Gladiator Heart (24 page)

Valeria needed something to drink, something to take away the cold and the fear. She was still running from the darkness that threatened to overtake her. She’d killed a man. Her future husband.

She was a whore, and a murderer and a liar.

But oddly, she didn’t feel like one. She’d only wanted to protect herself, to live her life as she pleased, and the whole world and all of the Gods were against her.

Lucia brought her to a stop in front of the great hearth in the kitchen, and Valeria sighed with relief when the warmth seeped out to her. It would feel good to get dry.

“Tell me what happened,” Lucia demanded, using that sharp, motherly tone she was so practiced at, while at the same time her brown eyes glowed with warmth and love.

“I got caught in the storm.” Valeria sniffled, avoiding her gaze.

She had to lie to Lucia. The sin for Gaius was on her shoulders alone, and she could bear it. What could be worse than this? She felt ashamed when a small part of her hoped Gaius was dead. He might be horrible, but she didn’t wish the end for anyone. Especially not by her hands.

“The palace isn’t far away enough for you to be so abused by a storm.” Lucia was studying her, searching her eyes.

“I got lost outside the city.” Not a lie.

In her panicked escape from Gaius’s villa, she’d taken a wrong turn on the road at first and had to waste time to double back.

That bad sense of direction got her every time.

The servant girl came into the kitchen carrying a blanket and handed it to Lucia. She wrapped it around Valeria’s shoulders to warm her.

“What were you doing outside the city?” Lucia plucked a few leaves from her hair.

Valeria recognized that casual tone, the one Lucia used when she was digging for the truth but didn’t want a person to know it. She always knew when something was wrong and she’d keep on until she got some answers.

“Crispus and I enjoyed a tour of Gaius Cato’s country villa this morning.” Her sarcasm was not lost on Lucia.

Lucia raised a questioning brow. “Am I to assume the tour didn’t end well?”

Valeria nearly choked at her words. It most certainly did not end well.

She released a despairing sigh. “I need a drink.”

“Gaia!” Lucia snapped at her favored servant. “Get the Domina some water.”

“No,” Valeria stopped her. “Some wine. No water.”

“You need to have some water first.” She combed her fingers through Valeria’s hair to work out some of the tangles.

“I practically drowned on my way over here. I’ve had enough water. I need a real drink!”

Valeria suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe, she got dizzy, her hands started shaking. She was either going to be sick, or she was going to come flying apart at any moment. She’d killed a man. What was she supposed to do?

“Didn’t Gaius offer to let you stay at his home until the storm passed?” Lucia narrowed her eyes harshly. “Any good man would have.”

Valeria laughed in spite of herself. If only the woman knew. “Gaius is not a good man.”

Lucia handed her a cup of wine. “Did he do this to you?”

Valeria took a long, greedy sip of the wine to calm her nerves before she lied. “I wanted to walk home to get some exercise, and he’s a busy man with such a big estate to look after that he didn’t mind. I hadn’t expected to get caught in a storm.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Lucia warned, frowning with disapproval. “Did Gaius assault you?”

“Is it so hard to believe I got caught in the storm?” Valeria took another long sip of wine.

The lie was not working and her grip on reality was slipping right through her hands. She was about to go mad for good this time, and suspected the Gods would be happy because they’d driven her to it.

Murderer
.

It was the only word echoing in her mind as Lucia surveyed her with a grim look.

“How did your clothes get torn?”

An image of Gaius ripping her stola with determined hands flashed through her mind. “I fell and got caught up in some bushes.”

Lucia folded her arms over her chest and fixed a firm stare on her. “How did you get the bruises around your neck?”

Gaius had choked her so hard he’d left marks? She chewed on her lower lip and tried to think of an explanation. “My cape got caught up on a branch and nearly choked me to death.”

“Where is your cape?”

In Gaius’s bedroom. “It was stuck on the tree so I left it.”

Lucia let out an exasperated breath. “If you won’t tell me the truth, how can I help you?”

Valeria finished her wine and set the empty cup next to the hearth. “If you want to help me, I need fresh clothes so I can go to the games.”

“How long do you intend to put yourself at risk for this gladiator?”

“I made a promise, Lucia. I have to find a way to free him.”

“There’s more to this than a promise.”

“Don’t worry, he hates me so this can’t go anywhere.” Valeria had to let go of her feelings for Tristan. It was never meant to be. If Gaius was dead, she’d be tried for murder, and if he wasn’t, he’d kill her himself. She had no future.

“Come with me,” Lucia said, putting an arm around her waist and hugging her close. “Let’s go upstairs and get you cleaned up. Rufus will come for us when the games are ready to start.”

Valeria was relieved Lucia wasn’t pestering her with more questions. She was on the verge of telling her the truth, but what good would it do? She didn’t want to involve anyone in the mess she’d created, and in time the truth would reveal itself anyway. It had a funny way of doing that.

The cells in the ludus were busy with the sounds of men preparing for battle. Some sharpened their weapons or polished their armor. Others warmed their muscles with physical exercise. Tristan sat on his cot, elbows braced on his knees, hands folded, waiting to be taken to the arena.

He liked to spend this time with his thoughts, reflecting on his life. Every trip to the arena could be his last and he wanted to die with a clear conscience, not a heart heavy with guilt. He’d even come to terms with his feelings for Valeria. Roman or not, the passionate nights they’d shared in his tent had nothing to do with where they came from and everything to do with who they were. Still, he’d been reminded of a lesson where women were concerned.

Take pleasure from many, but love none.

“Got another delivery for you.” Quintus walked through the open cell door, his old man’s arms weighted down by a load of shiny new armor and weapons.

Tristan sighed. Would these ridiculous gifts never stop coming?

“There’s a letter, too.” The old man dumped the pile next to him on the cot in a clatter of racket. “Want me to read it?”

“I’m not sure.” Tristan scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face.

The letters were suggestive enough to make both of the men blush with embarrassment. He could understand and speak Latin, but he couldn’t read or write the language, so the old man had to read the letters that accompanied these gifts.

“This one comes from Aurelia Tiburius,” Quintus announced. “She’s a senator’s wife.”

It disturbed him that married women should behave so shamefully. Their gifts always came with conditions.

Quintus cleared his throat and read the letter. “To the gladiator Decimus. Your strength and prowess in the arena have left an impression on me. I wonder what titillating skills you would bring to the sport of love. Please accept these weapons and armor as a token of my admiration. In exchange, I should like to experience a night of your unbridled, amorous affections. It is a secret fantasy of mine to be ravaged by a man as wild and ferocious as you, and to feel your hard—”

“Enough.” Tristan cut him off.

He didn’t want to hear anymore. The letters were all the same. From some noble woman who wanted to be ravished by a savage. Were they truly that bored with their lives?

Tristan was tired of people thinking of him in those terms. He was more civilized than half the citizens in Rome. A northerner and a Pict he might be, but he had some standards of decency and respect, which was more than he could say for the woman who had sent this bribe.

“Are you sure you don’t want to hear the rest?” Quintus gave him an infectious grin. “I was just getting to the good part.”

Tristan laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, while the old man seemed to genuinely enjoy reciting the propositions. “I’ve heard all I need to hear. Send it back.”

“Won’t you even consider the offer?” Quintus asked, surprised that Tristan always refused them. “I’ve seen the senator’s wife. She’s very beautiful.”

“She’s a married woman who should not be straying from her husband’s bed.”

Quintus never argued with him. He gathered the load back into his arms and made to leave. “Do you want to keep the letter at least?”

“Send it all back!” Tristan commanded. “These are not gifts, but payments in exchange for services I won’t offer. I will not become a whore for Rome.”

Quintus scurried out of his cell, the armor clanking loudly as he went down the corridor.

“You don’t get half as many offers as I do.” Angus leaned against the side of his door and crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Are you sure we can’t accept one or two?”

“You can do whatever you like.” Tristan knew it was a big temptation for Angus. His friend always had two things on his mind, food and women.

“It wouldn’t be fair for me to have new armor and all these amazing weapons when you only get what the ludus provides.” Angus broke into a teasing grin.

“Do you really want to be used by a married woman?” Tristan couldn’t understand. “Do you not find it degrading that they even make the offer?”

“If a woman is so in need of my excellent services I’m happy to oblige her.”

“What if her husband finds out?” Tristan lifted an inquisitive brow. “Do you think he’ll be forgiving of such a transgression?”

Angus chuckled shamelessly. “I’ve had a few experiences with that before. It’s something I try to avoid.”

“These gifts bear nothing but trouble,” Tristan warned.

These noble women played with their lives. They didn’t care what happened to the gladiators, didn’t care if they lived or died. They thought only of themselves.

“You’re right, my friend,” Angus agreed. “But aren’t you even curious about what these Roman women are like in bed?”

Tristan knew what one of them was like, and she didn’t send bribes and offers for tawdry sex.

“Do what you want,” he said. “Just be careful.”

“Well, now you’ve gone and taken all the fun out of it.” Angus pushed away from the door and uncrossed his arms. “Shall we go see what weapons are left?”

“Yes, let’s go.” Tristan stood and joined his friend.

It would be nice to have his own weapons instead of picking through what the ludus made available to them, but he’d made up his mind. He would not lend himself out to gain favor. Tristan would earn his rewards with honest effort. Just like he always had.

Valeria had just tripled her bet. The games today had been unusually bloody, much to the crowd’s enjoyment, but she hardly noticed what was happening in the arena unless Tristan was out there. All she could see otherwise was the blood from Gaius’s head spreading out on the tiled floor of his atrium.

She’d only been trying to get away from him. He’d nearly raped her and had gotten what he deserved. Yet death seemed a rather harsh punishment when the man had every right to her as her future husband. What would she do if he was dead? Even worse, what would she do if he was alive? Her thoughts vacillated back and forth so much it was making her dizzy.

The roar of the crowd assaulted her ears as the citizens of Rome cheered for their courageous gladiators. The winners for the day were gathered in the center of the arena to receive praises from their fans. Valeria sat in the citizen section of the stands between Rufus and Lucia. Rufus had gotten in early and secured seats in the third row. When she complained about not being up front, he said the front row wasn’t safe because her cousin might recognize her. It was better to blend in with the crowd.

He was right of course, and she’d had a good view of the games. Tristan and Angus fought with skill and honor, never showing a hint of fear, and they were quickly gaining the favor of the crowd. Atilla was still the favorite, the champion, because he was practically invincible. None had ever defeated him, and Valeria was glad Tristan would never have to fight him. It wasn’t good practice to pit gladiators in the same ludus against each other since a good fighter was hard to come by.

“If your northerner keeps winning, we might have to invest in permanent seats,” Lucia said as they made their way out of the arena.

“I don’t want to see Tristan here for that long.” Valeria still had no idea how she was going to get him out of the arena. Maybe if she made enough money betting on him she could purchase his freedom.

“Gladiators can stay in the ludus for years,” Rufus told her. “Once you’re wed to Gaius, you’ll have to give all this up.”

The tightening feeling in her chest started and she had a difficult time breathing. She wouldn’t be marrying Gaius if he was dead.

“Don’t mention that man’s name in my presence,” Lucia snapped.

“What is so wrong with Gaius?” Rufus wondered, looking at each of them in confusion.

Valeria brought her hand up to the blue silk sash she’d wrapped around her throat to cover the bruises.

“I have my suspicions about him,” Lucia replied coolly. “He’s not good enough for our girl.”

“No one will be good enough.” Rufus offered her a warm smile. “It’s not up to us to decide.”

“Can we not talk about this?” Valeria pushed ahead of them to make her way across the arena to the holding cells.

“Where are you going now?” Lucia called after her.

“I want to see Tristan.” She didn’t even have to talk to him, she just wanted to get a close look at him, to see if he was well.

Rufus and Lucia exchanged worried glances. They both knew Valeria’s obsession with the man was going to land her in trouble. Rufus thought Lucia agreed with him that seeing her married to Gaius Cato would be the best thing for the girl, and now Lucia appeared to have changed her mind on that.
Women
. He’d never figure them out. He’d been sharing Lucia’s bed for the past twenty years and he still couldn’t convince her to marry him. The nobles had it easy with their arranged marriages. Free men had to work extra hard to gain what they wanted.