'I am truly happy for you, Tigris,' Valens repeated. 'I can't think of anyone who deserves it more.'

'And you? What will you do?' Tigris nodded towards where Aquilia lounged, the only gladiator not to have congratulated Tigris on his good fortune.

'I'll fight.' Valens held up the palms of his hands. 'It is in the lap of the gods but I have a job to do.

'He will be tough, but I will find his weakness, you can count on that. He will not turn me to stone. Tonight we will be raising our winecups in celebration of your freedom.'

The trumpets sounded and another pair of gladiators walked out into the arena. Valens began his final preparations, taking comfort in the small automatic rituals of checking his equipment


Julia stared at the two security guards, standing with their axes crossed, preventing her from entering the area.

'I had a ticket I tell you,' she said searching through the folds in her shawl for a third time. 'Maia, Tigris's wife, gave it to me this morning before the parade.'

The security guards exchanged a look.

'That is what they all say.'

'No, honestly.' Julia felt the panic rising in her throat She had lost the ticket All her plans were going to be ruined. She had decided to make a stand and now these two oafs blocked her way.

She started to readjust her stola and her hand touched Val-ens's brooch. She undid it and held it out to the security guard.

'You say you work for Strabo, but do you recognise this? It belongs to Valens the Thracian gladiator. He gave it to me…'

She waited as the two guards consulted. One went off. The trumpets blew, signalling the start of another bout, and Julia stood on her tiptoes, trying to see. Each glimpse was precious. She felt sure Valens would look towards the family enclosure. He had to see what she had done. That she had made her decision in the most public way possible.

'All right,' the burly guard came back. 'I've spoken to the boss. You can go in. He has seen Valens wear that brooch. No trickery, mind you. They are about to signal the last bout.'

Julia clasped her hands together, took a deep breath and started forward. The trumpets blared a complicated fanfare and she began to run. She made her way to the edge of the enclosure, pushing past various people, trying to see what was going on in the arena. When she reached the front, she looked directly at the box and nodded to her father.

A small stab of pleasure filled her as she watched Sabina notice and point. She waved back and watched Sabina's face grow redder and redder. She saw her stepmother start to make angry gestures. It felt wonderful to watch Sabina impotent for once, reduced to merely opening and closing her mouth.

There was no point in thinking about what might have been. She had reached her discrimen, her dividing line, and gone beyond it. Now she could only go forwards.

'The die is cast,' she whispered, quoting the line from Meander's famous play. 'Let my die fall where they will.'

She noticed a man gesturing towards her.

'I'm Strabo, the owner of this school and you are…' The man in a badly fitting wig leant towards her.

'Julia Antonia.' At Strabo's hooded look, she hesitated. Then she tightened her hold on the brooch. 'Valens's woman.'

'Bah, he has no woman. He is a lone wolf.'

Julia held out the brooch. 'He does now.'

'Just so.' Strabo touched the side of his nose and his lips stretched to the briefest of smiles. 'Afterwards we talk, but now the fun begins.'

Julia's breath stopped in her throat. She watched Valens stride out of the tunnel, looking every inch the perfect warrior. This morning's brilliant splendour of silver had been replaced by much more mundane steel. Even from where she sat, Julia could see the hammered-out dents from previous battles. She had expected Valens to come out carrying his helmet like the other gladiators had done, but his visor was firmly locked on his head.

She stood up, trying to make it easier for him to spot her, to see what she had done. He never looked her way. Julia sank down, her knees trembling too much to hold her.

The trumpets played a faint mournful tune, then a great cheer went up through the crowd.

'What does that mean?'

'It is a signal for a fight to the death. I hope Caesar understands how much this pair is worth. Whatever happens, his purse will be much lighter,' Strabo answered, leaning forward.

Julia felt ice invade her veins. She wanted to run and hide, but her feet were rooted to the spot and she was unable to tear her eyes away. Her hand curled around the brooch and she started to pray as she had never prayed before. He had to live, to survive.


At the sound of the trumpets, Valens started forward. He gave his helmet one last click and did not acknowledge Aquilia's snarl. His gaze swept around the arena again searching for Julia. If she were anywhere in the arena, she would be under the watchful eye of her father. Valens made a quick check of the purple-draped box—there was no sign of her.

His heart constricted. He had hoped to see her one last time before this bout, but the gods had decreed he would not. He gave a bow to Caesar and to the rest of the occupants and then crouched in his stance, waiting for Aquilia to make the first move.

They circled each other, testing and probing for strengths and weaknesses. Valens moved forward and slashed with his sword. Aquilia jumped away.

'You will have to do better than that, Tribune,' he called, wiping a hand across his mouth before spitting at Valens's feet.

'Why do you call me a tribune?' Valens blocked a thrust from Aquilia's trident.

Aquilia's eyes narrowed. 'Because I remember you. I remember every last detail about your time with me. The feel of the deck beneath my feet, the smell of salt and blood in my nose. There is a certain sweetness to the stench.'

The horror of the fetid pirate's hold swept over Valens. He heard Aquilia's voice and remembered the time when Aquilia strode across the deck of the trireme with the power of death in his voice. He felt the cold creep of fear along his spine. How much did Aquilia remember that he had forgotten?

Valens used his shield to block a stab with the trident.

'I remember everything,' Aquilia's voice became singsong, lulling him, as hypnotic as a snake. Valens knew he should be concentrating on finding an opening, but Aquilia's voice sent out silken tendrils that caught his mind and dragged him back to those dark days. 'How you cried when your friends died, how you raged with anger when the ransom did not arrive, how you begged me to spare your life and sell you as a slave.'

The last words cut through the ropes that bound his mind.

Valens straightened, lifted his shield and sword, prepared to attack

'I never begged you.'

'You always begged me.' Aquilia grinned as he circled the net above his head. 'As you will beg me soon to end your life.'

Valens heard the net hiss, dropped to the ground and rolled away from it. Sand and grit filled his nose and mouth. He rose to his feet and stared back at the glowering gladiator whose every breath radiated menace. Aquilia slapped his thigh with the trident three times.

'I'm waiting, boy.' Aquilia took a step forward. 'Waiting to hear your mewling cries, just as you did before. Crying for your gods to save you. Guess what—they didn't answer. You have been abandoned by everyone and everything you held dear. Nobody cares for you.'

Valens wiped a hand across his face and took control of his emotions. His mind cleared. The secret of Aquilia's success was obvious now. Aquilia used the fear he had installed in his captives as a pirate captain to numb his opponents, to make them lose their concentration and start making fatal errors. Valens smiled grimly. Aquilia cast his web of lies effectively but he had neglected one gaping hole. Julia. Now it remained to be seen if Aquilia was as good with his trident and net as he was with his words.

Valens crouched low and pretended to cower. Aquilia's grin widened. He cast the net again, throwing with a lazy and practised ease.

As the net arced through the air towards him, Valens reached out a hand. He grabbed the end with its silver weights, ignoring the sting as the weights hit his forearm, and pulled Aquilia towards him.

'Next time tell the truth.'

He released the net and Aquilia tumbled backwards, fuming. Valens hit his shield with his sword.

'Let's see if you are any better at fighting than you are at weaving stories to frighten the gullible. Let's see who is better—the tribune or the pirate.'


Julia gasped as she watched Valens's blade flash in the late afternoon sun. The arena was fall to groaning now and with each slash of the sword or block of the shield, the crowd began chanting another slogan.

First Valens pressed forward, trying to strike. Aquilia parried the stab with his trident, blocking and seeking an opening for his net. Twice she had thought Aquilia would trap him, beat him to the ground, but each time Valens managed to roll away, or sidestep at the last possible opportunity.

She pressed her hands together and wondered how long Valens could keep up the nimble footwork.

The heat, his armour and the head wound from last night all had to be telling, slowing him down. Julia tried to push the thought away and concentrate on how brilliantly Valens sidestepped a trident thrust and answered it with a downward : cut of his own.

The two combatants backed off and then rushed towards each other again.