The Champion (14 page)

F
our days later, Alexius prowled his chamber, waiting for Tibi. His ribs ached. The sutures holding his side together pulled and itched until he thought he’d go insane.

An hour earlier, Velus had delivered his midday meal, but the fried clams and mix of boiled vegetables appealed to him as much as a plate of worms.

Since his injury, he’d rested as he promised, but he longed to get back to the field. The endless inactivity wore him down more than any wound ever could. The empty hours left him with too much time to ponder his past and the underlying blackness of his present.

Tibi was his one ray of light. As she’d promised, she did her best to keep his mind off his confinement. She’d read to him from Homer’s texts. Her Greek was atrocious, but he found her attempts to give each character a different voice amusing. And after realizing that the legendary Jason hailed from Alexius’s hometown, she acted out the tale of the prince’s quest for the Golden Fleece. He chuckled remembering her disgust for Jason’s fickleness when he left the fair Medea for the Corinthian princess, Glauce.

Last night, they’d discussed politics over dinner. Not
his favorite subject, but the play of candlelight on Tibi’s lovely face and her passionate defense of the recent uprising in
Dacia
had kept him entranced. Too interested in using the opportunity to discover the subtleties of Tibi’s personality, he didn’t remember much of what he’d said. He hoped he sounded intelligent as they debated the options open to Emperor Domitian to rectify the state of affairs. If not, Alexius reasoned, he could always blame the pain medicine he was supposed to be taking.

Of even more interest to Tibi, he’d found, was the fact that the Empress Domitia had recently returned to the palace after a year of exile. “It’s because the emperor loves her,” Tibi had said. “He must have been terribly lonely without her.”

Alexius had choked on the lemon water he’d been drinking. He’d heard gossip of a far different reason for Domitia’s return, but he found Tibi’s optimistic belief in love too sweet to disillusion her.

When he finally heard the even gait of Tibi’s sandals in the corridor, he rushed to his couch as fast as his damaged ribs would let him. He pulled the furs up to his chest and did his best to look pathetic.

She knocked on the door frame.

“Come in,” he called, sounding sleepy.

“Did I wake you?” She crossed the threshold. A cheerful smile curved her lips as she walked toward him. She’d pulled her hair back from her face and braided the soft strands into a long blond ribbon down her back. The unadorned tunic she wore matched the dark brown of her eyes and set off the creamy smoothness her skin.

By the gods, he wanted to leap up, pull her into his
arms and kiss her. Instead, he shook his head. “I’ve been waiting for you. Where have you been?”

“On the archery field, just as I was supposed to be.”

“You should have been here with me,” he said in a moody tone he didn’t have to pretend. He stretched, not enough to hurt himself, but enough to make him wince—a trick he’d learned to snare her into touching him.

Sure enough, she placed her palm on his brow. He relaxed, instantly less agitated.

“Your fever is all gone,” she said with unfeigned relief.

As expected, he’d suffered a fever the day after his injury. No worse than other times he’d been wounded, the boiling heat had consumed his whole body within hours of receiving his stitches. He’d been delighted that she stayed with him through the night, cooling his brow with moist cloths and holding his hand.

He realized that he was enjoying her care much too much. He couldn’t seem to help himself. In the past, his admirers had clung to and clucked over him because they wanted compensation in one form or another. He’d been eager for them to leave him be. Tibi wanted nothing, or so it seemed. The more time she spent with him, the more he craved her presence.

“You were worried about me, weren’t you?” He knew she had been, but he wanted to hear her admit it.

“Not a bit. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Liar.” He closed his eyes as she brushed back his hair with gentle fingertips.

She laughed and sat beside him. “Naturally, I’ve been very concerned about you. I’m your friend, after all. Besides, where else am I supposed to go if you get yourself killed?”

“That’s the
only
reason?” he asked, growing sleepy from the comb of her fingers through his hair.

“I guess not. I have my reputation to consider as well.”

He opened one eye and peered at her. “Your reputation?”

“Mmm…I’m considered enough of a menace as it is. Think how the gossips will crucify me if my host ends up dead while I’m here.”

He settled deeper under his furs and scratched his stitches. “You’re a wicked girl, Tiberia.”

“Tiberia?” She grimaced. “That’s my sister. No one ever calls me by my full name unless I’m in serious trouble.”

“Then I’m surprised you’re ever called Tibi at all.”

She swatted his shoulder and he moaned as though she’d stabbed him. A smile in her eyes, she shook her head at him and started to rise from the sleeping couch. He caught her hand to keep her close.

“I missed you,” he said, all humor gone. “Don’t be late again.”

“I told you I was on the field. The men are taking quite well to their lessons. The time got away from me.”

He leaned his head back against his pillows and tamped down his annoyance. His day didn’t start until she arrived. He spent the hours she was gone wishing for her return, while she obviously preferred to be somewhere else. He needed to get back on his feet before he made a habit of waiting around for her like some pathetic, forlorn puppy.

“Perhaps I should make all my instructors women. To keep the men interested in their training.”

“That’s not a bad idea. The tactic seems to work,” she remarked, refusing to let him bait her. She trailed
her fingers from his grasp and inspected his untouched meal. “Why haven’t you eaten?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Let me rephrase. You
need
to eat to regain your strength.”

“I’m strong enough.”

“Don’t be petulant.” She smiled to take the sting from her words. “What if I fetch you some fresh food? If you eat it all, I’ll reward you with another game of
latrunculi
. I’ll even let you win this time.”

He glared at her profile. Was she serious? Or had she somehow discovered that he was desperate enough to be with her to be reduced to playing board games. “Are you mocking me, Tibi?”

“Not mocking.” She covered his untouched plate with a warming dome. “Teasing, perhaps, but I’d never mock an injured man.”

He uttered a disbelieving snort.

She faced him. “Especially a man in such dire straits that he squanders the time he’s supposed to be sleeping by prowling in his chamber like a prisoner.”

“Velus!” he hissed. “What did that old goat tell you?”

“Don’t blame your steward. He makes excuses for you. Do you think I’m so deaf I can’t hear you shuffling about in here when I’m walking in the corridor right outside?” She pinned disappointed eyes on him. “You have stitches, Alexius. If you’re not careful, you’ll rupture them. Not to mention cause more damage to your ribs.”

“This isn’t my first bout with cracked ribs or sutures, Tibi. I usually have one or the other most of the time. I know how to live with them. Besides…I was out of
bed because
you
were late,” he defended. “You’re supposed to keep me entertained.”

She burst out laughing. “Underneath all that handsome brawn, you’re still a little boy who wants to be coddled by his loving mama and six long-suffering sisters, aren’t you?”

“No,” he muttered, soothed somewhat by the fact that she admitted to finding him handsome. “I don’t like my agreements broken.”

She sat down on the chair beside the sleeping couch. “Does it really mean that much to you to have me here?”

With other women, he might be leery of a trap, but not with Tibi. He decided to see if honesty got him anywhere with her. “From the instant you leave, I start counting the moments until you return to me again.”

Her expression softened, but there was an underlying wariness, too. “You have to know any woman would be touched to hear those lovely words, but please don’t toy with me, Alexius. What of Livia? If she were here, would you tell her the same thing?”

He pulled back, fast enough to jolt his ribs. “Livia? Livia who?”

Her tenderness fled, replaced by anger. She stood. “Livia
who?
Livia Marciana, that’s who. I know you have a reputation as a user of women, but exactly what kind of man are you? I saw you kiss Livia in the herb garden during the party last week and I know she stayed here that same night. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten her so soon.”

Never one to fight lying down, Alexius pushed off his furs and rose slowly to his feet. He’d seen Tibi annoyed, irritated and miffed, but never truly angry. Quick to realize something nefarious had happened
behind his back, he ignored the insult in her accusation and focused on the reality that she cared enough about him to be upset.

Even better, she chose not to harbor what troubled her and sought out the truth.

“Tell me what happened from the beginning, Tibi. What exactly did you see?”

Her lips pressed into a tight line. “I saw you at the party with all those…those harpies. I went for some air in the herb garden. I saw a woman order a slave to molest her, then try to paint one of your men as the culprit. The light was dim. I didn’t see the schemer’s face and I didn’t know she was Livia until her performance with you a short time later.”

“When you saw her kiss me.”

She nodded.

“The kiss made you angry? Jealous?”

Her whole body went stiff. “I was very…disappointed in you for believing her and for surrounding yourself with such devious company.”

“I didn’t believe her,” he said, angry enough at Livia to want to strangle the conniving wench. “I ordered her home and barred her from coming into my house again.”

She chewed on her bottom lip. Her eyes fumed with hostility. “I’m sorry, but I can’t believe you. I saw her in the central garden before sunrise the next morning.”

Too furious to defend himself, he made his way to the door and into the hallway. “Velus!” The bellow sent a sharp jab through his ribs. “Get up here. We have some lies to unravel.”

Too angry to look at him any longer, Tibi turned her back on Alexius and stared out the wide bank of windows.

Whether or not it was her imagination, the air seemed heavy and unseasonably warm.

She wished she’d never touched on the subject of Livia. No matter that learning the truth was always best, one way or the other. Her show of temper embarrassed her and the display of jealousy did little to support her claim that she was solely interested in Alexius for his friendship.

Although able to see the archery field from her current vantage point, the grassy stretch was empty except for the row of targets. To keep from having to converse with Alexius, she focused on the trainees learning how to wield a trident and net in the center of the gladiators’ sandy arena.

“Master?” Velus said.

She turned around to see the steward’s sheepish entrance into the room.

Alexius rubbed his ribs. She knew he must be in a great deal of pain. He reached for the injured spot more and more often. She was angry with him, but his refusal to take his need for rest seriously still concerned her. He claimed he was used to the pain of stitches and battered bones, but the damage had to have time to heal properly—no matter how stubbornly the wounded believed to the contrary.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Alexius told his steward. “Since you know everything that goes on in this house, I’m thinking you might be able to help us figure out the problem.”

“If I can.” The dwarf wrung his small thick hands.

“My guest believes Livia Marciana stayed with me the night of the party last week.”

The steward studied his feet.

“However,” Alexius continued, “I distinctly recall ordering you to send that witch back to her cave.”

“I can explain.”

“I thought you might.” Alexius sent a speaking glance to Tibi before refocusing on his steward. “What happened? Did you disobey my orders?”

“Yes,” Velus admitted. He wiped a stream of sweat from his temple. “But for a good reason. Please take pity on me.”

Uneasy with the steward’s obvious distress, Tibi stepped forward. Although her interest in the story was keen, she didn’t need Velus put on trial when he seemed eager to admit the full truth.

“Velus,” she said before Alexius continued with his interrogation. “I’m sorry. This mess is my fault. I think I must have made a mistake.”

“No, my lady, the fault is mine. I disobeyed and didn’t confess because I thought I wouldn’t get caught.”

“Let that be a lesson to you.” Alexius scowled. “How often do you go behind my back?”

Tibi intervened. “He claims to have a good reason. Will you give him a chance to explain?”

Alexius invited him to proceed with a wave of his hand.

“I went to do as the master ordered.” Velus avoided Alexius and spoke to Tibi. “I found Livia working her wiles on Senator Basilius. I told her she’d been ordered to leave, but she refused to go. While I stood there, she offered the senator a thousand
denarii
toward his campaign for consul and the support of all her patrons if he’d take her part to make me let her stay. He agreed and threatened to cause the master problems if I forced the widow to go.”

“What sort of problems?” Alexius interjected in a tone sharp enough to cut.

“I don’t know for certain,” Velus admitted. “He implied that he’d make sure other gladiator schools received the best contracts.”

“Nonsense,” Alexius scoffed. “He was trying to intimidate you.”

“Most likely. It was late, master. Since you’d retired to your room, I didn’t see the harm in letting her stay and avoiding all potential problems. I found her a chamber downstairs, delivered the wine she ordered and sent her on her way early the next morning.”