Carla Capshaw - The Champion

Tibi’s mouth twisted with unasked questions, but she hurried to hand him the cub. Her cowl had slipped and she made quick work of readjusting the gray wool to completely conceal her distinctive hair and features.

“Greetings, Alexius,” Spurius called, his legendary girth making for slow progress down the hay-strewn path. “I’ve gone over the day’s proceedings with Darius. Your troupe is scheduled for battle within the hour. I’ll leave it to him to fill you in on the details.”

“They’re ready,” he said with a confidence born from experience.

“They always are,” agreed Spurius, as he came to a stop an arm’s length away. “Of course, it’s you the mob comes to see. What do you have there?”

“A runt Gerlach found in the hay. Apparently, its mother died in the ring this morning. How much do you want for it?”

“No,” Spurius said, gasping to catch his breath. “I mean, who do you have there?” He pointed a knobby finger over Alexius’s shoulder.

Alexius grinned to hide his rising tension. “No one of importance.”

“What a pity. She’s tall enough to be an Amazone . I let myself hope you’d trained a gladiatrix to fight as a gift for the crowd.”

“No, but I might consider it,” he said, careful to sound intrigued, since women were a favored spectacle in the arena, although they were few and far between. “About the runt—”

“If she’s not here to fight, is she your new woman or just a slave…or both? From what I saw of her at a distance, she’s a beauty. Let me have a better look.”

“There’s no need for that,” he said amicably. The whoosh of the bellows nearby filled Spurius’s surprised silence.

“Come now,” the editor cajoled. “Perhaps we can make a bargain. I’ll trade you the runt for the girl.”

“Another day and I might take you up on the offer.”

Tibi gasped and thumped him on the back. He coughed to smother his laugh at her reaction, pleased that she wasn’t cowed by the situation. “Unfortunately, she’s not mine to trade. Besides, you wouldn’t want this particular wench. She’s nothing but sass and vinegar.”

“A saucy one, eh? That’s often the best kind.” The editor eyed him. “If she’s not yours, then who does she belong to?”

“She’s a freewoman brought here by mistake.”

“Her father?”

Alexius shrugged.

“Let me guess,” continued Spurius. “You’ve convinced the poor girl you’ll protect her honor.”

Alexius’s eyes narrowed at the underlying insinuation that no woman was safe with him. “Indeed I have. How perceptive of you.”

The editor burst out laughing, as though the idea was one of pure comedy. “She must be a foreigner and unaware of your…colorful reputation, then.” He strained sideways as though to speak directly to Tibi. “Be warned, girl. If the gossips see you with this great Greek bull, they’ll make certain you have no honor left to worry about.”

Bitterness welled up inside Alexius. His free hand clenched into a fist at his side. Tibi gripped the back of his tunic between his shoulder blades. “Don’t,” she whispered for his ears only. “Please don’t. He’s not worth your anger.”

“Perhaps I’m such a prize she doesn’t care,” he said, his tone rich with irony. He reached into the leather pouch attached to his belt and tossed Spurius a handful of copper as . “For the cub.”

The editor ’s laughter subsided as he did a quick count of the coins. “I didn’t name a price.”

“I chose it for you.” He gripped Tibi’s wrist behind him, eager to leave when each moment added to the chance of her discovery. “Darius will lead the men of the Ludus Maximus this afternoon. I have business elsewhere.”

“What do you mean Darius will lead the men?” Spurius sobered in an instant. “You’re on the roster. You never miss a fight. The mob comes to see you . They’ll riot if you don’t appear.”

Alexius shrugged. All of Rome could be sacked today and he wouldn’t leave Tibi’s side again. “Then let them.” His full lips quirked. “I have a new…cub to look after.”

Tibi resisted the impulse to glance over her shoulder as Alexius propelled her toward the exit. Amazed that he’d left as important a man as the editor to sputter like a clogged drain, she kept her head down and shielded the cub that squirmed in her hand and licked her thumb with its rough tongue.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they entered a torch-lit corridor that had been chiseled from the earth and edged with flat stones.

“To the stables to fetch my horse.”

“And then?”

“Back to the ludus .”

“What if Tiberia is still looking for me?”

“It’s doubtful. Velus views strangers as though they’re hornets come to sting. I expect he’s sent the whole lot of them on their way by now.”

His lack of complete certainty renewed her anxiety, but she accepted the situation without further comment. She’d done all she could to buy herself time when she fled her father’s home. Either Tiberia was at the ludus or she was not, but given her sister’s tenacity, it wouldn’t surprise her if Tiberia decided to wait at the Ludus Maximus all afternoon. There was no way to know until they arrived and learned the truth one way or the other. Her future belonged to the Fates.

Considering the circumstances, the fact that she’d enjoyed even the smallest respite from her worries was a wonder due entirely to Alexius, she acknowledged with a frown. Whenever he was near, she had difficulty thinking of anything but him. Troubled by such an unwelcome reality, she took a deep breath to clear her head.

The mustiness of the tunnel mixed with the faint smell of hay the closer they climbed to the surface and the stable at ground level. “If I were to guess,” she said, trying to lighten the atmosphere between them. “I’d say you have a black stallion—maybe one of Caros’s Iberian champions—with a gleaming saddle and—”

“Wings?”

“You are Greek.” She laughed. “Wouldn’t it be a delight to have a pterippus like the Pegasus?” she added fancifully. “If I had a winged horse to do my bidding, I’d have it take me far from Rome.”

“Rome? Or just your father?”

She stroked the top of the cub’s smooth head and pretended a keen interest in the path’s dirt-packed floor. “Mostly my father. Although, I must admit, a fresh start far from the city’s gossips and expectations holds almost as much appeal.”

“You must visit your cousins in Umbria someday,” he said, leading her up the final stretch of stairs.

“I have. Once, two years ago I was invited to join the party when Tiberia and her husband sojourned with them in Iguvium for the summer. Truthfully, I’ve never seen a more beauteous place. It’s no surprise their friends Quintus and Adiona bought their own villa and vineyards nearby. I understand you have a farm there as well.”

He nodded.

“Your trainer, Darius, said your description of the area has given him the hope of settling his family there someday.”

“Yes, on its worst day Iguvium is far better than Rome on its best.”

“Then why do you stay here when it’s clear your heart is elsewhere?”

He opened the door without answering and waited for her to precede him through what appeared to be the back entrance of the busy stable. The strong odors of horseflesh and leather overpowered the rectangular space constructed of stone and rough-hewn timbers. Stable hands filled troughs with buckets of water. Horses, crowded into stalls lining both walls and the center of the long hay-covered floor, ate from feed bags or flipped their tails to clear the air of flies.