Michelle Styles - The Gladiator's Honor

Gladiators were for one night , she reminded herself of Claudia's words. The trouble was that her heart refused to believe it.

'I am perfectly fine,' she lied as Claudia continued to look at her with a strange concerned expression. 'It is hotter today than I thought it would be. But it looks like the baths proper are now open. What I would really like is a nice spell in the dry bath, sweating out everything, and a plunge in the cold pool.'

Claudia came over and patted her shoulder. 'Poppea doesn't mean to be so forthright, Julia. It is just her way. When you're ready, we can talk.'

Julia offered a silent prayer up to Venus. Claudia was not pressing for more details about Valens.

'The last few days have taken more out of me than I thought,' she said with a faint rueful grin, wiping her hands on her tunic. 'Hopefully these baths will be the last word in luxury as the sign over the portico said.'

When Julia finished her bath and started putting on her make-up, she had stopped trembling. The bath suite with its marble columns, and mosaic-covered floors and walls, had lived up to its promise, but it had also been a bit more crowded than she would have liked. Also, the price for being dried off and massaged was far steeper than at any of the baths she had been to.

Still, the massage had made her muscles tingle and she had to agree with Claudia's assessment that a bit of pampering never hurt. The warm glow from the exercise, bath and rub down made her feel like she was floating on clouds. As she tried to decide if her cheeks needed wine dregs or not, she allowed Claudia and Poppea's conversation to flow over her.

"They are harder to come by than Tyrean purple unless you know the right people, but I have two extra tickets,' Poppea said. 'Would either of you two like one? Claudia? Julia?'

Julia stopped gazing at the mirror and turned towards Poppea, brush in hand.

'Tickets to where?'

'To the Gladiatorial Last-Night Feast,' Poppea replied as she fastened up a disc on her gown. 'Not that you will be interested, Julia, but it is when the gladiators say goodbye to their supporters and their families. It can be quite moving. For many of them it might be their last night on earth. It is something no true supporter wants to miss, but Lucia has a cold and Serena's husband has just come back from North Africa. Claudia, are you interested?'

'I already have mine, thanks, and I am sure Julia has better things to do.'

Julia's stomach dropped as the brush slipped out of her grasp and hit the counter with a small crash. She had completely forgotten about what day the games started. A queasy feeling washed over her. Tomorrow Valens would be out there, fighting for his life, and, if his prediction was to be believed, against Aquila.

She looked at the large statue of Fortunata that dominated the changing room. Tomorrow the goddess would reveal which one she favoured. She stared at the statue's bland features and knew she needed to see Valens once more, if only to wish him good luck. She had been so wrapped up in her own misery and problems that she had forgotten he faced probably the toughest challenge of his career. She should have said something, something that resembled an apology, instead of merely asking for her ball.

'I will take a ticket, Poppea,' she said before her courage failed her.

Both Claudia and Poppea turned towards her with astonished faces.

'Are you positive about this, Julia?' Claudia asked in quiet voice. 'There are public places and public places.'

'I am more positive about going than anything else I have ever done before.' Julia felt her confidence grow with each word she uttered. 'I want to go tonight and then to the arena tomorrow. I need to go.'

Claudia gave a small clap of her hands.

'Have you been to a feast before, Julia?' Poppea asked. 'It is very dramatic and you should see what some of the women wear.'

'I thought the point was to go to see the gladiators and wish them good fortune,' Julia replied, careful to keep her emotions from showing on her face.

'It is, and for the gladiators to see you.' Poppea giggled. 'But fashions are often started at these feasts. I have had a new emerald-green gap-sleeve gown made for the occasion. I think the hint of flesh is so much more elegant than the plain old-fashioned gowns that covered everything.'

The exhilaration drained out of Julia, leaving her feeling limp and weak. The enormity of what she was about to do washed over her. Having made the promise, she had no idea of what was expected of her, what she should wear. She wanted to look her best, but knew if she wore her usual party clothes—green gown and stola —she'd probably look like a dowdy moth in an array of butterflies. She felt Claudia put an arm around her shoulders and give her a quick squeeze.

'Fear not, Julia,' she whispered in her ear. 'I will make sure you are dressed properly and that Valens will be stunned by your appearance. He will see what he has casually discarded.'

Julia nodded. She had to see him at least one more time, and try to explain.

'Julia may not have been to a feast before, but I have, Poppea. She will not disgrace you. What time shall we meet?'

The banqueting hall of the Aventine baths flickered in the light of a hundred lamps. Valens stood in the doorway, surveying the feast teeming with food and people. From the corners came the just-audible sounds of dice clicking as groups of men huddled over gaming boards.

The central tables groaned with a spread of food fit for the gods: roast wild boar with two baskets containing dates hanging from its tusks, bearded mullet floating in a sauce in such a way that they looked as if they were still alive and rich pastries dripping with rose petals and honey. A pyramid of exotic fruits and berries stood next to a fountain of wine.

Women dressed in brightly coloured gowns drifted about,draping themselves over the nearest male. These were no courtesans, but women with enough money to indulge their appetites. Who knew how many patricians had been sired by gladiators?

One woman caught Valens's gaze and patted the couch beside her, licking her lips in a suggestive manner.

Valens shook his head and passed by. It was not something he needed—meaningless coupling in one of the cubicles thoughtfully provided by his host. There was only one woman who haunted his dreams, and he very much doubted that Julia Antonia would be in a place like this.

He should have said more this afternoon when he saw Julia at the baths, but there had been no time. A thousand words had crowded into his mind, and her friends had been waiting for her. He could hardly drag her away without causing a scene and more scandal.

The one thing he had been conscious of was the huge gaping hole where his heart normally resided. The argument need never have happened. He knew he had been searching for one, trying to find a way out, and the worse part of it was that she was right. He was a coward for not contacting his father. He should have tried. He should not have shut the door on his past.

He wanted his honour back, but he also wanted Julia. Despite everything, it looked like it would be impossible to have both. Honour was a cold bedfellow.

Valens took a glass of wine from a silver tray and tried to concentrate on the scene before him. The buzz was quieter in here where the gladiators of the first hall had gathered than in the other rooms. Unlike the frantic wailing or gorging on food that he had seen in the other rooms where the untried, gladiators and the ones who had only won a single bout feasted, here most behaved with dignity.

The gladiators of the first hall were survivors, and, while they might perish because of an injury, it was doubtful that they would be killed at the crowd's request—their price was too high for the giver of the games to pay to the lanistra . Or at least it was what they told themselves. Valens lifted the cup of honey-sweetened wine to his lips and avoided the outstretched arms of a cloyingly perfumed beauty in lavender.