A Voice in the Wind (66 page)

Atretes was matched against a swarthy, black-eyed Thracian, who was armed with a scimitar. Grinning arrogantly, the Thracian swung his weapon around in a theatrical sword play. He twirled his sword from one side of his body to the other and over his head, and then stopped, feet spread.

Standing in a deceptively relaxed pose, Atretes spit on the sand.

The crowd laughed. Enraged, the Thracian charged. Atretes ducked the deadly swing of the scimitar, rammed his scutum into his opponent, brought the hilt of his gladius down across the side of the man’s head, then plunged it into the Thracian’s breastplate. Yanking the gladius free, he let the already dead man fall back.

Turning, he saw a retiarius using his trident to spear a fallen secutor, whose fish-crested helmet offered him little protection. Atretes strode toward the victor purposefully, aware of the swelling sound of his followers. The retiarius yanked his trident free and tried to retrieve.his tangled net before Atretes reached him.

Atretes charged, and the retiarius managed to block his first and second blow. But without his net, Atretes’ opponent had only the trident to defend himself, and the German’s years of experience with a framea gave him the advantage. With brute force, Atretes battered the retiarius with scutum and gladius until he found an opening. He took it.

The crowd screamed wildly, and his name sounded like a drum beat. But in Atretes’ own mind, the cry was, “Freedom… freedom…
freedom
!”

Before the retiarius had fallen, searing pain burst along Atretes’ side as a dimachaerus’ dagger glanced off his rib cage. He stumbled back, blocking a frontal attack with his scutum. Regaining his balance, he uttered a cry of pain and rage. No foul little back-stabber was going to take this chance from him! He swung his gladius with all his strength and bent the dimachaerus’ shield in half, knocking him to his knees. Dropping the now useless scutum, the man scrambled to his feet and ran, knowing his dagger was no match against a gladius. To the glee of the crowd, Atretes ran after him. As he did so, he bent and snatched up the fallen retiarius’ trident, took a hopping step, and hurled it with the skill he had learned in using a framea.

The mob went wild when the trident hit its mark. Men stood and pounded on those in front of them, women screamed in mad abandon. Some fainted, overcome with excitement, while others tore at their clothes and hair and jumped up and down. The earth beneath the stadium trembled.

“Atretes! Atretes! Atretes!”

Atretes caught their bloodlust and let it reign. He cut down a mirmillo and attacked a Samnite. He unleashed his rage against Rome, allowing hatred to pump through him, sending the strength he needed surging through his wounded body. Knocking the scutum from his opponent’s arm, he gutted him like a fish.

Turning, he looked for whoever stood between him and his freedom. Thousands of spectators were on their feet, waving white banners and chanting. It was a moment before Atretes’ mind cleared and he realized what the mob screamed so loudly: “
Atretes! Atretes! Atretes
!”

He was the last man standing.

Julia trembled violently as Atretes walked toward a gateway that opened to the stairs he would climb to the platform where the proconsul waited to award the victor. She was torn between jubilation and fear. She loved him and was proud of his triumph, but she knew his newly won freedom would jeopardize her own liberty.

As Atretes walked toward the stairs, he stumbled and fell to one knee. The crowd gasped and grew quiet, but he used his gladius and pushed himself up again. The crowd cheered wildly as he reached the gate to the victor’s platform, where a soldier opened it for him and drew back in respect as he ascended the stone steps. The proconsul was waiting, a laurel wreath of victory, an ivory pendant, and a wooden sword in his arms.

Julia scarcely heard what the proconsul said as he placed the laurel wreath on Atretes’ head. Then the politician’s daughter looped the small rectangular ivory pendant proclaiming Atretes’ freedom around his neck. Jealousy swept like a hot flood through Julia as the girl pulled Atretes’ head down to kiss him full on the mouth. Women screamed ecstatically around her, and Julia wanted to press her hands over her ears and turn away. Sertes handed Atretes the wooden sword, proclaiming his triumphant retirement from the arena, and two soldiers deposited a chest of sesterces at Atretes’ feet.

The proconsul raised his hand to the cheering masses. Within a moment, the stadium was quiet. Thousands craned forward to hear what reward would be given the triumphant victor next.

“We have one last honor to bestow upon our beloved Atretes for his victory today!“ the proconsul called out. He turned dramatically and took a scroll from Sertes hand. ”I bestow this by order of Emperor Vespasian,“ he called out and extended the scroll to Atretes, who accepted it mechanically. The proconsul put his hand on Atretes* shoulder and turned him to face the thousands, proclaiming, ”Atretes is hereby made a citizen and defender of Rome.“

Atretes stiffened briefly, his face going pale and taut with violent emotions. Julia saw his fist clench at the proclamation.

“See how he hates Rome,” Calabah said, leaning close to Julia as the mob cheered in adoration. “He would throw that proclamation in the dust if it didn’t give him everything he wants.” Calabah’s words blended with the cries of the mob as they began shouting his name again and again. “He stands an equal with your father and brother now.”

Atretes turned his head, seeking Julia out among the proconsul’s guests. He looked straight into her eyes, his own blazing with promise, which made her heart race. For one terrifying moment, she thought he meant to claim her right then and there. Instead, Sertes and several Roman guards escorted him down the steps, across the arena, and to the Door of Life, inside which his wounds would be tended.

Primus helped Julia to her feet. “You’re shaking,” he said with a knowing smile. “But then, I imagine every woman in this stadium is trembling at the sight of him. He is magnificent.”

“Yes, he is,” she said, remembering the look in his eyes. Now that he had his freedom, what was to keep him from trying to make her his slave? Her mouth went dry.

Primus lifted her easily into the canopied litter so that she could be borne aloft by six of his slaves. Before he drew the curtains closed, he tipped his head and gave her a faint, but charming, smile. “So, what have you decided?”

Julia’s stomach tightened until it hurt. When she spoke, her voice was flat. “I’ll sign the agreement this evening and have my things brought to your villa tomorrow morning.”

“How very wise of you, Julia,” Calabah exclaimed from behind Primus, her eyes gleaming. Primus took Julia’s hand and kissed it.

As he drew the curtains closed, she leaned back and closed her eyes, wondering why she suddenly felt so desolate.

33

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Julia’s announcement that she was leaving home and moving in with Primus burst with the force of a volcano upon the Valerian household. Marcus was furious, Phoebe appalled.

“You can’t do this, Julia!” her mother said, fighting to retain control of her emotions. “What will I tell your father?”

“Don’t tell him anything if you’re afraid it’ll upset him,” Julia said, closing her ears to her mother’s appeal and giving in to her own emotions.

“Upset him!” Marcus gave a sardonic laugh. “Why would he be upset to find out his daughter is moving in with a homosexual?”

She turned to him angrily. “It’s my life and I’ll do as I please. I’m moving in with Primus and there’s nothing you can do about it! If Primus is so abominable, why have you invited him to your feasts?”

“Because it’s politically expedients.”

“In other words, though you despise him, you use him,” she said.

“As he’ll be using you if you enter into this ridiculous farce you claim will be a marriage.”

“The marriage will be mutually beneficial, I assure you,” she said haughtily. “I want a full accounting of what’s mine by the end of the week, Marcus, and from then forward, I’ll handle my own financial affairs. And you needn’t look at me like that! My money will remain mine. Primus can’t touch it.” She glanced briefly at her mother’s stricken face. “If you don’t like any of this, Mother, then I’m very sorry, but I have to do what will make me happy.”

She went into her room, Marcus close on her heels. “You’ll go through everything you have within a year,” he said. “Who put this foolishness in your head? Calabah?”

Julia glared at him. “Calabah doesn’t think for me. I think for myself. I’m not the fool you think I am.” She ordered one of the servants to bring a cart around while the others took her trunks out to be loaded.

“I never thought you a fool, Julia. Not until now.”

Julia’s chin jerked up, her dark eyes blazing. “My jewel box, Hadassah,” she said in trembling fury. “We’re leaving now.”

“Oh, no,” Marcus said, losing his temper further. “Hadassah isn’t leaving here unless I say so.”

“Just what
is
Hadassah to you?” she demanded with chilling softness. “She’s my slave, though it appears you want her for yourself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Phoebe said from the doorway.

“Am I being ridiculous, Mother?” Julia’s dark eyes burned as she looked between her brother and Hadassah. “Take the box downstairs, Hadassah,
now
. And wait for me at the sedan chair.”

“Yes, my lady,” Hadassah said softly and obeyed.

Marcus jerked Julia around to face him arid held her there. “You’ve changed.”

“Yes,” Julia agreed. “I’ve changed. I’ve grown up and developed a mind of my own. My eyes are open, Marcus, wide open. Isn’t that how you always encouraged me to be? Wasn’t it you who introduced me to all the finer things the world has to offer? Wasn’t it you who told me to watch out for people who would betray me? Well, dear brother, I’ve learned my lessons well. Now take your hands off me!”

Frowning, Marcus let her go and watched her walk out of the room.

“Julia, please,” Phoebe said, following her. “Think what you’re doing. If you enter a marriage like this, you’ll be sullied.”

“Sullied?” Julia said and laughed. “Mother, you’ve been locked behind Father’s walls so long, you know nothing of the world. I’ll be considered a woman of independent means, a woman of substance. And you know why? Because I won’t have to crawl to my father or my brother to beg for my own money. I won’t have to account to anyone for anything I choose to do.”

“Do you despise me so much?” Phoebe said softly.

“I don’t despise you, Mother. I just don’t want to be like you.”

“But, Julia, you don’t love this man.”

“I didn’t love Claudius either, did I? But that didn’t stop Father and you from forcing me into marrying him,” she said bitterly. “You can’t possibly understand, Mother. You’ve done exactly what was expected of you all your life!”

“Explain to me then. Make me understand.”

“It’s quite simple. I won’t be a bondservant to any man, be he father, brother, or husband. Primus won’t dictate my life as Father has always dictated yours. I’ll answer only to myself.“ Julia kissed her mother’s pale cheek. ”Good-bye, Mother.“ With that, she left Phoebe standing in the corridor.

Primus greeted Julia with a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Only one little slave and a box of jewels?” he said. “It was bad, wasn’t it? I’ve found Marcus intolerant about certain things. He’s never allowed me to bring Prometheus to one of his feasts. I suppose he tried to stop you from moving in with me.”

“I thought he would understand.”

“Dear Julia. Your brother isn’t the man he appears to be. Beneath that epicurean mask he wears beats the heart of a traditionalist.” Primus petted her hand soothingly. “Give your mother and father time, and they’ll accept things.” He smiled faintly. “What else can they do if they ever want to see their beautiful daughter again?”

Just then, a young man of no more than fourteen entered the room. “Ah,” Primus said, holding out his hand. The boy took it and allowed himself to be pulled forward and presented to Julia.

“This is my beloved Prometheus,” Primus said, watching proudly as the boy bowed respectfully to Julia. “I’ll be with you shortly,” he said, smiling at the boy, who bowed again and left.

Julia felt an unpleasant sensation curling in the pit of her stomach. “He is quite charming,” she remarked politely.

“Yes, he is, isn’t he?” Primus said, pleased.

Julia forced a smile. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be shown to my chambers. My things should arrive shortly,” she said.

“Of course. I’ll show you the way.” He ushered her through the archway into the sunny peristyle and then up the marble steps to the second floor. Her room was next to his own.

As soon as he left, Julia sank down wearily onto the couch. “Put my jewel box here,” she told Hadassah, indicating the small table beside her. Hadassah set it down carefully. Julia opened the lid and dug her fingers into the baubles and necklaces. “The first thing I’m going to do when I have my money is replace the things I’ve had to give to Sertes.” She closed the lid with a bang.

She rose and wandered around the room. “Prometheus looks just like those effeminate boys who rode with Bacchus.” Fingering the wall hanging, she remembered the wild celebrations in Rome, when a drunken man rode through the city streets on a flowered cart that was pulled by a leopard.

“My lady, are you sure you want to remain here?”

Julia let go of the Babylonian tapestry and turned to face Hadassah. “So you disapprove as well,” she said with dangerous softness.

Hadassah went to her. Kneeling, she took her hand. “My lady, you’re in love with Atretes.”

Julia snatched her hand away and stood. “Yes, I love Atretes. Moving in with Primus doesn’t change that. Primus is free to live however he pleases, and so am I.”

Hadassah stood, eyes downcast. “Yes, my lady,” she said softly.

Julia pushed her doubts away, focusing her mind on material things. “It’s a lovely room, but too small. And I don’t like the murals with all those little boys. As soon as Marcus releases my money, I’ll buy another villa, bigger than this one, one grand enough for me and Atretes. Primus can have his own floor.”