“Oh yes. You can see him there playing dice in the corner of… Oh no. Not again,” Leta hissed.
Tibi looked up to see the maid drop the shutter’s slat back into place. “What is it?”
The usually sanguine maid turned grim. “Senator Basilius is here for the second time in one day.”
Tibi tensed. She headed for the window to see her brother-in-law’s rival.
“Do you know the swine?” Leta asked.
“Not personally,” she said, wondering at the younger girl’s vehemence. “I take it you do?”
“I was his slave until two years ago.” There was a wealth of meaning in the short explanation.
“I’m sorry,” Tibi said, understanding far better than the maid probably gave her credit for.
Leta shrugged. “Master Alexius rescued me. He’s allowing me to work off my slave price. If the gods will it, I’ll be free by June.”
Pleased for Leta, Tibi couldn’t help feeling a pang of envy for the other girl when gaining her own freedom was an impossibility.
The jaunty notes of a kithara had replaced the more refined melody of a flute by the time she folded back one of the shutters to peer down into the courtyard. Lanterns had been lit along the garden’s paths, giving the rectangular area a warm, golden glow. The splash of the fountains and the sweet smell of incense lent the night a sultry air. Low-cushioned couches covered in a dark shade of crimson surrounded circular tables laden with large platters of food. Laughing diners reclined and fed one another from the rich fare.
“There’s the senator. Over there by that large potted palm,” Leta whispered, pointing with her index finger.
“Yes, I recognize him,” Tibi said, although her eyes were scanning the scene for Alexius with an immediacy she feared must be improper. “Your master and I saw him at an eating establishment after we left the Coliseum yesterday.”
“I wonder why he’s here.”
Tibi found Alexius, and a dozen men she recognized as gladiators she’d met at the arena the day before, mingling with twenty or so guests on the far side of the courtyard. Dressed in a light gray tunic with a wide, black belt, the silver wristbands he favored and black leather sandals that laced up to his knees, her Greek personified raw power and masculine strength. She found it easy to understand why the female populace favored him. Her own heart raced a little faster each time she saw him until sometimes she feared it might burst from her chest.
“Don’t you?”
“Don’t I what?” Tibi murmured distractedly.
“Wonder why the senator has come tonight.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Basilius heading straight for Alexius. Velus appeared in the doorway left of the garden. Tibi watched the steward take in the scene and march straight for Basilius. The older man tried to bypass the dwarf, but obviously indifferent to the arrogance of powerful men, Velus prevailed in his subtle but tenacious bid to redirect the senator in the opposite direction.
Tibi sighed in relief. Her loyalty remained with her brother-in-law. “Most likely the senator’s here to convince Alexius to promote him to the mob. From what Alexius explained to me, the emperor chooses consul candidates in large part due to their popularity with the masses.”
She glanced at the maid, wondering why Leta had gone uncharacteristically silent. “But then, I could be wrong.”
“I doubt you are. I hope the master isn’t taken in and casts him out on his head.”
Tibi hoped so, too, but the senator’s prompt ejection from the party wasn’t likely. After their disagreement yesterday, Alexius was too savvy to court Basilius’s disfavor. He believed the old man was likely to win the consulship and he wouldn’t fare well if he’d openly rejected the cunning senator.
Troubled by the political intrigues unfolding in front of her, Tibi considered contacting her brother-in-law with the information, but she couldn’t do that without confirming her location. She would just have to try to help her family by convincing Alexius not to support Basilius.
The music and dull roar of conversation filled the garden. Her gaze slid back to Alexius. He and two other men were surrounded by a pack of painted women dressed in low-cut tunics and dripping with jewels. His dark head was tipped back as he laughed. An admirer in a fashionable blond wig and bloodred stola moved to his side. She wrapped her arm around his back with a familiarity that made Tibi grind her teeth. She willed him to push the flirt away, but he pulled the woman close with casual ease.
“Who is the bold one?” Tibi asked without thinking.
“Cassandra Lupa. She’s a she wolf who used to be very close to the master. She scorned him for a wealthy wine merchant last year. Now that she’s newly divorced, she wants him back in her clutches.”
Jealousy pinched Tibi hard. All her life she’d regretted being female and sought to be more like the son her father always pined for. But in that moment she yearned to be more feminine, a siren who stunned Alexius and ruined him for all other women.
His arm draped over the she wolf’s slim shoulders, Alexius toyed with the gold bauble dangling from her ear as he continued his animated conversation. Cassandra rubbed Alexius’s back, filling Tibi’s stomach with queasy distress. Hating the way her heart ached, she dragged her gaze from the byplay and moved from the window. She grabbed her palla off a hook on the back of the door and left the room.
“Shall I come with you?” Leta called from the doorway.
Tibi waved her back. “No, I won’t be gone long.”
Without considering where she was headed, she hastened along the corridor, down the back stairs and, careful to avoid the gathering in the central courtyard, out into the herb garden on the northern side of the house.
The glow of a single lantern made a small arch of light surrounding the door. The distant melody of the music inside and the fragrant bouquet of rosemary, dill and coriander soothed her rattled emotions. She wrapped the palla around her shoulders to ward off the chill in the night air.
Disconcerted by the ferocity of her unrequited feelings for Alexius, she meandered deeper into the garden, the faint moonlight illuminating her way.
She sank onto a bench beneath a lemon tree. Her palms on the cool, smooth marble seat, she leaned back and breathed in the light citrus sweetness of the rustling leaves above her. Stars twinkled in the night sky for as far as she could see. She wondered if the gods really existed or if the God Pelonia served was real. If so, did any of them care about her plight in the least?
The door to the house opened. An elegant couple invaded Tibi’s tranquil refuge. The dim light prevented her from seeing their faces and the distance kept her from hearing their conversation. Not wanting to be seen for fear of being recognized, she moved over on the bench and deeper into the shadows as she waited for the right moment to leave.
Finally free of the nest of women who clung to him like boa constrictors, Alexius moved to a solitary spot near a painted column. Less than three hours into the party and he was bored for the first time since Tibi had taken over his life two days before. A quick glance around the courtyard told him none of his company was of the same frame of mind. Even so, he wished he’d canceled the whole gathering in favor of spending a quiet night with the woman he loved.
The beat of the music quickened. A few of his more inebriated gladiators began to call for their favorite admirers to dance.
“Shall I dance for you?” Cassandra moved up behind him and entwined her arm with his.
He looked down into his former favorite’s seductively painted eyes, wondering why he’d never noticed the avarice in her gaze. Velus had much to answer for. He’d allowed Cassandra entrance tonight without asking him first. She and the triumvirate of widows chasing on his heels had been driving him mad. He shrugged out of her grasp. “Not tonight.”
She gave him a pout he’d seen her practice more than once in a mirror. “You used to love it when I danced for you.”
“Times change.” She seemed to think nothing had altered between them
in the year since she’d left him to marry a man three times her age whom she’d deemed more suitable. She acted as though he should be grateful for her return when, in truth, he’d failed to notice her absence within hours of her departure.
“Times change?” Her smile faded as the hard truth of his rejection pierced her vanity. She planted her fists on her generous hips. “Times change? You mangy dog. Who do you think you are?” she spat. “Have you forgotten that I am a patrician’s daughter, gladiator? How dare you dismiss me when you should be thanking the gods that I bother to remember your name.”
Alexius struggled not to laugh at Cassandra’s theatrics or her need to throw her social superiority in his face. How different Tibi was. She never treated him as less than an equal. “Clearly I’m not a man worthy of you, my lady. It’s probably best if you seek more appreciative company elsewhere. Now, I have other guests to entertain.”
He offered her his back and sought out his friend Sergius, standing near one of the banquet tables.
“I’ve never thought of you as a coward,” said Sergius. “But your bravery just now is unprecedented.”
“How so?”
“When you left Cassandra she looked as though she meant to flay the skin off your back with her fingernails.” Sergius popped a handful of berries into his mouth. “What happened?”
As he skimmed over the details, Alexius swiped a chalice of mulsum off the tray of a passing servant.
“Congratulations.” Sergius’s blue eyes were filled with mirth. “You finally put that hag in her place.”
“I should have been clearer sooner and saved myself the aggravation of enduring her presence tonight,” he said, cringing at the high-pitched squeals of a woman who’d decided to wade into the cold water of the largest fountain.
“Why didn’t you?”
“In truth, I forgot all about the greedy wench.” Alexius lifted the chalice to his lips and took a deep draught of the honey-laced wine. As he surveyed the fete, he found it impossible to shake his bone-deep boredom with the dancing, games of chance and drunken foolishness overtaking his garden like weeds. The food was delicious, but he’d had his fill. The same boredom prevailed with the women who were all high-born, willing and beautiful, but lacked even half as much charm as Tibi.
He looked to the shuttered window of Tibi’s room just beneath the eaves of the portico. She couldn’t possibly sleep with the incessant racket. The revelry needed to end. He signaled for the music to stop, but soon realized that the musicians didn’t see him through the incense and torch smoke. If he called out, they weren’t likely to hear him over the din. Pricked by yet another annoyance, he started toward the group in the corner. Before he reached them, Velus burst into the garden, drawing his full attention.
“What is it?” he asked, alarmed by his steward’s noticeable anxiety.
“There’s trouble in the herb garden.”
Alexius aimed for the door. Velus trailed him. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” the steward said, huffing to keep up. “I heard yelling and went to investigate. Livia Marciana was on her way to fetch you. She said a fight had started in the herb garden.”
Alexius broke into a sprint. The champions he invited into his home were those he most trusted, but they were all volatile men trained to kill with little or no provocation. Too conscious of the potential damage to his men and property to wonder at the quiet, he pushed open the door and met with silence.
His gaze swept over the garden for as far as the circle of torchlight allowed him to see.
Nothing but the breeze rustling the lemon trees.
Velus caught up with him, his chest pumping like bellows. He scanned the quiet scene. His round face crimped with confusion. “I don’t understand. Moments ago, I heard a full-blown war out here.”
“Where’s Livia?” he asked, his instincts warning him to be suspicious of the whole scene.
“I’m here.”
He spun around to see Livia framed in the doorway. Her flowing white stola was torn at the neck, revealing a transparent tunic beneath. The expression of fear she wore called for concern.
Alexius moved toward her, careful not to push her into a round of hysterics. “Tell me what happened.”
Tears welled in her large green eyes. “I came out here for some air. One of your men attacked me.”
“Who?” asked Alexius.
“The darkness… I didn’t see the beast’s face. Gavius heard me scream and came to my rescue. A fight broke out…”
Livia began to cry in earnest. She fled the door and threw herself against Alexius’s chest. He looked to Velus, but the steward shrugged, offering no assistance.
“Quiz Gavius. Find out what happened and if he knows the assailant,” he barked, patting Livia’s back. Her arms were locked around his waist. He doubted that a summer storm possessed the strength to break her grip.
“Thank you,” she offered in a husky whisper once Velus left. Her green eyes were huge, damp pools of distress. Rivulets of black kohl marred her pale, painted cheeks. “I was so frightened, Alexius! But you make me feel safe. Please don’t push me away. Just this once. Not tonight.”
“I’ll have Velus make arrangements to see you home.”
“No, I need you. I need you so much.” She reached up and kissed him.
Stunned by the cold ambivalence that spread through him like a glacial stream, Alexius ripped his lips from hers and glared down at her with loathing. The game she played was suddenly clear. He wondered if she’d paid Gavius to help carry out her scheme.
Aware of his own strength, he grasped her viselike arms and dislodged her with gentle but unyielding force. “That was a mistake, mistress. Don’t repeat it or I’ll forget my mother’s instructions not to ever hurt a woman.”
Taking her by the wrist, he led her from the garden. The music and mayhem of the party grew louder in the corridor. Fed up to the back teeth with the last several hours, Alexius shouted for Velus, but his steward was nowhere to be found.
“Fetch your slave and call for your litter,” he growled at Livia. “Consider your welcome here at an end.”
He left her at the edge of the garden and made quick work of killing the music. Amid the gripes and protests of the fete’s premature conclusion, he ordered his men back to their barracks and sent his other guests on their way.
As the garden emptied, Velus finally reappeared. “Where have you been?” Alexius snapped.
“I was looking for Gavius as you ordered.”
“Did you find him?”
Velus nodded. “He didn’t recognize the brute as one of our men. I suspect Livia ensnared her own slave to help with her dirty tricks.”
Anger boiled inside Alexius. Sword practice couldn’t come early enough. “I’m going to my quarters. Don’t interrupt me unless the house catches fire.”
He turned on his heel, grateful for the end of the most vexing night he’d endured in ages. Livia’s mischief making galled him and Cassandra’s attempted seduction was no compliment. He was no slab of meat to be fought over by a pack of bored, rich hyenas. Nor was he a puppet who danced when someone else pulled his strings.
In his chamber, he blew out the oil lamp on the table and crawled into his bed. As he stared into the darkness, he willed back the angry monster thrashing inside him. The night had given him a new perspective on his life and he didn’t like the view. For the first time, he realized he’d been slowly killing himself in ways more dangerous than the risks he took in the Coliseum.
A decade before, he’d been a young man with a hopeful future. His wants had been simple but nourishing to his soul. He’d worked his own land and begun building his own home. Dreams of finding the kind of deep, unconditional love he’d witnessed between his parents and basked in as a child spurred him forward.
But Fate had snapped her boney fingers and robbed him of all he held dear. Flung into the vile pit of the gladiator arena, he no longer thrived when nothing was certain—least of all surviv
al.
Anger had taken root in his heart, growing more each day until there was little room for good in him. When Caros acquired him from his former master, he’d been wild, unpredictable, less than human.
Caros had shown him how to channel his fury into an unbeaten champion’s record. Only Caros had ever bested him and that was at the school and unofficial. As long as he had a place to fight when the anger became too much to manage, he was able to fool everyone with his jovial nature.
Now he saw just how much his life of violence had cost him. The constant threat of kill or be killed had taken its toll. Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped believing he deserved any peace at all. In self-inflicted punishment, he’d traded the satisfaction he gleaned from working the soil for meaningless entertainments that left him a little emptier after each game of chance or wild party. Just as bad, he’d settled for condescending women when his parents’ example had taught him to search for true companionship and love.
He rolled onto his back and folded his arms beneath his head. Somehow he’d accepted the notion that he was as low as his profession. Without realizing that he’d done so, he’d forfeited the self-respect his upbringing had taught him. He’d believed the lie that he needed other people’s approval. No wonder men like Senator Basilius believed his integrity was for sale to the highest bidder and stone-hearted women like Cassandra believed he ought to be grateful for their favor.
His eyes closed. He conjured up an image of Tibi’s lovely face. For just a moment he indulged in the impossibility of having her as his wife, of sharing idyllic days with her on his farm in Umbria. How she’d managed to worm her way through the defenses that kept other women from accessing his heart he didn’t know, but she made him want to change, to leave Rome behind and embrace the simpler life he truly wanted.
Tibi’s willingness to trust him had revived him and his self-worth. For that, he owed her much. More than he could hope to repay. If not for Tibi’s influence, he might have taken Cassandra back or allowed the widows or their like to use him to bolster their own vanity. To do so would have been to fall back into bad habits, something expected given his degraded station in life. But Tibi wanted nothing from him but friendship. Her regard gave him the confidence he needed to think more highly of himself.