A Voice in the Wind (62 page)

Decimus drank her foul brews and ate the strange bitter herbs she prescribed, but they didn’t harmonize and balance the energies within his body as Columbella claimed they would. They neither harmed nor healed him.

Marcus took him to the baths to soak in the cleansing waters and introduced him to Orontes, a masseur reputed to have the healing touch. Orontes claimed massage could heal. When this, too, failed, Julia came to Decimus and said Calabah had told her he could heal himself if only he would tap into the resources of his own imagination and mind. She held his hand and encouraged him to concentrate and visualize himself in perfect health and it would be so. He almost wept at her unconscious cruelty, for by her words she blamed him for his illness and for being too weak to overcome it, when- he had fought against it with every ounce of his will.

With each visit, he saw in his daughter disappointment and subtle accusation and knew she believed he lacked whatever “faith” it took to cure himself. “Try this,” she said one day and put a carnelian crystal around his neck. “It’s very special to me. It vibrates in harmony with the energy patterns of the gods, and if you can give yourself up to those vibrations, you will receive healing.” Her voice was cool, but then her eyes flooded and she lay across his chest weeping. “Oh, Papa…”

Her visits became less frequent and more brief after that.

Decimus cast no blame upon her. A dying man was depressing company for a beautiful young woman who was so full of life. Perhaps he had become a grim reminder of her own mortality.

Why couldn’t he die and have done with it? A dozen times he contemplated suicide to put himself out of pain. He knew his family suffered with him, Phoebe most of all. Yet when it came down to carrying out a decision to kill himself, he found that he clung to life instead. Every moment, no matter how filled with pain, became precious to him. He loved his wife. He loved his son and daughter. Selfishly, perhaps, for out of love, he should release them—but he found he couldn’t. And he knew why.

He was afraid.

Long ago he had lost faith in the gods. They were no help, they were no threat. But what Decimus saw ahead was darkness, obscurity, an eternity of nothingness, and that terrified him. He was in no hurry to enter into oblivion, and yet it pulled at him. With the passing of each day, he felt a little more of his life slipping away.

Phoebe saw and was afraid as well.

Watching over him constantly, Phoebe sensed his inner struggle and suffered with him. She’d sought every expert and method there was and now had to stand by helplessly and see how he fought against the ceaseless pain, fought for life itself. Lacing his drink with strong doses of poppy and mandrake, she tried to give him what ease she could. Then she’d sit and hold his hand until he slept. Sometimes she’d go and sit in one of the alcoves where others wouldn’t notice her, weeping until she had no tears left.

What had she done wrong? What could she do to make things right? She prayed to every god she knew, gave offerings with an open hand, fasted, meditated. She cried out within her heart for answers and still she had to watch the man she’d loved since having glimpsed him as a young girl—the man who’d given her children and love and a wonderful life—die slowly, in agony.

Sometimes, in the stillness of night, when the silence was so heavy it rang in her ears, she lay as close beside Decimus as possible, holding him. And she prayed desperately, not to her own gods, but to the unseen god of a slave girl.

Atretes rose from his stone bench as his cell door opened and Hadassah stood in the torchlit corridor. They left the ludus together, both silent. Atretes felt the anger begin to grow within him. Where had Julia arranged for them to meet this time? In an inn? In the storage chambers of her brother’s villa? At a feast, where they could steal a few minutes together in a private room? His mouth tightened.

Each time she summoned him in this manner, another piece of his pride was chipped away. Only when he had her in his arms, begging for him to love her, did he feel his pride return. Yet later, in his cell, when he had nothing to do with his time but think, he hated himself.

Sertes had told him yesterday that the games celebrating Liberalia would take place in two weeks. An elimination match had been planned. Twelve pairs would start; the survivor would be given his freedom. Atretes knew time was catching up to him, and this opportunity might be the last and only hope he’d ever have.

Atretes decided if he lived through the match and gained his freedom, he would never be brought to Julia again. Julia would come to him! He’d buy a villa on Kuretes Street and send a servant to bring her, just as she now sent Hadassah to bring him.

Over the past three years he had amassed enough money to live well in Ephesus or to buy passage back to Germania and take his rightful place once again as chief of the Chatti. Six months ago, there would have been no question in his mind what he would do.

He wouldn’t even have thought of remaining in Ephesus. But now there was Julia.

Atretes thought of the rude longhouses of his people and compared them to the marble halls of luxury in which Julia had been reared, and he wondered what to do. As his woman, she’d have a prominent position of respect in the community, but could she adjust to life such as he had known?

Would she be willing to adjust?

Hadassah brought him up an unfamiliar street. She walked more slowly than usual, and her expression was troubled. She paused at a winding marble stairway to a villa set into the hillside. “She awaits up there,” she said, and, after pointing the way, withdrew.

“Obviously, this isn’t another inn. Is this one of her brother’s villas?”

“No, my lord. The villa belongs to Calabah Fontaneus. My lady believes her to be her closest friend.”

There was something unspoken in the way she explained it. Atretes looked at her curiously.

“You enter through the lower door,” she said before he thought to ask any questions. Eager to be with Julia, Atretes dismissed his unease. He went up the stairway.

The door stood open. He entered and found himself in a service corridor, with storage rooms off to each side and a stone stairway at the end. It reminded him of another meeting with Julia; she’d been waiting for him then.

This time another woman stood in the shadows of the stairwell. He strode toward her, feeling her critical assessment with every step he took. She stood three steps from the bottom so that she was on eye level with him when he stopped before her. Her eyes drifted over him and she came down one step. She lifted the amulet he wore. Holding it in her open palm, she looked at it and then up at him, her mouth curving into a sardonic smile. “Ah,” she said, and Atretes looked into the coldest eyes he had ever seen.

He brushed her hand away. “Where’s Julia?”

“Awaiting her pleasure.” The woman laughed softly. The sound grated. “This way,” she said and turned her back on him.

Eyes narrowed, Atretes followed her to the second floor. “Wait here,” she said and opened a door. He clenched his teeth in anger as she went in and he heard her say, “Julia, your gladiator has arrived,” in a tone so saturated with contempt that hot blood rushed into his face. Julia said something he couldn’t hear, but her tone was filled with agitation rather than excitement and expectation.

Calabah came out again. “She’s not ready for you. Wait here and she’ll summon you when she is.” She raised one brow. “See that you serve her well,” she said and walked down the hall.

Atretes glared after her with black fury, then exploded into action. He banged the door open and saw Julia sitting at a vanity table covered with vials of makeup and perfume. Two maids were fussing with her hair, both of whom froze at his entrance. “Out,” he said, jerking his head toward the door. They fled past him like mice escaping to their holes.

Julia sat staring at him with dismay. “I wanted to look absolutely perfect before—”

Atretes pulled her to her feet and yanked her into his arms. When she opened her mouth to protest, he covered it with his own. Her hair came loose beneath his fingers, and pearled pins dropped and scattered on the floor.

Julia struggled. “You’re ruining my hair,” she gasped when he allowed her an instant to catch her breath.

“Do you think I care about your hair?” he said roughly. “Except to do this.” He dug his hands into it, clenching it in his fists as he kissed her again.

She pushed at him. “You’re hurting me. Stop it!” When he let her go abruptly, she withdrew angrily, touching at her hair and then turning on him in anger. “Do you know how long I had to sit there while they worked on it just so I would look beautiful for you?”

“Wear it down then,” he said through his teeth. “Like the women they send to my cell.”

Her eyes flashed. “You’re comparing me to a common whore?”

“Are you forgetting how we met?” he said, still fuming that she had commanded he wait in the hallway. Who did she think he was?
What
did she think he was?

Her own temper was roused. “Maybe we should wait for another time when you’re in a better mood!” she said, turning away. She waved her hand as though to dismiss him from her presence.

Temper exploding, Atretes spun her around. “Oh no,” he said through his teeth. “Not yet.” After a few minutes, she was pliant and trembling, clinging to him. “Maybe you’re right,” he said with a sneering smile, suddenly letting her go so that she staggered backward. “Another time.”

“Atretes! Where are you going?” she cried, feeling bereft and abandoned.

“Back to the ludus.”

She reached him before he opened the door. “What’s the matter with you this evening? Why are you acting like this? Why are you being so cruel to me?” She caught his hand as he reached for the latch. “Don’t leave me.” She put her arms around him and clung to him.

He caught her arms and freed himself. “You pay Sertes and summon me like a harlot!”

She looked stunned. “I don’t mean it like that and you know it! It was the only way I could find to be with you again. I’ve given Sertes half of my jewelry to be with you. I would give it all to him if that’s what it took. I love you, Atretes. Don’t you know that? I love you.” She pulled his head down and kissed him. “You love me, too. I know you do.”

His desire rose swiftly, matching hers. “Don’t make me wait again,” he said, loosening the reins on his passion.

For an hour Atretes was able to forget everything but what it felt like to be with Julia Valerian. But in the quiet that followed, he felt empty.

He had to get away from her. He had to think.

“Where are you going?” Julia asked.

“I’m going back to the ludus,” he said shortly, defensive because she had never looked more beautiful than she did at that moment. He was still captivated by her, but somehow, perhaps even unknowingly, she only fed his inner hunger rather than fulfilled it.

“But why? You can stay with me until near dawn. It’s all been arranged.”

“Not with me,” he said coldly. He looked around the luxurious bedchamber and thought of the foul, arrogant woman who owned this house. “I won’t come here again.”

Julia sat up. “But why not? Calabah said I could use her house whenever I want. This is the perfect meeting place for us!” She recognized the banked anger in his eyes and the stubborn set of his jaw. He was going to be unreasonable. “Where do you suggest we meet, Atretes? Do you expect me to come to your vile little cell?“

He gave her a sardonic look. “Why not? It might be a new and exciting experience for you.”

“Everyone in Ephesus would know by morning.”

A muscle locked in his jaw. “So that’s the way of it.” He took up his belt and put it on.

Julia saw that he was insulted. “No, it isn’t! You know it isn’t. My family wouldn’t approve of us. My father and brother hold very important positions in the community. If either of them found out I’d taken a gladiator as a lover, they’d put me under guard to keep you from me. Can’t you understand? Atretes, they’d marry me off to some rich old man at the far ends of the Empire. They did so once before!”

“And if I were free?”

She blinked. The possibility had seemed so remote, she had tried never to think about it. “I don’t know,” she stammered. “It would change everything.” She frowned slightly.

Atretes’ eyes narrowed. He could see her mind working on all the possibilities. His mouth curved into a cynical, bitter smile.

“Atretes,” she said as though speaking to a child, “it’ll be years before you earn your freedom and you know it. We can’t wait upon that hope. We have to enjoy every minute we have with each other.”

Atretes put on his sandals. The pounding in his head was like a drum he used to hear in the forest.

“Don’t go,” Julia said, sensing that something was very wrong between them. When he straightened, she held out her hands. “Stay with me. Why are you being so stubborn? You know you want to stay.”

“Do I?”

She dropped her hands into her lap and clenched them, hurt that he was being so cavalier. Cloaking herself in pride, she tipped her chin. “Shall I contact Sertes later in the week, or would you rather be left alone?”

His mouth curved sardonically as he opened the door. “I always forego women before I fight in the games,” he said.

Fear gripped her at his careless words. “What games?” she said, panicking with the knowledge that she might lose him. He walked out the door. “Atretes!”

He strode down the lamplit corridor and took the stairs three at a time. “Get out of my way,” he said to a burly guard in the main hallway and went straight out the front door. He heard her calling out his name. When he reached the bottom of the stairway and stepped onto the street below, he stopped to fill his lungs with clean air. Glancing back, he saw she hadn’t cared enough to follow him into the street, where she would be seen.

He looked around, uncertain where he was, and swore violently. All he had thought about on the way here was being with Julia again. He should have paid more attention to the route.

Soft footsteps made him swing around instinctively, ready to counter any attack. The slave girl stood near the gate, looking up at him. “I’ll show you the way,” she said.