The Gladiator

“What were you doing there?”

“Lucia sent me to clean.”

“I don’t believe you. She wouldn’t assign hard labor when you’ve yet to fully heal.”

“She said you meant to punish me.”

“Now I’m certain you lie. I said nothing to Lucia about you.”

She looked away from his icy blue stare, irritated enough at being called a liar again to dismiss her concern for his wounds. “Your thoughts are your own. Believe what you will. But if you meant to show me how harsh life here will be without your protection, consider your point well made.”

“If you were cleaning upstairs why are you here in my private room? Did you plan to rob me before attempting the escape you threatened?”

“First I’m a liar, now I’m a thief?” she asked, unreasonably hurt by his low opinion of her. “If you knew me better, you’d realize you have no need to question my honesty. What have I done to give you the impression I’d steal from you?”

Caros contemplated the question while he steadied his breathing. How dare she stand before him acting as though she was in the right? By the gods, she’d given him the scare of his life. Once he’d discovered her gone, he’d turned the domus upside down looking for her. Visions of her fleeing into the wrong spot and encountering his men had him locking them up in the middle of the day.

Unwilling to examine the fear he’d experienced when he thought she’d run away, he hugged his anger to him like a protective coat of mail.

“Well?” she demanded. “What have I done?”

He stepped toward her.

She jumped back, her palms outstretched as though to ward off an attack. “Don’t come any closer.”

He moved forward, within easy reach of her. “Why should I not?”

She dashed away, positioning herself behind a piece of furniture.

“Do you think a chair will offer protection if I choose to lay my hands on you?”

“Some protection is better than none.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Even gladiators gird themselves before a match.”

“True, but no amount of armor can compare with experience. I’ve fought for almost half my life. You’re as battle hardened as a kitten.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I admit you’re a better fighter than I—”

“Yet I’m not the one who usually begins our skirmishes.”

“You blame me for the difficulties between us? I’ve done nothing—”

“But argue.” Most of the anxiety she’d caused him began to melt away now that the shock of her disappearance had begun to wear off.

“I’ve done no more than defended myself. You’re just unreasonable. Your high-handedness begs to be brought down a peg.”

“Is that so?” He shoved the chair out of his way and gripped her upper arms before she realized his intent to strike. “If we were equals you might be the woman to chastise me. As it is, you’re a slave who’d be wise to keep her opinions to herself.”

“And you’re a pompous…gladiator!”

Caros almost congratulated her. She’d held her ground, though he could see fear lurked in the depths of her soulful brown eyes.

“Why are you smiling?” Her distrust was unconcealed. “Have you devised some new punishment for me?”

He caressed her arms, enjoying the smoothness of her skin. “I thought I might train you to fight in the arena. A woman in the games is a novelty. If this display of temper is any indication, you certainly have the mettle for it.”

She escaped from his hold and fled to the window. “Your humor is misplaced, lanista. If you trained me with a weapon, you’d be wise to refrain from sleep.”

He laughed outright. “So, you’d kill me, would you? Doesn’t your God frown on murder?”

With a defiant toss of her head, she glared at him. Glad to see her bruises all but gone, he admired the way the window framed her beautiful face and delicate stature. Even the ragged tunic did nothing to hide her appeal.

“Blasphemy is a sin the same as murder,” she said. “God might not pardon you for mocking Him, but given your contrary nature, I’m sure He’d understand my actions and forgive me without reservation.”

“Perhaps,” he said flatly. “But you might be surprised to find how difficult it is to forgive yourself.”

Mollified by the horror in her eyes, he turned to leave. “Be warned, slave. Disappear again and you won’t like the consequences. If you think dusting storage rooms is punishment, you’ll realize it’s child’s play compared to the tasks I’ll drop at your feet.”

Outside, the sun beat down on him. He sensed Pelonia was jesting when she spoke of murdering him and her God’s forgiveness for such an act, but what if it were true? What if her God were powerful enough to forgive the vilest crime and erase the guilt crippling his soul?

Hope flickered like an elusive flame inside him, then burned out just as quickly. He’d done too much evil to think of receiving mercy. He’d killed countless men, many of them Christians. Why would their God embrace an enemy?

He shook his head, his spirit bleak. He was lost with no way to be found. He should accept his fate and stop longing for redemption. Deep in his heart he accepted he wasn’t worthy.

Chapter Six

Pelonia couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned on her hard pallet, her body begging for slumber, her mind too conflicted to rest. She kept envisioning Caros’s dejected face when she’d taunted him. How could she have suggested she’d murder him or that God would forgive her for the crime? Yes, she’d been angry, but such meanness wasn’t her way.

She didn’t feel like herself anymore. Her whole life had changed for the bitter. She closed her eyes and tried to pray, once again asking for forgiveness and direction. Afterward, her heart was lighter, but God seemed just as distant.

She gazed out the open window. It would be dawn soon, but for now an array of stars twinkled in the tar-black sky. As a child, she’d loved gazing into the night, memorizing the constellations her tutors had shown her. A smile curved her mouth as she remembered her father pointing out different celestial patterns and teaching her the wonders of God’s creation. With true gratitude, she thanked the Lord for those sweet memories.

Giving up on sleep, she flipped away the light covering and stood. Stiff muscles protested as she crossed the tiny room she’d inhabited since Caros brought her here from the slave quarters eight days ago. She wondered when she would join the other slaves. Surely Caros had better use for the space than to allow her a private chamber.

She rested her palms on the windowsill. The first rose-colored streaks of dawn painted the horizon. A cool breeze ruffled her hair and a dog barked in the distance, the only sound amid the silence.

Steps shuffled in the hall. Someone pounded on the portal loud enough to wake the deepest sleeper.

“It’s time to rise,” Lucia commanded through the closed portal.

“I’m coming.”

“Be quick about it. Find out what herbs Cook needs from the garden and fetch them for him.”

Pelonia changed her tunic and wrapped the shawl around her shoulders before venturing into the corridor. A series of lanterns lit the way downstairs to the back of the house. A pair of guards waited at attention by the rear door. With a hurried greeting to the giant, dark-skinned Africans, she crossed outside into the fresh air. The smell of baking bread made her mouth water.

Following the brick path to the kitchen, she glimpsed Caros training with a sword in the peach orchard. A look of concentration etched his handsome face. He didn’t see her. Free to watch him without the expectation of conversation, she halted, mesmerized by the power and grace of his movements. He reminded her of music come to life in human form. Even the scar that looked like the swipe of a lion’s claw across his chest did nothing to detract from his appeal.

“Don’t fall in love with him,” Lucia said, slithering up beside her. “If any woman ever claims his heart, it will be me.”