia stepped beside me. “I put it out hours ago.”

  I nodded grimly. “He came to see what we were doing.”

  “Out of curiosity?” Cassia let the question hang.

  “Maybe.” I ran my hand over my head. “Tomorrow, I will visit Priscus again.”

  I led the way inside and reset the shutters in place.

  “Good,” Cassia said as I led the way inside and reset the shutter in place. “I worry for him. Priscus is a kind man, for a paterfamilias. If not … perceptive.”

  “I like him,” I said.

  “As do I. The servants told me as we journeyed back that no one knows who kidnapped Decimus, including Decimus himself, or why. The thought is that the sailors were out-of-work mercenaries hired to snatch him. If Priscus knows who hired them, he’s not saying.”

  “Is he afraid someone will do it again if he tells?” I settled the final shutter in its slot. Our tiny lamp, in the shape of a woman holding a bowl, flickered in the darkness, the flame glowing on Cassia’s face.

  “Possibly,” she mused. “I wonder why he hasn’t taken Decimus off to a country villa to be protected by his own guards. Priscus has little reason to stay in Rome. He has clients who help look after his wife’s business interests. I imagine he’d be happier puttering around an estate garden.”

  If I had my own villa, I would sit in the sunshine every day, or walk along the shaded ambulatory, and learn to garden. I’d bring Cassia, and she could sing her complex ancient ballads beside a trickling fountain.

  The vision enticed me. An impossible one for a freedman and a slave who considered extra covers for the beds a luxury.

  I took to that bed after relocking the door and murmuring a good-night, seeking dreams of a secluded home, where none would stare at me but the birds.

  The dreams did not come, only darkness. In the morning, I woke to a rumbling voice on the stairs. Cassia retreated hurriedly to the balcony as a large man burst through the door. I’d bolted it after the vigile departed, but the wooden bar was flimsy. I would have to replace it.

  “Leonidas!”

  The shout filled the room. At one time, I’d respond with a hearty, Regulus! But his tone held no friendliness. It was early, perhaps the second hour, sunlight scarcely filtering into the narrow street outside.

  I rose from my pallet, pulling on my tunic, slipping feet into sandals that had been laid out by my bed.

  I said nothing as I walked from the alcove to face him. Regulus had said he’d kill me, and he might have come to do just that.

  Regulus was a Latium, a bit shorter than I was. His dark hair was shaved close, his brown eyes hard and intense.

  “So this is freedom.” Regulus glanced around the narrow room and slice of sunshine from the balcony. “Not much bigger than my cell.”

  Which had once been mine.

  “I don’t need a lot of space.”

  “No, Leonidas was always content with what he had, never wanting more. Ready to die in the games. So was I. Remember?”

  His glare pinned me. Regulus and I had been friends, not as close as I had been with Xerxes, but after Xerxes had fallen, I’d found refuge in bantering with Regulus. We’d shared triumphs, drink, stories, laughter.

  I saw none of that in the man who faced me, his rage pressed behind a wall of scorn.

  “Now you are the champion,” I said. “Stay alive and gain your freedom.”

  “Not if freedom means this.” Regulus swept his gaze over the barren room, the stools at the table, clothes on pegs, the wooden rudis on its shelf. “I thought you’d have seventeen women in here. Where are they?”

  He glanced under the table as though expecting to find a group of scantily clad dancers hiding there.

  “I preferred Lucia. She had to leave Rome.”

  “Huh.” Regulus transferred his gaze to me, his expression too knowing. “After Floriana was gutted. Some say you did that, Leonidas.”

  I eyed him in surprise and alarm. “Why would I kill Floriana?”

  “Everyone knows you owed her money and couldn’t pay. The arrogant primus palus, turned away by a madam. You were in the lupinarius when she took sick. When she didn’t die, you used a more direct method.”

  My alarm turned to impatience. “I brought Marcianus to the house to heal her. Why would I do that if I wanted her dead?”

  Regulus shrugged. “A blind. You had no way of knowing if Marcianus could save her. You could have hoped the poison too strong or that it had been too long inside her.”

  “I wasn’t in Rome when she was stabbed,” I pointed out. “I went to Ostia.”

  “How will anyone know that? She was killed in the early morning, about eight days ago now, in the fog. Body found when the fog cleared.”

  The wooden shutter scraped back, and Cassia ducked into the room from the balcony. Regulus started, then gave me a smirk. “You see? I knew the women were somewhere.”

  If he thought Cassia a promiscuous brothel slave, he’d be disappointed. She looked more like a domina with her hair in its tidy knot, her dress modest, baring as little skin as possible.

  Cassia opened a large wooden box and withdrew a stack of tablets and several scrolls. She opened the first tablet and scanned through the writing.

  “Leonidas left Rome seven mornings ago at the first hour.” She pointed to a line of text she’d written then touched a papyrus scroll. “I have the contract between him and a retired senator to escort him to Ostia. Leonidas left this house before the first hour and traveled directly to the gates, where he met the senator. He was not out of my sight or the senator’s or his servants’ from that hour forward. We returned to Rome four days after that.”

  Regulus listened with his mouth half open, his dazed expression almost comical. “Who is she?” he demanded. “Your council?”

  “Cassia. She keeps accounts for me.”

  “Accounts?” Regulus stared at me in bafflement. “Why did you buy a slave to keep accounts? I think you’ve slipped into madness, my old friend. No wonder you refused to kill me. Your mind has been stolen by the gods. I should feel sorry for you, I suppose.”

  I didn’t want to explain. A tale of an anonymous benefactor who’d procured Cassia for me, and this apartment, but provided no money would sound as mad as Regulus thought me. Let him speculate.

  He gave me a smile that hinted of our old camaraderie. “Or are you canny? A woman who keeps tally of expenses as well as warms your bed?”

  Regulus pivoted on his heel and stalked to Cassia. He looked her up and down then abruptly hauled her to him, planting his large hand on her breast.

  In the next instant, he was hanging in my grip, my wooden sword against his ribs. It was the closest weapon at hand, but if I wielded it hard enough, I could stab him to the bone.

  Regulus stared at me in incredulity, then his fury returned. “Go on, Leonidas. Do it. Kill me. As I asked you to.” His contempt rang. “In the arena, it would have been merciful. You’d have been praised for the win. Now it will be murder.” He pushed his face clo
se to mine. “And for that you’ll be executed. Torn to pieces.”

  The rage inside me wanted to drive the sword home. Regulus might once have been my friend, but I saw that he could be a dangerous enemy. His companionship had hidden the spark of cruelty I spied in him now, one that would spell death for those he fought.

  I withdrew the sword and shoved him from me at the same time. “Get out.”

  Regulus’s lip curled. He gave Cassia a leer, then he backed from me, keeping me in sight before he turned to plunge out the door and down the stairs.

  It satisfied me that I’d seen fear in him, the acknowledgment that I could still best him in a fight.

  Cassia let out a long breath as I faced her across the table she’d retreated behind, the rudis once again imprinting itself on my palm.

  This was the second time I’d saved her from being accosted, and I did not regret either event. Cassia was mine, and it was my duty to defend her. She was the entirety of my household, protected by me as its head.

  Her fingers shook as she closed the tablets and replaced them and the scrolls in the box. “Perhaps we had better find out what happened to Floriana. In case others think to accuse you.”

  “You have it written that I did not.” I gestured at the box with the rudis. I hadn’t understood what she’d meant when she’d said she’d keep records, but I admired her efficiency now.

  “Yes, but the word of a slave is worth nothing in court. Priscus would have to swear you were with him, but we can’t compel him to speak. He’s a former senator and a wealthy man, and we have no power to influence him.”

  Priscus, a man who’d proved to be kind, might speak for me, but at the moment he was preoccupied with his son, and he was in danger himself, if Nero was to be believed.

  My alarm began to rise again. If Regulus told others of his suspicions, I could well be arrested for Floriana’s murder. Why not take the retired gladiator who owed her money and was present when she was poisoned? Easier than hunting for a murderer who might have fled the city days ago.

  They’d send me back to the ludus, where I’d be fighting for my life once more, or this time, simply executed.