Michelle Styles - The Gladiator's Honor

Valens stared at Tigris. He was joking, surely. Valens had been there when the contracts were drawn up. Strabo had been quite insistent on when inspections were to be allowed. He did not want the training interfered with by well-meaning amateurs. And Valens agreed whole-heartedly with the assessment. The morning was for training, the afternoon was for exhibitions, ceremonies and presentations.

'But it was in the contract—no inspections before five hours,' he said, ignoring Tigris's jerk of his head.

'Caesar wanted to make a special presentation to the troupe. I've made an exception,' a gravelly voice behind him rumbled. 'You are late, Valens.'

Valens turned to see Strabo, his squint more pronounced than usual and his scarred face like thunder. Before starting his school ten years ago, Strabo had been a gladiator, and was rumoured to have defeated Spartacus, the rebel gladiator, in the arena, to win his wooden sword. Now instead of his shield and short sword, Strabo carried a scroll in one hand and a beaker of Flavian wine in the other.

Valens clenched his jaw. He refused to apologise for being late. Had practice started when it was supposed to, he'd have been on time or at the very latest he'd have just missed the start of the warm-up session. Strabo should have sent word.

They stared at each other, neither giving way. Strabo waved Tigris away.

'You're late, Valens,' Strabo repeated. 'It will be a thirty denarü fine for you unless you have a reasonable excuse.'

'I understood the starting time to be about now.'

'Did you get the note I sent you last evening?'

'No scroll arrived for me. Or none that I was given.' Valens looked at the leader of his gladiator school with a steady eye.

Strabo frowned and clapped his hands. A servant appeared instantly at his side.

'Did I or did I not send a scroll to Valens yesterday evening?'

'You did, Master. Aquilia took it along with his.'

'Is Aquilia here?'

'Yes, Master Strabo. He is practising in the centre ring.'

'There you see, Aquilia is here and you are late. You should have offered an excuse while I gave the chance. Next time you check the time and not merely assume. I was about to send guards to fetch you and bring you here, in chains if necessary.' Strabo shook his head. 'I hate to do this to you, Valens, but it will be a fine. First-Hall gladiators should set an example and be on time.'

Without waiting for an answer, Strabo strode away. Valens picked up a blunt sword and started to fence with Tigris.

'What's bothering him?' Valens asked, staring after the lanistra . 'My lateness was an innocent mistake, an inevitable consequence of the housing arrangements.'

'Strabo probably had a thousand problems and you weren't here to solve them. You got off lightly with thirty denarü . He has already sentenced two second-hall gladiators to whippings and one tiro to the hole in the ground.'

'Who was the tiro?" Valens asked, mentally running through the list of gladiators who were set to face their first real challenge in the arena.

'Leoparda. Apparently he argued back to Aquilia, refusing to act as live bait for Aquilia's net practice. Aquilia demanded Strabo take action.'

Leoparda. Valens knew the name—a Nubian who moved with the grace of a cat. He had the potential, but being confined to a cell with barely enough room to move your legs did something to a man. Valens well remembered the rat-infested pit he'd been confined in during his captivity.

'Strabo has never resorted to the pit for such a trivial offence before. Who is this Aquilia character who suddenly runs the show?'

'He's on loan from another school. A rentarius of the first hall, one of the few.'

Valens looked to where Tigris pointed and cold sweat formed on the back of his neck. He tightened his grip on his sword.

The emblem of Alexander was emblazoned on Aquilia's right forearm and he strode around the practice yard as if he was striding on the deck of his ship. Valens's stomach clenched. There was no need to hear the oddly high-pitched voice that floated on the breeze or see the distinctive hooked nose. He knew instinctively who Aquilia had been in his previous existence—the pirate responsible for Valens's capture.

'How the mighty have fallen,' Valens remarked, forcing his arm shield to meet Tigris's next blow.

'Do you know him?'

Tigris paused in his attack. Valens launched a counter-attack and sent Tigris's sword spinning to the sand. Valens reached down and retrieved it.

'The last time I saw Aquilia,' he said, handing the sword back with a flourish, 'he sold me to the African slave trader who sold me to Strabo. He was a pirate then.'

Tigris whistled. 'How the mighty have fallen indeed."

Almost as if Aquilia could hear them talking, he turned and stared at them. Valens stared back. If it pleased the gods to match them in a bout, then he would take his revenge for the sixteen members of his patrol who had died in the pirate's pit.

'We had best to get to practising,' Valens said, deliberately turning from Aquilia without acknowledging him.

'So you are not going to tell me what happened this morning? And why there is a whiff of perfume about you?'

'You are imaging things, Tigris,' Valens said and blocked Tigris's next parry. 'The point is to me, I believe.'

As they squared off for the next round, Valens found himself thinking about Julia, the way her hair had felt under his hands and the softness of her honey-scented skin. Thirty denarü was not too steep a price to pay for the kiss, the taste of her mouth. If he had to do it again, and had known about the change in time, he'd still have stayed for the kiss.

The thought terrified him.

The spindle bounced across the floor as Julia's thread broke for the fourth time that morning. Years of practice generally ensured that her thread was smooth and straight. But today her mind kept returning to the time she spent with Valens in the early morning light and the thread kept breaking.

'Bato, drop,' she commanded as the dog started to nose the spindle.

Bato gave the spindle one more sniff and retreated back to his place by her feet. Ignoring Sabina's filthy look, Julia stood up and retrieved the spindle. She undid a bit of thread, fluffing up the strands, pulled some wool from her distaff, and started the spindle spinning again.

'You seem to have lost your touch, Julia,' Sabina said. 'You should have remembered that your father is not as wealthy as Lucius and you would have to help with the spinning.'

'I spun when I was married to Lucius,' Julia said, biting back the sarcastic words about Sabina's clothes, all of which were of the finest wool and linen. 'The wool doesn't seem to have been carded very well. That's all.'

Julia rolled her eyes. As if the thought of spinning would have put her off divorcing that misbegotten worm. Spinning was far from a loathsome task when put in the proper context. Julia tried to make the thread smooth, enjoying the feel of the wool against her fingers, the steady rhythm of spindle turning. The sound of Bato's snoring filled the room.

'That's about all I have time for.' Sabina started to put her spinning away. Julia noted Sabina had done about half of what she had in the same amount of time. 'I promised to meet some friends at the baths. Flavia may have heard more about the affair Lucia Pulia is having with her porter. The one I was speaking about yesterday. You are welcome to join us, Julia.'

'I think I will stay here and get on with my spinning. After all, you did say we needed new blankets.'

'As you wish, but remember I did offer.' Sabina swept from the room.

Julia breathed in the silence. Immediately, it was broken by the sound of doors slamming. Julia was unable to keep her heart from leaping. Valens ?