A Voice in the Wind (39 page)

As soon as Atretes heard the bar removed and the latch lifted, he slammed his way into the inn. “You owe me thirty aurei for the use of my name over your door!”

“Bank your fire,” retorted Pugnax, unintimidated. “You’ll have what I promised.” He was a solid man of Bato’s height and boasted a massive chest and arms. His hair was gray and cropped short, and he wore the rectangular piece of inscribed ivory around his neck that proclaimed him a freed gladiator. He grinned at Atretes’ surprise, and gaps showed where several teeth had been chipped or knocked out completely. “You should’ve brought a few more guards with you,” Pugnax said and glanced at Bato. “A good thing this pretty fellow can run so fast, eh, old friend?”

Bato laughed. “I’ve never seen him faster.”

“Sit down,” Pugnax said, and it sounded more an order than an invitation. He shoved Atretes toward the center of the room.

“You should have waited to put up your sign.” Atretes took a seat near the brazier to warm himself. He fingered his tattered tunic. “You owe me a new set of clothes.”

“Anything else, your lordship?” Pugnax said dryly.

“A decent meal and bed would improve his disposition,” Bato said. “And a woman, if one’s available.”

“I sent them all home.” Pugnax nodded toward a long table where a sizable picked-over feast was congealing. “As for food, that was laid out in his honor,” he said. He picked up a peach and tossed it to Atretes. “Eat it in good health. I promise you better the next time you come.”

“What makes you think I’d come back to this rat hole?”

“You like your cell so much better?” Pugnax mocked him. He grinned at Bato. “I think he’s afraid of a few women.” He laughed when Atretes rose from his chair, livid with rage.

“Sit down,” Bato commanded. “Pugnax was fighting men better than you before you were born.”

Pugnax laughed deeply. “Seeing him run reminded me of my own glory days. Remember the Ludi Apollinare, Bato? The women were after me that day.” His smile dimmed. “Everyone knew my name in those days.” He spread his arms. “Now, look what I have.”

“Freedom and property,” Bato said.

“Ha! Taxes and debts. I lived better when I was a slave.” He poured wine into three goblets, handed the first to Bato, the second to Atretes, then held up the third. “To the games,” he said and drank deeply.

Pugnax and Bato talked over their younger years. They relived their exploits in the arena, discussing the tactics of gladiators long since dead. Pugnax recounted several of his own battles and showed off the scars he had earned. “Emperor Nero gave me the wooden sword,” he said. “I thought it was the greatest day of my life. It wasn’t until later that I found my life was really over. What is left for a retired gladiator?”

“When I earn my freedom, I will return to Germania,” Atretes said. “Then my life will begin again.”

Pugnax gave Atretes a grim smile. “You don’t understand yet, but in time, you will. You’ll never be as alive as you are right now, Atretes, when you face death every day.”

Bato rose from his stool and said they had to head back before light. Pugnax gave Bato the pouch of aurei. He handed Atretes another tunic and cape to wear and slapped him on the back as they walked him to the door. “I’ll make the ladies line up proper next time,” he said, giving him a gap-toothed grin. “No more than two or three on you at a time.”

With the city gates closed to wagons and carts, the streets were quiet. While the citizenry slept, shopkeepers were busy storing the goods delivered during the night and laying out merchandise for the coming day.

“Pugnax is a fool,” Atretes said. “He is free. Why doesn’t he return to his homeland?”

“He tried, but he no longer belonged in Gaul. His wife was dead, his children adopted and raised by others. His people welcomed him for a while, but later avoided him. Pugnax was taken from Gaul a simple herdsman. He returned a warrior.”

“I was not a herdsman.”

“What is there for you in Germania? A young wife who holds your heart? Do you think she will wait ten years, maybe twenty for you to return to her?”

“I have no wife.”

“A village then? What’s left of it? Rubble and ash? Your people? Dead? Taken as slaves? Scattered? There’s nothing left for you in Germania.”

Atretes didn’t answer. The old futile rage filled him as he remembered all that was lost. Bato stopped at a baker’s stall and purchased bread. He tore off a hunk and offered it to Atretes. “There is nothing left for either of us, Atretes,” he said grimly. “I was a prince. Now I am a slave. But sometimes a slave of Rome lives better than a prince of a defeated country.”

They returned to the ludus in silence.

Caius Polonius Urbanus was the most handsome man Julia had ever seen. The first time she met him at Calabah’s, he had done nothing more than smile at her and take her hand, but she had felt almost faint from the rush of excitement that raced through her blood.

Now she looked at him across the room, and then at Calabah as she spoke to the women gathered there. This was what she wanted, where she wanted to be. True, her father had relaxed the restrictions he set on her, but it was not enough for Julia—especially when one condition of her father’s leniency was that she was not to visit Calabah. Far from giving in, Julia’s visits to Calabah increased. She simply lied about where she was going and with whom she was visiting, all the while being careful to give every appearance of following her father’s wishes. Thus she avoided the conflict—and the lecture—she would receive if her father knew she continued her friendship with Calabah.

Marcus didn’t approve of Calabah, either. In fact, he despised her. Thankfully, he was traveling in northern Italy on business and would be gone for several months. With him away, Father occupied with business, and Mother unaware of life beyond the walls of the villa, Julia could do as she wished. To be considered Calabah’s friend was a great honor and one that gave Julia a heightened sense of importance. Calabah made it clear to all who attended her that she favored Julia. Yet, Julia found Calabah’s gatherings nowhere near so diverting as Caius Polonius Urbanus.

Caius was often at Calabah’s villa, and Julia was in awe of his powerful, virile presence. He had only to look at her and her mind turned to forbidden thoughts. Octavia told her he was Calabah’s lover, but that bit of unwelcome information only added to his charisma. What sort of man could satisfy a woman like Calabah? Surely one far more male than any other. And if he belonged to Calabah, why did he stare at her? Then, too, there was the fact that Octavia was obviously smitten with the man—a fact that only spurred Julia’s interest in Caius.

Even now, his dark eyes teased and caressed Julia until she longed to escape the tumultuous feelings he aroused in her. She fanned herself and tried to concentrate on Calabah’s diatribe, but her mind kept wandering to the most sensuous thoughts. Caius rose from his couch. As he came toward her, her body flooded with warm tingling. Her heart beat so fast and hard she feared he would hear it.

Caius smiled slightly as he sat down on her couch. He could see she was nervous and half-frightened; her innocence drew and excited him. “You agree with everything Calabah says?”

“She’s brilliant.”

“No wonder she likes you.”

“You don’t think she’s brilliant?”

“Indeed, she is far ahead of her time,” he said. As they talked about Calabah’s ideas, Caius realized how little Julia really knew Calabah. He could tell Calabah’s young friend was limited in her perception of those outside her world, and, of course, Calabah only revealed what she wanted people to see. She was shrewd. Caius had no doubt Calabah had plans for the young Valerian, but he didn’t know what they entailed. He did know Calabah never groomed anyone without a purpose, and she was drawing Julia into her inner circle, treating her with a warmth that roused jealousy in others of longer acquaintance.

“I would think Octavia more to your liking, Calabah,” he had said to her the other evening, mindful of the fact that he had begun pursuing Octavia as a diversion. “She’s pliable.”

But Calabah wouldn’t be drawn. She merely smiled secretively and pointed out the practical aspects of why he should think about pursuing Julia. “Her family has money and position, Caius. They have no real political connections, except through Marcus’ friend Antigonus. You will remember he gained a position in the curia a year ago. A liaison with her might do you good.”

“If Marcus Valerian disapproves of you, I hardly think he would approve of one of your discarded lovers.”

She laughed at his sardonic humor. “I haven’t discarded you, Caius. I’ve freed you. You know very well you were becoming restless. Have you noticed the way Julia looks at you?”

His mouth curved in a predatory smile. “How could I not? She’s quite delectable.” Changing his attention from Octavia to Julia Valerian would not be a difficult task.

“Julia’s family could be quite helpful to you.”

“Trying to get rid of me, Calabah? Did I frighten you the other evening with my passion?”

“I’ve never been frightened of anything, Caius, least of all a man. But what excites you doesn’t excite me. I’m trying to be generous and think of what’s best for a dear, dear friend. I’m not the woman for you, Caius. I think Julia Valerian is.”

Caius knew Calabah never did anything without ulterior motives, and he wondered now why she was so ready to hand him one of her lovely young followers like an offering on an altar. He was intrigued.

“What do you know about her?”

“Watch her at the games. She has depths of passion no one even suspects. Not even Julia herself. For you, she is unbroken ground just waiting for the till. She’s hungry for life. Plant whatever seeds you desire, Caius, and watch them grow.”

Calabah was never wrong about people. He watched Julia with new interest. She was young and beautiful. She attended Calabah’s gatherings in secret, which meant she acted in disobedience to her parents and brother. She was also bored by tedious intellectualism and was dying for excitement, a heady combination when Caius could give her more excitement than she could even imagine. He had felt desire grow as he watched her, knowing she felt his perusal. She looked at him and he smiled. Her lips parted softly, and he almost felt the heat of her reaction across the room.

She was attracted by him, but she didn’t accost him as Octavia did, nor brood like Glaphyra, nor pretend indifference like Olivia. Julia Valerian looked at him with unveiled curiosity. When he looked back at her, she waited expectantly rather than playing coy games like the others.

Caius wanted to see if Calabah was right about her. He wanted to see how far she would go.

“Walk with me in the garden,” he said.

“Would Calabah approve?” she said, blushing, though the darkness in her eyes was promising.

“Do you need Calabah’s permission to do as you wish? Perhaps we should test the sincerity of her philosophical outlook. Doesn’t she say a woman must make her own decisions, take her happiness from where it emanates, create her own destiny?”

“I am her guest.”

“Not her slave. Calabah admires a woman with a mind of her own. One who takes what she wants.” He ran his hand lightly up her arm. Her skin was warm beneath the soft wool of her pale yellow palu§. He heard her soft inhalation and felt the telltale tension of her body. He smiled into her doe brown eyes. “Oh, and you, sweet Julia, want to take the bull by the horns, don’t you? Come out into the garden and see what magic we make together.”

Color swept her cheeks again.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Why not?” he whispered back, teasing her. He saw she was too embarrassed to say, and said it for her. “Calabah might become jealous and then you wouldn’t be welcome here again.”

“Yes,” she said.

“You can rest easy. I’m only one of Calabah’s many diversions. We have an understanding.”

Julia frowned slightly. “You’re not in love with her?”

“No,” he said simply and leaned down until his lips were almost against her ear and whispered. “Come out into the garden with me, so we can be alone and talk.”

The darkness of his eyes held a frightening passion, but still she wanted to go with him. She relished the swirling heat that flooded her and the rush of blood through her veins. His touch made her forget where she was even as her mind warned her there was something dark and hidden about him. She didn’t care. A sense of danger only made her excitement that much greater. But still, she worried over Calabah. She didn’t want to offend her and make a powerful enemy.

She looked at her and saw that Calabah had noticed Caius’ defection. For the briefest instant, Julia felt a wave of some powerful emotion flooding from Calabah’s being, and then it was gone. She was smiling as though to encourage them. Julia saw no sign of jealousy or even annoyance darken those mysterious eyesor harden the serene features. Julia gave her a half-pleading, half-questioning look.

“Julia needs a breath of fresh air, Caius. Would you escort her into the garden?” she said, and Julia felt relief bursting inside her, which was replaced by a wave of heat as Caius took her hand and said it would be his pleasure.

“So you received her blessing,” he said as they went outside. “Come over here under the arbor.”

When Caius took her in his arms, Julia stiffened instinctively. Then he kissed her and the rush of pleasure drowned all resistance. His hands were strong, and she melted against him. When he drew back slightly, she was weak and trembling.

“With me, you’ll feel things you never dreamed you could feel,” Caius said hoarsely and grew bolder. Some small cry of conscience rose within her at the liberties he was taking.

“No,” she gasped softly. “You mustn’t touch me like that.”

Caius only laughed softly and pulled her back. He kissed her again, silencing her protest and inflaming her passion.

Julia spread her hands against the fine wool of his toga and felt the firm ridges of muscles beneath. The brush of his spice-scented breath raised goose bumps along the curve of her neck. She moaned softly, helplessly, as he kissed her again.

He was hurting her, but Julia didn’t care.