A Voice in the Wind (63 page)

“Not before I’ve had time to walk.”

He knew she followed, but he didn’t slow his pace. Others were there in the darkness to watch him as well, others sent by Sertes to guard his investment. He could have called to them to show him the way. A galling thought. Take me back to prison. Put the chains on again.

He saw the temple of Artemis, but some hand seemed to turn him away from it. Instead, he found himself following a road that led to the arena. When he reached it, he stood for a long time, looking up at it, hearing the echo of screams, smelling the blood. Closing his eyes, he wondered why, with the few hours of solitude and freedom he had, he would end up here.

He wandered among the deserted stalls beneath the spectator stands, where all manner of debauchery was sold. He found an entrance and went up the steps. Moonlight filled the stadium, and he found his way easily to the box where highly honored Roman officials sat. Sailcloth rippled above him. One awning had come loose; the others had been rolled back and secured, leaving the platform open to the sky.

Atretes looked down on the sand. Soon Julia would be sitting here where he stood now, watching him fight for his life. Watching him take life. And she’d enjoy it.

The little Jewess stood beside him.

“We both serve Julia, don’t we?” he said, but she didn’t answer. He glanced at her and saw she looked around the arena as though she’d never been in one before. She was visibly trembling, shaken to be in this place of death.

“I’ll fight down there in a few days,” he said. “Sertes scheduled me for the elimination match. Do you know what that is?” She shook her head without looking at him, and he explained. “It would seem Artemis has smiled down upon me,” he said dryly and looked away. “This time next week, I’ll either be dead or a free man.”

Atretes looked down at the sand again. It was like a white moonlit sea. Clean. Yet he remembered the stain of blood from every man he had ever killed. “Maybe death is the only freedom.”

Hadassah took his hand. “No,” she said softly.

Surprised, Atretes looked down at her, amazed that she had touched him at all. She held his hand as though one of them was a child.

“No,” she said again and, turning to face him, she held his hand firmly between both of her own. “It’s not the only freedom, Atretes.”

“What other freedom is there for a man like me?”

“The freedom God gives.”

He took his hand from hers. “If your god failed to save Caleb, he won’t protect me. Better that I put my trust in Artemis.”

“Artemis is nothing but dead stone.”

“She bears the symbol of Tiwaz, the spirit god of the Black Forests of my homeland.” He lifted the amulet he wore around his neck. His talisman.

She looked at it sadly. “A goat is used to lead sheep to slaughter.”

His fist closed around the amulet. “So I should become a Jew?” he said sardonically.

“I’m a Christian.”

He let out his breath sharply, staring down at her as though she were a dove that had suddenly sprouted horns. Christians were fodder to the arena. Exactly why, he’d never understood; what threat to Rome were people who wouldn’t fight? Perhaps that was it. Romans prized courage, even in their victims. Cowardice drove them to frenzy. Christians were fed to the lions because it was a shameful thing, reserved for the worst criminals and the lowest cowards. The only death more humiliating than that was to be hung on a cross.

Why had she told him she was a Christian? Why had she taken the risk? He could tell Sertes, who was always looking for victims to serve up to a hungry mob; he could tell Julia, who spoke freely of her contempt for Christians.

He frowned, aware Julia couldn’t know her personal maid was of this deviant cult. “Better that you keep this to yourself,” he said.

“I have,” Hadassah said. “I’ve kept it to myself for too long. This might be the last chance I have to speak with you, Atretes, and I fear for your soul. I must tell you—”

“I have no soul,” he said, cutting her off. He didn’t know what a soul was. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“You have. All have. Please listen,” she pleaded. “God lives, Atretes. Turn to him. Cry out to him and he’ll answer. Ask Jesus to come into your heart.”

“Jesus. Who’s Jesus?”

She opened her mouth to speak.

“Be silent,” he said suddenly, sharply, and she, too, heard the guards coming. A paralyzing fear swept through her as she glanced up and saw the Roman soldiers a few rows above them, watching like birds of prey. She remembered the screams of the dying in Jerusalem, the forest of crosses outside the broken walls, the suffering survivors. Her mouth went dry.

“Time to return, Atretes,” one said. “Dawn’s coming.” The others stood ready should he refuse to obey.

Atretes nodded. His eyes flickered to meet Hadassah’s, and he frowned slightly. “You were foolish to tell me anything,” he said so only she could hear.

She tried not to weep. “I was foolish not to tell you everything sooner.”

“Say no more,” he commanded and saw her eyes glisten with tears.

She put her hand on his arm. “I will pray for you,” she said, and her hand tightened as though to hold him there and make him listen. “I pray God forgives me my fear and grants us another chance to talk.”

Atretes frowned, perplexed and strangely touched. He turned away and went up the steps, the guards falling in around him, hedging him in. When he reached the opening into the corridor that led to the stairs out, he looked back. Hadassah was still standing there.

He’d never looked into such eyes before, eyes so full of compassion that they pierced through the hardness of his heart.

“He said he’s fighting in the games again,” Julia said, upset that Calabah had stopped her from going after Atretes.

“Well, of course he’s fighting in the games. He’s a gladiator.”

“Don’t you understand? He could die! The only games scheduled are in celebration of Libernalia, and Sertes is planning an elimination match. Marcus told me yesterday. Atretes won’t be fighting just one man or two.” She pressed her fists against her temples. “I was such a fool, such a fool. I never even thought what it might mean. What if I lose him? I couldn’t bear it, Calabah. I couldn’t.”

“And what if he lives?” Calabah said in a strange tone that made Julia glance at her.

“Sertes would have to free him.”

“And what then? What would he expect of you?”

“I don’t know. I’d marry him if he wanted.”

“You would be so foolish?” she said disdainfully. “He’s worse than Caius, Julia.”

“He’s not. He’s nothing like Caius. He was angry with me because I left him standing in the hallway.”

“I’m not speaking of his violence, though there is that to consider. I’m speaking of the way he
controls
you. His pride gets a little bruised and he leaves. And what do you do? Do you bide your time and wait for him to come to his senses and apologize? You should have seen yourself, Julia, running after him. It was embarrassing to see you behave so badly.”

Julia blushed. “I wanted him to stay.”

“Anyone in Ephesus could’ve seen how much you wanted him to stay,” Calabah said. “Just who is it that controls this relationship?”

Julia looked away, remembering Atretes’ cutting remark about abstaining from women before the games. Did he have others when he wasn’t with her? She hoped she was the only woman in his life, but what if she were just one among many?

Calabah tipped her chin back and looked into her eyes. “This gladiator owes you respect. Who does he think he is? The proconsul of Ephesus? Why do you allow him to treat you like a woman of convenience?” She took her hand away and shook her head. “You disappoint me, Julia.”

Hurt and shamed, Julia became defensive. “Atretes is the most famous gladiator in the Empire. He has over a hundred kills to his credit. They make statues in honor of him.”

“And these things make him worthy of you? You’re a Roman citizen, the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the Empire, a woman of substance. This Atretes is nothing more than a brute animal capable of fighting in an arena, a barbarian who lacks the least refinement. He should be honored that you chose him to be your lover—and grateful for every moment you spare him.“

Julia blinked, staring into Calabah’s dark eyes. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Calabah put her hand over hers, squeezing lightly. “I know. You think too little of yourself. You’ve allowed yourself to become his slave.”

Julia looked away again, further ashamed. Was she his slave? She remembered how she had pleaded with Atretes to stay and then run after him. It hadn’t stopped him. She had humbled herself, and he had turned his back on her.

“You must put him in his proper place, Julia. He’s the slave. Not you.”

“But he could earn his freedom.”

“I understand why you’re thinking this way, but think some more. Did you know that barbarians kill wives who take other lovers? They drown them in a bog. What if this gladiator did earn his freedom? What if you married him? Perhaps you’d be happy for a little while, but what if you tired of him? If you dared even look at another, he could kill you. In Rome, a husband has the right to kill an unfaithful wife, though few are so hypocritical as to ever do so. This man wouldn’t think twice about killing you with his own hands.”

Julia shook her head. “I’m not like you. I love him. I can’t help myself. I can’t give him up because of what I’m afraid might happen.”

“You don’t have to give him up at all.” Calabah rose from the couch.

“What do you mean?”

Calabah stood thoughtful for a long moment. “You could marry another man, a man you could trust implicitly. A man who would allow you complete freedom to do as you please. Under those circumstances, Atretes could remain as your lover as long as you wished. If you tired of him, there would be no harm done. Give him a token gift to salve his pride and send him on his way back to Germania or wherever else he might want to go.”

Julia shook her head. “I’ve been married before and hated it. Claudius was worse than my father. And Caius. You know what Caius was.”

“You’d have to pick the man very carefully.”

“The only man I’ve ever trusted is Marcus.”

“You can hardly marry your brother, Julia,” Calabah said dryly.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said, her mind agitated by the thoughts Calabah threw at her. She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples.

“Do you still trust your brother so much?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I wondered why you came to me for help with Atretes instead of him. Since you trust him, I assume he knows of your love affair and approves.” Tilting her head slightly, she studied Julia’s averted face. “He doesn’t know? What would he do if he did know?” Her sweet question held a tinge of mockery. “Your father has been very ill lately. Has Marcus loosened the reins or tightened them?”

Julia pressed her lips together. She couldn’t deny Marcus was becoming difficult. In fact, he was becoming all too much like Father. At the last feast she had attended, Marcus had almost dragged her from the room by the arm. He’d swung her into a private chamber where he had accused her of being
excessive
. When she demanded to know what he meant, he said her behavior among his guests reminded him of Arria. Clearly, he hadn’t meant it as a compliment.

Just thinking about it stirred her anger again. What was wrong with making every man in the room want her? Besides, wasn’t that why Marcus had wanted her as his hostess in the first place?

“First your father, then Claudius and Caius,” Calabah said. “And now you allow yourself to be ruled by your brother as well as a gladiator, a man who’s nothing more than a slave of Rome. Oh, Julia,” she said wearily. “When will you learn that you have the power within yourself to control your own destiny?”

Julia sat down, defeated by Calabah’s reasoning and her own turbulent spiraling desires. “Even if I knew a man I could trust enough to marry, I’d have to have Marcus’ consent.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’ve heard of marriage by
usus
, haven’t you?”

“Simply move in with a man?”

“An agreement could be drawn up between you and the man you chose, if you desired, though it wouldn’t be necessary. Marriage by usus is very simple and as legally binding as you wish it to be. Binding enough to regain control of your own money.“

Julia looked up.

“Many women use it to protect their estates,” Calabah said. “Let’s take an example. If this gladiator were free and did want to marry you, do you think he would allow you to control the money you would bring into the marriage? Do you think you could do as you wish? I’ve only met him once, but it was enough to see he would choose to dominate. If you were married to someone else by usus, he couldn’t exert that kind of control. You would have both your money and your freedom in your grasp, and there would be no way he could wrest either one from you. On the other hand, if you married him, everything you have becomes his.”

“And if the man I married by usus wanted to exert control?”

“You just walk out the door. It’s as simple as that. As I said, Julia, this kind of marriage is only as legally binding as
you
will it to be.”

The idea had appeal to Julia, but there was a problem. “I don’t know anyone with whom I could live.”

After a long, heavy silence, Calabah said quietly, “There’s Primus.”

“Primus?” Julia thought of the handsome young man Marcus frequently invited to his celebrations. Primus was well connected politically. He was handsome, charming, and often amusjng—but there was something about him that repulsed Julia. “I don’t find him attractive.”

Calabah laughed softly. “It’s highly unlikely he’d be attracted to you either, my dear. Primus is in love with his catamite.”

Julia blanched. “You’re suggesting I marry a
homosexual
?”

Calabah looked impatient. “As usual, you think as a child, or one so mired in traditional thinking that you fail to see the benefit of anything else. I’m merely presenting you with an acceptable alternative life-style. You’re in love with this gladiator of yours, but you know if you married him, you’d have less freedom than you have now. With Primus, you could do as you want. Atretes could remain your lover, and you would have your money and your freedom. Primus is the perfect husband for you. He’s wonderful to look at, intelligent, entertaining. He’s a close friend of the proconsul. With Primus’ connections, you’d enjoy mingling with the highest levels of Roman and Ephesian society. Best of all, Primus is very easily managed.“