Michelle Styles - The Gladiator's Honor

Claudia leant forward and tapped a bit of the wine dregs off Julia's left cheek.

'If it is anything like the situation at my brother's house, you barely see the gladiator. I fail to understand why you are making my light-hearted remark seem like the fatal blow in a hard-fought campaign. Your father heard rumours. All of Rome has. The betting is heavy on which one will win come the games.'

' Valens rescued Bato. You were there. I have scarcely seen him after that episode.' Julia set the brush down with a trembling hand. She knew if she continued to try to apply her make-up, she'd look like one of the mimes from the theatre. 'He's nothing special.'

Claudia pursed her mouth and raised an eyebrow. Julia had the sinking thought that perhaps she had overdone the denials and Claudia had reached her own conclusion.

"Then I guess you have more pressing plans than going to watch the gladiators train with me. It is a full practice today at the Circus Maximus. The opening of the games is but a week away and Caesar wants to take a measure of his gladiators' preparedness.'

A shiver ran through Julia. To see Valens so soon after their late-night encounter. Her heart pounded in her ears. She had to go.

'If you need someone…' Julia said, toying with a pot of face cream.

'Good, it's settled then. We'll leave as soon as you have finished with your face,' Claudia said, clapping her hands and sending Bato scurrying under the bed. 'This time we will leave Bato with your porter, Clodius—to be on the safe side. Your reputation might not survive another brawl.'

'I never said I'd go.' Julia fastened a string of blue beads around her neck and slipped two gold bracelets on her right wrist, then contemplated her face. How could she apply the extra make-up to ensure she looked stunning without Claudia guessing the reason? 'There is plenty of spinning I should be getting on with, and several scrolls I wanted to read.'

'But you need to go. You must want to feast your eyes on the gladiators up close. Valens is not the only one with broad shoulders. When the games start, the gladiators will look like ants from where we have to stand. The only way you will be able to tell who they are is from their helmets.'

'Who said I was going to the games?' Julia's stomach twisted as if it were thread on a spindle. How could she sit and watch Valens fight, possibly to the death? 'There are a number of things I should be doing, like supervising the making of the new blankets.'

Claudia's mouth dropped open and her hands fell to her sides. Who was the one who disliked being teased? Julia resisted the urge to point this out.

'Julia, you can't say that spinning is more attractive than watching the games. You know some of the top gladiators, now. I'm counting on you.'

'One of the gladiators,' Julia corrected and tried to erase the image of Valens bleeding on the ground from her mind. A chill went through her.

'I still have a few days to convince you otherwise. I am determined to make a supporter of you. Say you'll come today,' Claudia looked at her with pleading eyes. 'It will give you something more to talk about…whenever you chance to meet him.'

Julia picked up a clean brush and started to dust her eyelids with powdered oyster shell, giving her eyes a luminous glow.

'Claudia, do you think any of the gladiators are Roman?' she asked finally, putting one last dab on.

Claudia frowned. 'They are mostly slaves. There might be one or two ex-criminals or maybe a man so down on his luck and deep in debt that he became a contract gladiator. But rumours of any patricians being gladiators are products of the playwrights' imaginations. Nobody becomes a gladiator without a good reason. Why?'

'I wondered about their backgrounds. That's all.' Julia tossed her shawl over her head and carefully arranged the folds. She made a face in her mirror before setting it down on her bedroom table.

'Gladiators are for feasting your eyes on,' Claudia said with a knowing expression on her face, 'and other parts if you are lucky. Their backgrounds are of little concern. They are symbols, not people.'

"They are people. Valens—'

'Even your gladiator, Julia,' Claudia said sternly. 'Don't you think you are fooling me with your oh-so-casual approach. This is the first time I've seen you spend that much time over your make-up since before you married Lucius.'

'I had wondered, that's all.' Julia tried for an innocent voice. She placed a hand on her friend's arm and gave it a squeeze. 'I have heard this lecture in different guises at least six times in the past week.'

'I will keep repeating it, Julia, until you start listening. Gladiators are different from the likes of you and me. If you become involved with one, and it becomes public currency, you are asking for trouble. Marcia Augustina, the Consul's daughter, decided to ignore convention and move in with a gladiator. Now he's dead and she might as well be—banished to Spain, never to contact her family again. Imagine no family, no friends, no Rome. And for what? A few tumbles in bed with a gladiator who abandoned her. No man is worth that.'

Julia turned to face her friend, pleased she had kept last night to herself. Claudia would misunderstand and would more than likely run to her father for Julia's own good. She crossed her arms and gave what she hoped was a carefree toss of her head.

'Shall we go and feast our eyes, as you say, or shall we stay here and wait for Sabina to come up with some little chore that has to be done?'

'I'm trying to look after you, Julia.' A crease appeared between Claudia's eyebrows. 'The last thing I want is for your new-found freedom to go to your head. I've seen it happen before…in Pompeü. It nearly happened to me. Widow or divorcee, you must keep to Rome's unwritten rules.'

'Let's get one thing straight, Claudia, old friend.' Julia put the top of her alabaster jar back on with a thump. 'I'm a grown woman and I can look after myself. I have no need for any protectors.'

The cold water from the jug trickled down over Valens's head and shoulders, cooling him off after the morning's practice. He allowed the droplets of water to enter his mouth, enjoying the sweet tang of the water.

'It was a hard session out there,' Tigris remarked after he downed his jug of water, the sweat pouring from every inch of his body. "The Circus is a much larger place than I had thought. It would be easy to get overawed by the crowd.'

'Yes, Caesar has considered that,' Valens replied laconically.

The exercise had proved the outlet for his frustrations about Julia. His anger at her former husband had driven him to press harder and look for more openings. Perhaps he had been wrong to worry that feelings for someone would take away his appetite for the sport and reduce his focus.

If anything, this morning, it was all the keener. Standing here in the Circus with its rows of wooden seats, he was more determined than ever to win the wooden sword.

'I thought you were about to kill Leoparda.'

'He's a good fighter. In a few bouts' time, I have no doubt he will have earned the right to sit among the first halls and enjoy the privileges it brings.'

'If the gods favour him…'

'You're getting philosophical, Tigris,' Valens said, ducking the jug into the water butt for the third time.

'Missing Maia and the children, I suppose.' Tigris refilled the jug, took a long drink, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 'I find myself thinking about them at odd times and wondering if Crispus has learnt his letters or the peas are coming up in the garden.'

'Spoken like a true farmer, Tigris.'

'I was a farmer once, before the war.' He gestured around the empty arena. 'Before all this.'

Valens rubbed the back of his neck. Tigris must be unnerved for him to mention his previous life. For four years, he had avoided finding out what Tigris did before, and now he found himself wondering why fate had chosen them. Memory was a dangerous thing.