'No scroll arrived for me. Or none that I was given.' Valens looked at the leader of his gladiator school with a steady eye.
Strabo frowned and clapped his hands. A servant appeared instantly at his side.
'Did I or did I not send a scroll to Valens yesterday evening?'
'You did, Master. Aquilia took it along with his.'
'Is Aquilia here?'
'Yes, Master Strabo. He is practising in the centre ring.'
'There you see, Aquilia is here and you are late. You should have offered an excuse while I gave the chance. Next time you check the time and not merely assume. I was about to send guards to fetch you and bring you here, in chains if necessary.' Strabo shook his head. 'I hate to do this to you, Valens, but it will be a fine. First-Hall gladiators should set an example and be on time.'
Without waiting for an answer, Strabo strode away. Valens picked up a blunt sword and started to fence with Tigris.
'What's bothering him?' Valens asked, staring after the lanistra. 'My lateness was an innocent mistake, an inevitable consequence of the housing arrangements.'
'Strabo probably had a thousand problems and you weren't here to solve them. You got off lightly with thirty denarü. He has already sentenced two second-hall gladiators to whippings and one tiro to the hole in the ground.'
'Who was the tiro?" Valens asked, mentally running through the list of gladiators who were set to face their first real challenge in the arena.
'Leoparda. Apparently he argued back to Aquilia, refusing to act as live bait for Aquilia's net practice. Aquilia demanded Strabo take action.'
Leoparda. Valens knew the name—a Nubian who moved with the grace of a cat. He had the potential, but being confined to a cell with barely enough room to move your legs did something to a man. Valens well remembered the rat-infested pit he'd been confined in during his captivity.
'Strabo has never resorted to the pit for such a trivial offence before. Who is this Aquilia character who suddenly runs the show?'
'He's on loan from another school. A rentarius of the first hall, one of the few.'
Valens looked to where Tigris pointed and cold sweat formed on the back of his neck. He tightened his grip on his sword.
The emblem of Alexander was emblazoned on Aquilia's right forearm and he strode around the practice yard as if he was striding on the deck of his ship. Valens's stomach clenched. There was no need to hear the oddly high-pitched voice that floated on the breeze or see the distinctive hooked nose. He knew instinctively who Aquilia had been in his previous existence—the pirate responsible for Valens's capture.
'How the mighty have fallen,' Valens remarked, forcing his arm shield to meet Tigris's next blow.
'Do you know him?'
Tigris paused in his attack. Valens launched a counter-attack and sent Tigris's sword spinning to the sand. Valens reached down and retrieved it.
'The last time I saw Aquilia,' he said, handing the sword back with a flourish, 'he sold me to the African slave trader who sold me to Strabo. He was a pirate then.'
Tigris whistled. 'How the mighty have fallen indeed."
Almost as if Aquilia could hear them talking, he turned and stared at them. Valens stared back. If it pleased the gods to match them in a bout, then he would take his revenge for the sixteen members of his patrol who had died in the pirate's pit.
'We had best to get to practising,' Valens said, deliberately turning from Aquilia without acknowledging him.
'So you are not going to tell me what happened this morning? And why there is a whiff of perfume about you?'
'You are imaging things, Tigris,' Valens said and blocked Tigris's next parry. 'The point is to me, I believe.'
As they squared off for the next round, Valens found himself thinking about Julia, the way her hair had felt under his hands and the softness of her honey-scented skin. Thirty denarü was not too steep a price to pay for the kiss, the taste of her mouth. If he had to do it again, and had known about the change in time, he'd still have stayed for the kiss.
The thought terrified him.
The spindle bounced across the floor as Julia's thread broke for the fourth time that morning. Years of practice generally ensured that her thread was smooth and straight. But today her mind kept returning to the time she spent with Valens in the early morning light and the thread kept breaking.
'Bato, drop,' she commanded as the dog started to nose the spindle.
Bato gave the spindle one more sniff and retreated back to his place by her feet. Ignoring Sabina's filthy look, Julia stood up and retrieved the spindle. She undid a bit of thread, fluffing up the strands, pulled some wool from her distaff, and started the spindle spinning again.
'You seem to have lost your touch, Julia,' Sabina said. 'You should have remembered that your father is not as wealthy as Lucius and you would have to help with the spinning.'
'I spun when I was married to Lucius,' Julia said, biting back the sarcastic words about Sabina's clothes, all of which were of the finest wool and linen. 'The wool doesn't seem to have been carded very well. That's all.'
Julia rolled her eyes. As if the thought of spinning would have put her off divorcing that misbegotten worm. Spinning was far from a loathsome task when put in the proper context. Julia tried to make the thread smooth, enjoying the feel of the wool against her fingers, the steady rhythm of spindle turning. The sound of Bato's snoring filled the room.
'That's about all I have time for.' Sabina started to put her spinning away. Julia noted Sabina had done about half of what she had in the same amount of time. 'I promised to meet some friends at the baths. Flavia may have heard more about the affair Lucia Pulia is having with her porter. The one I was speaking about yesterday. You are welcome to join us, Julia.'
'I think I will stay here and get on with my spinning. After all, you did say we needed new blankets.'
'As you wish, but remember I did offer.' Sabina swept from the room.
Julia breathed in the silence. Immediately, it was broken by the sound of doors slamming. Julia was unable to keep her heart from leaping. Valens?
'Julia, I have returned from the glorious south,' Claudia said, bursting into the room in a cloud of expensive perfume with gold bracelets tinkling musically on each arm. She reached down and gave Bato a scratch behind his left ear. The dog responded by thumping his tail vigorously against the floor. 'How has this scamp been? Found any more good ham bones, Bato?'
'Claudia, don't encourage him. I am trying to very hard to forget that incident.' Julia felt her heart rate return to normal. 'Claudia, when did you get back? I thought you were still in Pompeü—soaking up the sun and enjoying the sights.'
'You must be joking!' Claudia's throaty laugh rang out. 'Me stay in Pompeü when possibly the largest gladiatorial bout ever known to womankind—or mankind, for that matter—is about to take place in Rome? Do you know how much flesh will be on display at the opening ceremony? When those men ride those chariots into the ground with their armour gleaming and their muscles bulging…'
"That's what the main attraction of the games is, and here I thought you enjoyed the contest.' Julia gave the spindle a vigorous twist, lengthening the thread with an expert hand.
Claudia tossed the end of her sky-blue veil over her shoulder and tilted her chin upwards.
'I am only displaying a healthy widow's attitude towards the games. You have to admit gladiators are better looking than the majority of senators.'
"That is not hard to do, Claudia.'
They both laughed and Julia reflected how much she had missed Claudia these past six weeks. Her friend leant forward and stopped the spindle.
'Put the spinning away. It's distracting me,' she said with a wave of her be-ringed hand. 'I want to talk to you, and you might be able to talk and spin, but I can't listen with that thing going round and round. What does Sabina find it impossible to do without this time?'
'Blankets for the beds,' Julia said, breaking the thread and wrapping it around the base of the spindle. 'We apparently need more and Sabina is determined the women of the house participate, to set an example for the servants.'
'I gather Sabina is not here, helping out as it were.'
'She talks a good spindle,' Julia said with as straight a face as she could manage. 'When did you get back?'
'Last night, and the less said about the journey, the better. All roads may lead to Rome, but do they have to be so rocky?' Claudia leant forward and touched Julia on the knee. 'Enough about me. Do tell your news. Have you managed to avoid the dreaded Mettalius or has Sabina's augur struck again? I need to know all.'
'We have a gladiator staying with us.' Julia kept her voice casual as she ended recounting her activities of the last few weeks. 'Valens the Thracian.'
Claudia leant forward, her eyes widening. 'I had heard that Caesar had housed the gladiators with some of his clients, but I'd completely and utterly forgotten your father might be one of them. You got Valens. Lucky, lucky you.'
'What do you know about Valens?' Julia asked, making an effort to lean back, not forwards. To emphasise how casual the question was, she started to wind the thread on the spindle.
Claudia gave her a long considering look with narrowed eyes. Julia's hands faltered and she felt the blush begin to creep higher on her face.
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