Читать книгу The Champion - Carla Capshaw - Страница 10

Still reeling from Alexius’s confession, Tibi allowed him to lead her and Calisto from the stable without another word. The design of his saddle, with a pommel at each of the four corners, made riding two people an uncomfortable prospect. Tibi didn’t mind walking. She desperately needed a bit of space between her and Alexius to clear her head. The thought of clinging to him for balance while she held the cub and rode in full view above the crowd seemed disasterous.

Outside, the day’s aromas and sounds assaulted her senses. The bright sun of midafternoon nearly blinded her after the many hours of dim light in the amphitheater’s lower levels. Heavy aromas of smoked fish, roasted nuts and fresh bread woke her hungry stomach.

The thick flow of people coming and going from the entrances of the gleaming white Coliseum surrounded them like a river, threatening to sweep them away. Alexius tightened his grip on her hand and navigated the shifting current with a single-minded purpose that must serve him well in the arena, Tibi acknowledged.

Careful to keep her face concealed, but her view unobstructed lest she trip or knock someone over, she adjusted her woolen hood. A row of makeshift stalls lined the busy circuit around the amphitheater. Hawkers did their best to tempt customers to stop and look at their wares—everything from leather goods to the freshest produce the season had to offer.

However, it wasn’t the food and supplies that drew the most notice. It was Alexius. All bronzed skin and sinewy muscle, he stood head and shoulders above the crowd, as perfect to look upon as a masterwork of Greek statuary. Young and old alike stopped to stare at him. Some watched slack-jawed while others jabbed their friends with their elbows and pointed with various levels of discretion. It wasn’t long before a path cleared, sidelined by an inquisitive horde that obviously held a gladiator of his skill in high regard. Alexius used the opportunity to move quickly, his only acknowledgment of the attention a quick wave or nod when someone bold enough called his name.

Several streets away, Rome’s central region gave way to one of the city’s more peaceful areas. Narrow alleyways led to wide-open squares where the elderly chatted around sculpted fountains and energetic children played knucklebones, chased one another or tossed sticks for their dogs to fetch.

The smoke from cooking fires and the aroma of roasted meats tinged the air. Not for the first time, Tibi’s stomach growled. Hoping Alexius didn’t hear its protests, she raised her face to soak in the warmth of the sun peeking through the rainbow of laundry strung between multistory apartment blocks. She inhaled the fresh scent of herbs growing in clay pots on each side of the footpath and listened to the even gait of Calisto’s hooves on the pavers.

“I’ve never been to this part of the city before,” she said. “Is this a new way back to the ludus or can I assume that you’re abducting me?”

Alexius sent her a sidelong glance. “If I were going to kidnap a woman, I promise she’d take much less effort than you do.”

She tensed. “I told you, you deserve compensation for your inconvenience—”

He sighed. “Don’t start that again. I wasn’t serious. Did no one in your family ever joke with you?”

There’d been very little laughter in her home, none since the year before when her mother crossed the Styx. “The mood in our domus follows my father’s lead. Since I’ve known him, he’s been somber, angry or outright dreary.”

“Then it’s a miracle you have any sense of fun in you at all. I suppose I’ll have to make allowances for your shabby upbringing and try to be patient with you.”

“Thank you so much for understanding.” She narrowed her eyes at him, but he merely chuckled when she tried to look threatening. “What of your family?” she asked as they passed a hunchbacked woman sweeping a flight of steps. “Judging by your disposition, they must have been a troupe of jesters.”

He grinned. “Actually, no. My father was a poor, illiterate farmer who loved the land second only to my mother. My mama was as beautiful as springtime. They said their first meeting was a lightning strike. Within days they married.”

“What a wonderful story. Were they always happy?”

“With each other, yes, but for a time my grandfather caused them endless grief. He was a rich merchant who despised the thought of his daughter married to a man so far beneath her.”

“What did he do?”

“He disowned her. She was made dead to him and everyone in his house.”

“How terrible!” she said, thinking her own father would do the same.

Alexius frowned at her. “Not so terrible at all. My abba adored her. They had little coin, but there was always a fire in the hearth and our table was never empty. My six older sisters were—”

“You had six older sisters? That explains much.”

“How so?”

“You Greeks are worse for want of sons than even we Romans. After half a dozen girls, I can only imagine how much your parents must have spoiled you.”

He laughed. “Yes, my sisters used to claim they could smell the stench of my rotten hide for miles.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Her smile faded. What must have happened for Alexius to lose his loving home and become a gladiator? “They must have been distressed when you left them.”

His manner shifted imperceptibly. His smile stayed in place, but the light left his eyes. “I hope not, but I imagine so. I never saw them again after I was sold to the slave trader and taken from Iolcos.”

A band of sadness squeezed her chest. No wonder she’d sensed such turmoil beneath his smooth facade. He’d been stripped from the home and family he adored. The pain must fester within him like an open wound. Aching for his loss, she wanted to wrap him in her arms and hold him until every drop of grief drained away. “What did you do? I mean…why were you sold into slavery?”

She felt his gaze on her profile as they walked down the shadowed street. She wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Men who were sold into the gladiatorial trade were usually murderers, traitors or the worst sort of thieves. She didn’t want to think of Alexius in those terms. He owed her nothing, not his patience or protection, but he’d been more than generous with both. True, she’d seen glimpses of the darker side of his nature, but he was also kind. He’d treated her with more respect in a few hours than she’d been shown in a lifetime. Perhaps it was madness to trust a gladiator, but no one made her feel safer or more confident about herself than Alexius did.

Deciding that the few hours she’d been granted with him were a gift that she loathed to waste, she pushed her doubts to the back of her mind. Tomorrow might find her in the temple, banished to spend the rest of her days serving a goddess who meant the same to her as a block of wood. So far, she’d had few moments worth remembering in her life, but she knew instinctively this day spent with her handsome Greek would be a time to cherish.

“You don’t want to know,” he said, seeming to read her thoughts.

She didn’t argue. Instead, they walked in companionable silence until her stomach growled again. A quick glance at Alexius suggested he hadn’t heard.

“Since I’m not worthy of being kidnapped,” she said, “and I’m fairly sure the ludus is in the opposite direction, where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to get something to eat. Your stomach makes a great disturbance when it’s hungry.”

She gasped. “How rude of you to mention it.”

He laughed. “I’m a lowly gladiator. I can’t be expected to know decent manners.”

“I don’t think you’re lowly,” she said, her voice infused with sincerity. “Neither did all those other people we left near the amphitheater.”

His brow furrowed as he studied her with an intensity that made her squirm. She couldn’t think of anything inappropriate she’d said, but then maybe she’d been too forward. Two of her betrothals had been broken because she’d dared to give her opinion. She’d offered Alexius a compliment, but the male mind was a strange thing. On more than one occasion she’d been under the impression that a particular conversation had gone well, only to learn later she’d caused some offense worthy of shaking her already precarious social position.

“Is the way much farther?” she asked, nervous she’d hit upon yet another one of the subjects that soured his usually pleasant demeanor.

“Not much.”

“Do you think we might be able to find some milk there to feed this cub? I’m worried. He must be hungry.”

“Possibly. My friends who own the thermopolium where we’ll eat have a cat that gave birth a few weeks ago. Maybe she’ll be generous.”

Relieved and hopeful, Tibi marched on with renewed purpose.

“It’s this way,” Alexius said. They made a sharp right turn and crossed a small bridge before following yet another winding alley.

Tibi switched the cub to her right arm and shook the stiffness from her left. “You’d best not leave me. I’ll never find my way out of this maze.”

“A safe return is your incentive to be good. Your reputation does precede you.”

“Does it?” She cringed. “Did you learn of my misdeeds from your many admirers? My sister delights in informing me that I’m the cause of much debate and laughter behind closed doors.”

“It pains me to agree with the shrew, but in this case Tiberia is correct.”

“What…what have you heard?” she asked, forcing the words through a stranglehold of humiliation.

“Little I can credit.”

“No?”

“From what I can gather, you turn into Medusa once the sun sets.”

She glared at him, unable to find the smallest kernel of humor in a subject that had caused her years of grief. “Medusa is dead.”

“Her great-granddaughter then.”

Her lips tightened into a thin line. “Perhaps I’m innocent of all I’m accused of, and the stories about me have been exaggerated until no matter what I do I’m in the wrong.”

“That I can believe. The excuses I’ve heard for your ended betrothals are shallow at best. You’re in no way repellent, aloof or argumentative, but there is something about you that scares those spineless Romans to the soles of their sandals. If, as you claim, you’re not Medusa’s progeny, why are you such a pariah?”

The question made her fidget, completely stealing the pleasure she received from discovering that Alexius didn’t find her ugly or disagreeable. She wanted to tell him the truth, but what if he reacted like other men and labeled her unnatural? To her chagrin, she found his opinion of her mattered more than she cared to admit.

“You don’t have to tell me, Tibi. We all have secrets to keep.”

“It’s not that,” she said, instantly consumed with curiosity about the secrets he kept buried. No doubt she and half of Rome would be scandalized if the full truth of his deeds were ever discovered. As for the other half of the city, they were probably participants in his exploits. Her shoulders slumped. She must be a terrible bore after all the excitement he was accustomed to.

“The source of my downfall has a fixed starting point. As you can imagine, it’s rather embarrassing. I did something when I was too young to realize the consequences of my actions or how unforgiving people can be.”

“How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

One silky black eyebrow arched. “You Romans are a strange lot.”

“No worse than you Greeks.”

“At least we don’t hold our young responsible for their transgressions for the rest of their lives.”

“I’ve yet to tell you what I did. Once you know you may agree with the others.”

“Did you kill someone?”

“No!”

“Then I can promise you I won’t agree with them. But I would like to hear the rest of your story.”

“All right. I’ll tell you, but only because I know you’ll harp on me until I do.” She waited for a denial, but none came. Her lips twitched at his expression of patient innocence. “As a child I wanted the love of my father more than anything. I failed time and time again to gain his notice unless he wished to berate me for not being the son he wanted. Being unable to change my gender, I decided that if his love was out of reach, perhaps I could earn his respect if I proved that I was as intelligent and able-bodied as any boy. To that end I excelled at my studies and took up sports. Archery was my favorite.”

“I can see you with a bow and arrow.”

“You can?” Alexius was an expert with weapons. His insight into the subject intrigued her. “How so?”

“The bow is an elegant weapon. It suits you. Continue.”

Flattered that he found her elegant, she forgave him for his high-handed command and went on. “Those efforts were also to no avail. Father despised me still. After all I’d done to please him, his continued coldness angered and frustrated me.”

“I’m not surprised. I’d be angry, too.”

He agreed with her? The notion struck her as incredible when everyone else believed that only her father’s feelings held merit. They entered a large, sun-drenched square. People had gone indoors to avoid the heat of the day, leaving only the splash of the fountain to fill the stillness.

They stopped to let Calisto drink water from a trough in the corner of the square. Alexius relieved her of the cub, but with the pain of her past pressing down on her, she hardly noticed the missing weight.

“What happened next?”

She blinked. “Sorry?”

“You were angry at your father,” he said, his attention diverted to the tiny cub in his huge brown hand.

Amazed that such a large, fierce man possessed gentleness, she watched him dip his long, battle-scarred fingers into the fountain. He shook off the excess moisture and pressed a single drop of water to the cub’s tiny mouth. He repeated the action twice more until the panther’s small tongue darted out and licked his fingertip.

“Go on.” Silver eyes, fringed with thick black lashes, caught her staring at him. Her face heated and her lungs locked. A slow, gratified smile curved his sculpted lips, exposing straight white teeth. “What did you do?”

Fearing that he understood the havoc coursing through her veins better than she did, she cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “The next year an archery contest was called for all the boys of the best families to show off their skills. Once again Father complained of his useless daughters and berated my mother for denying him a son to bring honor to the family. I wanted to prove him wrong so I sent one of our stable hands to secure a place for me under a false name. On the day of the event, I donned a short tunic and wore a cloak with a hood to cover my hair and keep my face shadowed. I was terrified of being caught at first, but I soon realized people see what they want to see. Everyone accepted my disguise without a qualm and assumed that I was just another one of the male archers.”

Alexius muttered something in Greek under his breath. “What happened next? You were discovered, no?”

“Yes, but not until after I’d bested every last boy. I felt triumphant, I assure you.”

He snickered. “I can imagine.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you can. When you win in the arena, do you feel a rush of invincibility? Is that why you continue to fight when you don’t have to?”

“I fight for reasons of my own.”

“One of those secrets you spoke of?” She ignored his glare. “Darius mentioned that you need to fight in the arena to battle your own rage.”

“The boy speaks too much,” he snapped. “He’s not paid to have or give an opinion of me.”

She backed away, a habit from never knowing when her father might turn violent. For the third time today, Alexius’s easy manner had evaporated, reminding her of the volatile side of his nature she didn’t dare trust.

He gathered Calisto’s reins. “We’d best be on our way.”

They left the square with no further words between them. Sunlight filtered through the olive trees, creating a dappled effect on the path in front of them.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“No,” she said. “I’m the one who’s sor—”

“Don’t. You did nothing.”

“My mouth always runs away from me. I pressed too much for something that is none of my business.”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said.

“You didn’t—”

“Yes.” He stopped in the center of the walkway. “I did.” Still clutching the reins, his strong fingers gripped her upper arm and turned her gently to face him. “You don’t have to deny it. I saw you flinch away from me. I know you live in fear of your father, but I swear I’m not like him. Rest assured, even if I act like a barbarian at times, I promise you have no cause to be afraid of me.”

“I don’t think you’re a barbarian and I’m not frightened of you,” she assured him, sensing again that painful struggle inside him she wished she could ease.

“Good, because I’ll never hurt you, Tibi.”

His sincerity was palpable. From out of nowhere, hot tears welled in her eyes. No one ever worried about hurting her. On the contrary, she often thought her family looked for ways to cause her pain. Caught off guard by the force of her reaction, she turned back to the path and hurried to wipe the moisture from her cheeks.

“Tibi? Are you crying?”

“No, there’s a speck of dust in my eye. I’m fine.”

Alexius allowed her to walk a short distance ahead. He despised the air of sorrow that surrounded her slim, cloaked figure. Worse, he hated that something he’d said or done was responsible for her melancholy.

Usually blessed with the ability to charm even the most hard-shelled of women, he cursed his lack of finesse with the one woman he wanted most to impress. Judging by the way she’d backed away from him as though she expected some form of violence, she either thought of him as a monster or her father’s treatment was even worse than the gossips suggested.

Unwilling to squander the few remaining hours he had left to enjoy her fresh-faced beauty and good nature, he followed her up the path. The fact that he had to relinquish Tibi at all maddened him. From the moment he’d promised Caros to keep his distance three years ago, he’d regretted the foolhardy pact. He wanted her. He always had. The longer he spent with Tibi, the more he knew he always would. He was acutely aware that he was too far beneath her to be considered worthy of anything more than assisting her for an afternoon, but if she belonged to him, he’d cherish her as she deserved.

“The thermopolium is around the corner,” he said, catching up to her in a few long strides. “Over there. The one with the blue door.”

Inside the smoky establishment, the aroma of fresh herbs, garlic and roasted fowl made Alexius’s mouth water for a good Greek meal. A gladiator’s typical diet of barley gruel kept him full when he was training, but never satisfied.

The small room was dimly lit and empty except for the proprietor, his friend, Marcellus, a short, boney man with gray hair at his temples, a hawkish nose and deep-set brown eyes.

Certain he could trust the older man not to spread news of him or his companion, Alexius introduced Marcellus to Tibi before telling her, “His wife, Aldora, is a fine cook. She prepares all the food here.”

“My Dora is Greek, like Alexius,” said Marcellus who welcomed Tibi with an elaborate wave of his arm. “He says she cooks like his mama used to do.”

“Yes, her delicious meals are renowned throughout the city. Where is she?”

“At the market.” Marcellus cast his gaze toward Tibi’s hooded figure. “She’ll be sorry she missed you and your guest. Do you want your usual table in the garden?”

“Yes, but first we need to visit Iris.” Alexius indicated the sleeping cub straddled along his forearm. “If she is willing to take in an orphan, we need her help.”

Marcellus grinned and fussed over the panther cub before fetching an oil lamp and leading them down a narrow flight of steps into the domed cellar. A continuous chorus of meows filled the damp space. In the far corner stood a large wooden crate padded with hay. “Dora made a spot down here when she found Iris birthing her litter. She’s a placid cat. I doubt she’ll object to feeding one more.”

Thankfully, Marcellus was right. Iris, a gray-and-white ball of fluff, welcomed the cub without fanfare. She sniffed the panther, licked his head and ears, then nudged the little black body into the pile of her own white kittens.

Alexius watched Tibi. Once Marcellus returned to the main room upstairs, she slipped the cowl off her head, revealing a long braid that appeared a burnished gold in the lantern light. She sank to her knees, her soft hands clenched into anxious fists against her thighs. While she focused on the cub, he concentrated on the delicate shell of her ear and the long, slender curve of her throat. He could still feel the sparks of awareness in his fingertips where he’d touched the creamy smoothness of her cheek. If Ptah hadn’t interrupted, he’d have taken her in his arms and kissed her breathless.

“There you go, little one,” Tibi encouraged, once the snuffling cub rooted its way to Iris’s warm body and began to nurse. “That’s a good boy.”

She glanced up at Alexius. Relief lit her large brown eyes. “It’s presumptuous, I know, but do you think we might ask your friends to keep him for a few weeks? Iris seems to have welcomed him. I can offer them coin—”

He wondered at her constant offers of money, as if no one ever did her a kindness for free. “I’ll pay them if it comes to that, although I doubt they’ll accept it.”

The panther cub safe and secure with Iris and her brood, Tibi replaced the cowl to cover her hair and followed him up the stairs. Marcellus led them past the half-dozen tripod tables and stools that took up most of the small room. The worn brick floor joined a back wall studded with shelves containing an array of ceramic plates, bowls and platters. A slave pushed aside the curtain concealing the doorway to the kitchen. He took his place on a small stool near the hearth and began to turn a spit laden with chickens over the fire.

Careful not to bump his head on the low door frame, Alexius followed Marcellus and Tibi outside where a high brick wall, dripping with colorful bougainvillea and wisteria, provided privacy from the adjacent businesses and apartment blocks. Lifelike, plaster statues of satyrs and centaurs guarded the square perimeter.

Alexius showed Tibi to a table in a secluded corner. Years before, the thermopolium’s water supply had been diverted to create a Grecian fountain in the center of the courtyard. Pots of varied sizes and shapes overflowed with herbs, miniature fruit trees, and a profusion of colorful flowers lent the cool breeze the sweetened scent of spring.

Like the interior room, the area was empty except for a few slaves sweeping the bricks and scrubbing the tables. He’d timed their arrival well to coincide with the afternoon lull. They had several hours before the rush of evening patrons, limiting the risk of Tibi being discovered in his company.

“What a lovely place,” Tibi said, leaning in to smell the vase of purple wisteria adorning their table. “Judging by the front door, I never would have guessed there was such an oasis to be found here.”

A slave poured a mug of water for each of them. “Aldora misses our homeland. She tries to re-create a piece of it here for herself.”

“Has she succeeded?”

He nodded. “It’s as close to the glory of Greece as I’ve found in this latrine of a city.”

She started to speak, but appeared to change course. “Rome is the capital of the world, Alexius. People of every tribe and tongue wish to live here. There must be something about it you consider worthwhile. The training school, your men—?”

“You.”

“All of your women,” she added, ignoring him.

Savoring the sound of his name on her lips, he hoped the tinge of bitterness in her voice stemmed from jealousy. “I wouldn’t want any of them if I had you.”

Her forehead pleated with disbelief. “For a little while, possibly, though I doubt it. What about after? Once the novelty value of an unsophisticated girl wore off.”

He sat back in his chair. She doubted his honesty and why should