Michelle Styles - The Gladiator's Honor

'I have met a man,' she said carefully, 'a gladiator who claims he was held in the same pirate's hold as your son. He saw your son die.'

Gracchus's eyes turned grave. He made a motion, dismissing his bodyguard and servants. Julia watched in silence as they departed, her stomach knotting tighter and tighter.

'Dear sweet child,' Gracchus said at last, 'you hardly know what you say. I showed you yesterday Gaius's brooch. Mettalius laid it in my hand. He tore it from Gaius's body. I have his solemn oath on it. Why would he lie to me about the manner of my only son's death? Besides, the ransom note was a forgery. Lucius spotted the errors straight away. Blinded by love for my son and concern for my wife who was suffering her first bout of severe illness, I missed them the first time I read the note, but Lucius noticed how the code had been altered. Rage filled me that someone should play such a shabby trick and that I should be so gullible to believe it'

Julia turned her head towards Bato, staring at the dog's grizzled muzzle, but not really seeing it. She had to find a way of making him believe. She had to do it for Valens. Maybe if he spoke to the senator, it would give him the courage to seek out his own father. 'That may be true, but the gladiator—what reason would he have to lie?'

Gracchus leant over and patted Julia's hand. 'I know not of his purpose, but I never trust an infamis . They are not honourable men and have forfeited their right to be believed. How can I begin to guess what he might have hoped to gain from this tale? But mark my words, he will have wanted something, they always do.'

'I…' Julia stumbled over her words. If only Valens were here, she would drag him to Gracchus and demand him to repeat the story. It would force the issue out into the open. But she had no idea when Valens would return, nor could she ask Gracchus to stay.

A noise made her look up. In the shadow of the doorway, she saw Valens standing there, pale as a ghost, his face a mixture of thunder and pain.

The soothing non-committal words she had been about to say dried on her lips.

She was sure she had made a sound because Gracchus half-turned and followed the line of Julia's eyes. The statuette of his son tumbled from his grasp as he rose in his seat. Julia caught the statuette before it crashed to the floor.

'Gaius?' Gracchus croaked. 'Can it be you?'

Chapter Thirteen

Valens stood in the doorway, unable to move, his eyes taking in every detail of the scene. Julia was crouched on the floor with the white statuette held gently between her hands. The man was seated in a resplendent chair with his arm raised as if he were making a speech in the Senate. His face was older and more lined than the last time they had met, but his toga was still as brilliantly white, the coloured stripe still as broad.

The coils of the past finally had reached out to ensnare him and Valens waited for the final thrust of Fate's trident. He should have left when he first learnt of the Gracchus connection, or before that, when he first felt the tugs of memory.

He heard the whispered Gaius , and felt it pierce his soul. The temptation to walk away was overpowering, but he appeared to have lost all movement in his feet. He wanted to rage and cry. Yesterday had been bad enough, facing his cousin who innocently had taken his place, but here was the man who had allowed it all to happen. This was the man who had refused to pay his ransom and who had condemned him to this life of infamy and his men to their death. That compartment of his life had to remain shut and locked forever.

'I am Valens the Thracian gladiator,' he heard his voice say from a long way away. 'Not Gaius Gracchus.'

He watched the old man intently to gauge his reaction. Would he deny the words and insist on the truth? He had to know the truth. What parent would not instinctively know his only son?

Gracchus's eyes peered at him, burned into his soul. Valens drew on all his gladiatorial training to force his feet to stay still. He returned the gaze without flinching. Then his father's shoulders shrank and his face grew more lined before Gracchus turned his head away.

'Forgive an old man's fancy—in the half-light I thought my son had returned from the dead.' His father's voice sounded tired and over-burdened with age. 'An old man's folly.'

The desire to run and bury his face in Gracchus's toga as he had when he was a small boy and had broken his favourite toy filled Valens. He wanted to be that son again. He wanted to have his whole future in front of him, a future that could include Julia.

He started to form the words, to beg his father's forgiveness. Then the anger returned, surging through him. How dare his father not pay the ransom! How dare he condemn his only son to an infamous death! He had behaved in a way no father should. He had forfeited any right to be comforted. The last remnant of Gaius Gracchus died when he took the gladiator's oath. Valens bit back the words.

'Valens is the gladiator I told you about. See, here is his figurine.' Julia reached forward and touched Gracchus's hand, indicating a small figurine on a shelf next to his father's chair. 'He saw your son die and can tell you about the manner of his death.'

Gracchus made an irritated noise and signalled for a servant to take the statuette from Julia. Valens felt his blood run cold. He knew the statuette, but he needed to know why his father had brought it to Julius Antonius's house.

What was Julia's part in this? Had she guessed? She should have asked him first. She should have asked him if he wanted this. He did want Julia, but not this way. She had to want him for who he was, the man he had become, not the patrician he had been.

'Julia, I have already told you. My son died in Zama in North Africa. I have his brooch. I know how he died. Mettalius told me and Mettalius is an honourable man. Yes, there was a ransom note, but it was a crude attempt at exploiting money, preying on a sick woman's fancy.'

Valens found it impossible to contain his anger.

'Six men perished when your refusal arrived,' he stated bluntly. 'That note was no forgery. He was alive when the pirates captured him, injured but alive.'

Gracchus turned towards him, a look of disdain on his face. Valens knew in that heartbeat of time that his father was determined not to believe the evidence of his own eyes. That it was more convenient for him to believe his only son was dead than to face the truth. All the hope he had had that somehow it had been a mistake, that Gracchus would forgive him for not being Roman enough to put honour before death, was gone. When had his father forgiven any act he considered less than honourable?

'You ask me to believe the word of a gladiator above the word of a senator—two senators? I have the evidence.' His father's voice was ice-cold. 'I held my son's cloak in my hands. I wear his brooch. He would not have given up either without a fight. The note was a forgery. Lucius showed me the errors and how the code had been changed.'

Valens winced as he remembered how Aquilia had pulled the cloak from his shoulders. We have need of this elsewhere, he had said. He had always assumed that it had been sold. That the attack had been random. A twist of Fate's spindle. Had he been mistaken? What could have Mettalius hoped to gain from his death? And the note. Aquilia's smile when he said that it was to make sure that there were no mistakes. How could his father say that it was a forgery, except to provide salve for his own mind?

'You may believe what you like,' Valens said stiffly, refusing to beg. His father had repudiated him once. He would not give him an opportunity to do so a second time.

He looked at his father who clapped his hands, summoning his servants.

'I shall go now, before I insult your hospitality, Julia Antonia.' His father stood up and draped his toga over his arm. the senatorial stripe proudly displayed. 'I will not have my decisions questioned by an infamis"