'Be serious, Tigris.'

'I'm always serious in matters of the heart.' Tigris gave an elaborate bow. 'You should take her into your bed. It will cure you. It always has before. I find it difficult to think of one woman with whom you have had a long-term relationship. One tumble and you are off and on to pastures new.'

Valens rolled his eyes. He had wondered if the time they shared might decrease his desire for Julia. But his slow reactions today were proving otherwise. He had lost his essential focus.

'I had already thought of that one,' he said, raking his hand through his hair. 'What if it only increases the desire?'

Tigris roared with laughter and clapped Valens on the back. 'Then you keep taking the girl to bed. Eventually one of two things will happen: either you tire of each other or you marry.'

Marriage—the word hung in the air. Valens knew it was what he desired, the only cure for Julia. He forced back images of her lying in his bed, with her hair spread out on his chest, their limbs entwined. What man alive would not want to spend the rest of the time allotted to him in that way? What would a child of theirs look like?

'Marriage is forbidden between patrician women and slaves, you know that,' Valens said through clenched teeth.

'I fail to see that as a problem.'

'I'm still a slave, not a contract gladiator like you.'

Tigris's face sobered. 'Since when has a little thing like that stopped you? Go and buy your freedom. You are then a freeman and a rich one. If you need the money, I am happy to loan you some until you sell one of your estates in Capua. Stop putting non-existent obstacles in your way. You may name your first child after me.'

'Next you will have me believing in fairy stories.' Valens gave a nod to the surgeon and allowed the surgeon's assistant to start rubbing salve into his shoulder while the surgeon bound Tigris's arm. Tigris had little understanding of Roman society, what doors would be forever closed to Julia, but he knew Julius Antonius knew. And he knew he was right. The only way to go forward was to continue with his plan and hope. 'It is amazing what these doctors can do with a bit of medicine, instead of resorting to chants and superstition.'

'You are stubborn,' Tigris said and his next words quashed Valens's hope that he would take the hint and change the subject. 'Strabo would have allowed you to buy your freedom years ago. He made the offer at the same time I purchased my freedom.'

'I told you then and I tell you now, I want to win my freedom. Purchasing my freedom means nothing to me.' Valens leant his head back against the rough-hewn plaster of the infirmary and closed his eyes.

The argument had nearly led to the break up of their friendship. Tigris refused to understand why Valens was content to be a slave. He did not understand that, without honour, Valens had no standing in society and his sons, if he should have them, would always be looked down upon, sneered at. Without the honour the wooden sword would bring, it was unlikely Julius Antonius would ever agree to ally his family with Valens.

'You would be purchasing it with your winnings,' Tigris argued back. 'I know how wealthy you are, Valens, and shutting your eyes will not make the force of my argument go away.'

'How's Maia and the children?' Valens asked, blatantly trying to distract Tigris.

He watched Tigris throw up his hands in disgust and knew he had won. The prodding was over.

'Maia arrives tonight, if all goes to plan.'

'But I thought you were worried about Aquilia.'

'I will worry a lot less if they are under my watchful eye. I have rented a house in the Aventine. It has a good view of the Circus. They will be able to watch without the jostling of the crowds.'

The Circus Maximus where the games were to be held nestled in the hollow between the two most important hills in Rome—the Palatine, where Valens had grown up, and the Aventine, where the masses lived. It symbolised the meeting of the two halves of Roman society for the games and for the chariot races—two passions both sections of society shared.

Valens thought, with a pang of nostalgia, of how he'd loved watching the games at the Circus, and how one day he'd made the mistake of voicing his love for the games and rousing his father's anger. It was why, when the ransom had not arrived, it had been confirmation of something he'd always known. His father preferred death before dishonour.

'I look forward to seeing Maia.'

Tigris's eyes grew grave.

'Valens, you need to fight against something. I need to fight for someone. Maia and the children we have are those people.'

'Did I say a word?' Valens tried to push the thoughts out of his mind. With Julia, he had lost the will to fight. His desire to stay alive was greater than his desire to win. Valens stooped and picked up a handful of sand, allowing it to trickle through his fingers. He had to find a way, otherwise all hopes for the future were doomed. He gave an ironic laugh. His future depended on his fighting as if he had no future. "The situation is very complicated.'

Tigris clasped Valens's arms. 'You can always stay with us.'

Valens shook his head. To see the love Tigris and Maia had for each other would only increase his need to be with Julia. It would tear at his soul and show what he had lost. But he could not explain this to Tigris, not now. Instead he opted for a laugh. 'I have stayed with you before. I will just get in the way.'

'The door is open and the offer is there.'

'I'll remember that.' Valens stood up and rotated his shoulder, intending to let the offer quietly drop. 'Shall we go out and brave the practice ring again?'


Julia put down the scroll and moved to the window, but the courtyard was virtually empty, just two of the household servants cleaning the fountain. She let out a soft breath. The words of the augur kept ringing in her mind—returned from the dead. Who was a modern-day Orpheus?

If only Valens was a Roman… Julia put a hand to her throat. Of course he was a Roman, but one in disgrace. Disgrace was not the same as death. But what if his family had thought him dead? They had left him to die in the pirate's hold. And what if she could effect a reconciliation? She could give him back his past.

She started to pace the room. Where to start? She needed to have a plan, a place to begin. Bato nudged her hand. She bent down to stroke him, but sighed. He had something in his mouth. 'Give.'

Bato placed the figurine of Valens on the floor with a sheepish look. Julia picked it and regarded it. The day they met, Valens had said that she knew him because of the figurine. But the figurine was wearing a helmet. His features were familiar from somewhere else. Julia shut her eyes and willed it to come to her. At the edge of her mind she saw it— a death mask, one that hung in the Gracchus compound. A clue? Her heart beat faster. She needed more than a feeling.

"That's it, Bato, you are a marvel.'

She walked down the corridor and pushed Valens's door open. The room still held his faint smell, making her limbs tremble. She hesitated, her heart thumping louder than the drums on the Campo Martial in her ears, then walked purposefully over to the small wooden trunk.

As she hoped, it was unlocked. With a loud creak, she opened it and stared at the items: several tunics, a cloak and another box. She picked it up. This one was locked. She tightened her lips and made a face.

So much for great ideas.

One by one she replaced his garments, taking care that each was put back exactly how she had found them, the smell of him clinging to her fingers and enveloping her. She felt a warmth engulf her as she remembered how his arms had held her tightly against his body. As her hand brushed the cloak, smoothing out the final wrinkles, a pin pricked her.

She put her index finger into her mouth, making sure no blood dropped on the dark blue cloak, then took a closer look at the brooch fastened on the collar, expecting to see the lion from Strabo's school, but it wasn't.

She stared at the two greyhounds on either side of a three-pointed rock. It reminded her of her ex-father-in-law's signet ring. Her hands started trembling. Senator Gracchus's son had died about five years ago, shortly before his wife. Could it be?

She sat back on her feet, dismissing the idea as being ludicrous. The more she thought, the more it refused to go away.

She tried to remember if she had ever seen a grave. Or was it simply a death mask? Was his death mask the one she remembered? The reason she thought she knew Valens?

He looked nothing like her ex-husband. Lucius had been the son of the senator's wife's sister, the nearest male relation who was willing to be adopted—it was important that the Gracchus name continue. Senator Gracchus had to have an heir. It was the Roman custom.

Julia put a hand to her throat, playing with her beads. What to do? Her body trembled with excitement. She had to know. She had to grab the chance, as slight as it might be.

She should have visited Gracchus a long time ago, listened more fully to his stories. She didn't even know what the son's name had been. Gaius? Gneus? Julia sighed and shook her head. The precise name escaped her. Every time she had visited with Lucius and the question of his son had been raised, Lucius had behaved strangely, changing the subject as soon as possible.

Julia smoothed the cloak one last time before replacing it in the trunk. Finding out about the son's death might be difficult, but it should be relatively straightforward to see the death mask that hung on the back of Gracchus's atrium. It would take but a glance and she could rest her mind. She had to be certain. And once she was, she'd solve all her problems. For the first time in a long time, Julia thought she saw the glimmer of light. But before she could do anything, she needed an excuse to visit.