Seduced by the Gladiator (30 page)

The emperor tilted his head up, looked at the sky, at the gray clouds that continued to swirl through it. The rain that had been threatening to pour began to sprinkle down on us, like a gift from the gods. When he had finished contemplating whatever it was he thought of, he turned to Viola.

He surprised us all when he placed a very, very gentle hand on the curve of her stomach.

“And you, my dear. Where do you wish to go?”

Viola’s eyes darted left, then right, to me and Christus, to the emperor, and back to me. I could see that she was completely overwhelmed by the question.

I knew, from things that she had told me, that she had never been asked a question like that in her life.

“I wish to go with Lilia, wherever she goes.” I felt a strange thump in the vicinity of my heart. “Even if you send her back to the ludus—which you should not—I would go and serve in the house there. She is the first person who has ever shown me kindness.” Again startled by her outburst, she ducked her head, mumbling the last. “If you would have me, of course.”

“Hmm.” The emperor regarded each of us in turn. When his eyes fell on me, I saw why the man had such fervent followers.

His eyes were magnetic, pulling those around him ever closer.

“I have made my decision.” Without warning, the emperor began to walk again. With a sidelong glance at Christus, then at Viola, who regarded me with wide eyes, we followed.

We had no other choice, after all.

The emperor walked back through the market, back to the vendor at which we had first seen him. With a wave of his hand that was so slight I barely noticed it, he beckoned for the man who had followed us through the market to come forward.

The dark-skinned giant did as he was asked, never taking his eyes from his charge.

“Liupold. The leaves.” The emperor sounded triumphant, and I was puzzled.

Christus’ face showed me that he felt the same. Leaves? The emperor was going to give us leaves?

Liupold reached into the folds of his woolen cloak, and when he withdrew his hand, he held three fresh, slightly crushed palm leaves in his fingers.

Palm leaves.

The rhythm of my heartbeat increased its speed. I could not dare to hope.

“Oh.” The squeak emitted by Viola told me that she had seen what I had—that these three leaves now held in the hand of the most powerful man in Rome were indeed palm leaves.

Christus said nothing, but when I dared to look at his face, I saw that he was trying to swallow back a great deal of emotion.

“You know what these are, my dear?” The emperor looked at Viola, and again I saw that whisper of extra caring in his manner toward her. A small smile seemed to play around the corners of his lips, but before I could fix my gaze on it, it was gone.

“They . . . those cannot be . . . palm leaves?” The quiver in Viola’s voice echoed how I was feeling.

As a slave, to be presented with a palm leaf by your owner meant that he was granting you your freedom. Though we were not owned by the emperor, I did not think that anyone would dare to dispute his decision.

My knees began to tremble, and I reached out blindly for Christus’ hand. I found that it was not entirely steady either.

“Viola. Your master, my treacherous brother, no longer lives. Still I present you this leaf as assurance that you will not be sold to another.” Viola stared at the leaf dumbly, and this time the emperor truly did smile.

“Take it, Viola.” With a touch that was very nearly tentative, the man reached out and placed a palm flat on her belly. “It is yours. You have earned it.”

“I . . . I can never repay you.” Tears began to fall from Viola’s large eyes, and I wanted to wrap her in my arms. I sensed that she needed to stand alone, needed to take this step independently, so I remained still.

“It is I who must repay you.” The emperor removed his hand from Viola’s belly and turned to me. “All of you risked your lives against my brother. You will be rewarded with more than these leaves.”

And then mine was in my hand. I stared at it dumbly, the leaf shaking. I thought that there must be a wind, and then I realized that it was my hand.

I was free. I was a freedman.

“Oh.” Clutching a hand to my mouth, I turned to Christus, freezing when I saw the fierce pride that rioted over his features as the emperor handed him the final palm leaf.

Viola and I had been slaves for most of our lives, and had known little else.

Christus, however, had been born free. Now, after enduring things that no man should ever have to endure, he was free again.

“I take my leave. Your compensation will find you within the day, wherever you may go. It is not wise for such transaction to take place in a market.” I turned to Christus, wanting to run into his arms, but finding myself frozen in place.

We could be together. We were alive.

“Be well, my dear.” Taking her tiny hand in his own, the emperor raised Viola’s fingers to his lips for a kiss. She stuttered, her face turning a bright shade of red.

“Th-thank you, Your Imperial Majesty.” And then the man was gone, striding away from the market. Liupold and, after a moment, several others followed him like shadows.

I looked at Viola, and then I cast my gaze upon my lover. I could not quite believe it, but it seemed to be true.

We were free.

E
PILOGUE

T
he small house sat on a grassy hill, a swell of land that sloped down to the sea. It was not as large a building as the one that had contained the ludus, but none of us cared.

For now, it represented freedom, and it was home.

Caius and Marcus worked in the yard, their muscles straining as they worked on what appeared to be an ornate piece of furniture. This, I knew, was how they now made their living.

Christus, Viola, and I did not yet know how we would contribute, but for the moment, the generous pouches of coin gifted to us by the emperor would be more than enough.

“Brother!” Marcus shouted a greeting as he set eyes upon us. Swiping a heavily muscled forearm over his sweaty brow, he stood straight, and Caius followed suit, moving to his lover and placing a hand on the small of his back. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes of the love within this household.

It was a strange situation all around, but I did not care. My gut told me that this would be the right thing to do.

“Are they here?” The front door to the house opened, and a woman with an elegant beauty appeared in the opening. This had to be Alba. She was dressed in a simple cloth tunic and had a small baby tucked beneath one arm, but her bearing spoke of her noble roots.

I felt intimidated, and from the way that Viola ducked her head and crowded in close to me, I could tell that she felt the same.

“It is lovely to meet you.” Alba was so warm, so welcoming, that my reserves could not help but thaw.

I no longer needed to be on guard all of the time. After years spent vigilantly watching my back, it was a habit that was hard to break.

“And Viola. I hope the journey was not too difficult for you. Come inside.” I saw Alba’s eyes travel over the frame of the girl, who was so pregnant that she was close to bursting.

Viola’s eyes flickered with hope. After all of the cruelty that she had suffered through, she wanted nothing more than to belong to a family, no matter how atypical that family might be.

“Thank you.” Alba led Viola to the door of the house, and I followed, knowing that the girl would be anxious if I were not there. But the words that I spoke were to my lover as I tugged my fingers gently from his.

“Thank you.” He had never looked handsomer to me.

“Do you think that you will be happy here? At least for a while?” Christus’ voice was shadowed with concern. It had been his idea to travel to the home in which Caius and Marcus lived with their wife and infant daughter. He had thought that it could be a safe haven in which we could live or, at the very least, gain our bearings.

The coin given to us by the emperor had been enough that we had not bothered to return to the ludus to retrieve any belongings, any of our former winnings.

Neither of us ever wanted to see the inside of a ludus or an arena again.

“I will be happy so long as I am with you.” My heart lifted as I spoke the plain words, and I knew that I spoke true.

My life was now simple. So was Christus’. The emotion that I had seen on the emperor’s face as he had touched Viola’s swollen belly had told me that perhaps her future would not be quite so tidy, but for now at least, she could just live, could have her baby in peace.

I had freedom, and I had love. It was better than any other victory in the world.

G
LOSSARY

Balteus:
a sword belt.

Carpentum:
a common type of ancient Roman carriage or wagon.

Cingulum:
a wide leather belt, often reinforced with metal, worn about the waist by gladiators to protect from injury to the vital organs.

Denarii:
the common silver coin of Roman currency.

Domina:
the feminine form of dominus.

Dominus:
the title meaning master or owner, particularly of slaves.

Doctore:
the trainer of gladiators at a ludus.

Freedmen:
male and female slaves who had earned their freedom.

Gaul:
a region of Western Europe during the Roman era, inhabited by the Gaul people, or Celts.

Litter:
a type of human-powered transport, usually consisting of a lounge or bed attached to four posts, which are manned by people, usually slaves.

Ludus:
a gladiatorial school.

Mulsum:
An alcoholic drink made with wine and honey.

Munera:
provided by the wealthy, these were public works to benefit the masses. The arena games were one of the most common types of munera.

Palla:
a Roman woman’s shawl.

Pater familias:
the head of a Roman family.

Patrician:
refers to the elite families of ancient Rome.

Pits:
The common term for the quarry from which building stones were mined. The stones, which were used for nearly all buildings in ancient Rome, were mined by slaves.

Plebeian:
common, working-class or lower-class citizens of ancient Rome.

Pluto:
a Roman god of the underworld.

Senator:
a member of the Roman senate, a political institution and advisory/governing body in Rome. Senators were not elected, but appointed.

Strophium:
the brief leather garment worn by a female gladiator to cover her breasts.

Subligaculum:
the brief garment worn by gladiators to protect their modesty.

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

T
his book was a difficult one for me to spit out. I owe thanks to a lot of people who helped to make it happen. First and foremost, my editor, Chelsey, who was so incredibly supportive and who held my hand when my computer ate a massive chunk of the book. You rock, Chelsey! And to the rest of the Avon team, who do things for books that I don’t even know about. Then there’s my amazing agent, Deidre Knight, who always makes me smile. My mom and my sister both came to my rescue more than once during the writing of this book, wining and dining me and (most important!) watching the toddler so that I could rock the word count. Thanks to my fantabulous critique partner, Suzanne Rock, and her mad plotting skillz—and word sprint challenges. To my girl Avery Aster, who cheered me on more than once. As always, to the Sirens and Scribes—Suzanne Rock, Amanda Vyne, Barbara J. Hancock, Juliana Stone, Sara Fawkes, D.L. Snow, Grace Conley, Elle Ricci, Nini Angell, and Cora Zane. It’s been years for most of us, ladies, and I couldn’t do it without you! And of course, to Rob and Ben. I love my boys.

Can’t get enough of the gladiators?

Keep reading for a sexy peek at Lauren Hawkeye’s erotic

MY WICKED GLADIATORS
,

available now from Avon Books,

and find out how the story began . . .

An Excerpt from

MY WICKED GLADIATORS

I
did not want to want him.

Yet as I stood on the balcony that overlooked the training area of my family’s
ludus
—the most prestigious of gladiator training schools—my husband by my side, want is what I did. I could see nothing of the mock battle beneath me but him. His sweat, his blood, falling down to the dry dust that ground beneath the worn leather that covered his feet.

Never mind that I could never have him. Dreams of what his touch could bring me only increased the need that thrummed through my veins like flocking birds.

“You’re quite flushed, Alba.” Lucius, my husband, touched a hand to my elbow and peered into my face with concern. “We should retire inside. Drusilla will draw a bath for you.”

A bath . . . clear cool water, the thick silk of oils that smelled like herbs. The slither of limbs through water, and the sheen of dampness on muscles taut from incessant training.

“Come.” I could hear the alarm in Lucius’ voice, though it was my slave girl, Drusilla, who moved to support me, not my husband. “Your skin is quite red. Inside. Now.”

I alone knew the reason for my flush, but I certainly could not tell it to my husband. And actually, I was not the only one—there was one more who knew in what direction my thoughts lay.

I caught the eyes belonging to that one, and their dense black seemed to swallow the golden gleams given off by the sun. My heart fluttered in my chest, like a young girl with her first feelings of lust, but his expression revealed nothing that was not there when he thrust his battered wooden training sword through the air.

I knew that he felt it, too.

And what kind of
domina
was I, imagining myself seducing a slave?