He slammed the strigil down and angrily bathed his body in the cool water. The wetness enveloped and soothed him.

There was little point in railing against what could have been. He had to be sensible. The only way forward was to carry on with his plan. Should the gods favour him, he'd win the rudius; if not, he'd die trying. Either way, he'd regain the honour he needed.

Valens closed his eyes and allowed himself to dream about what could happen, if all went as planned. He built villas in the air, imagining Julia with two small boys clinging to her skirts as they lived together on his estate near Pompeü, far away from the frenzy of the arena. He dribbled water over his head and smiled at his fancy.

Then he pushed it away. All that could come after he had defeated Aquilia, after he had won the rudius and was a slave no longer.


Julia stood at the entrance to the dining room, waiting to have her feet washed by one of the servants. The last bang of the gong sounded, and even though she anticipated Valens would not be there, Julia had decided to wear her rose-coloured gap-sleeve gown. It could help explain the high colour in her cheeks, she decided as she slipped off her sandals and prepared to enter the room.

The dining room with its frescoed walls of blue and green, depicting the perfect garden, was the one room her father had refused to allow Sabina to modernise. Julia instinctively sought out her mother's favourite fresco, a tree with two doves in it. But before her eyes reached it, her gaze fell on Valens. He raised an eyebrow and his lips contracted to give a silent appreciative whistle. She felt the colour rise higher in her cheeks.

His hair curled slightly from the damp of the bath, and he had dressed carefully in a longer pure white tunic, one that only revealed his calves. If she had been meeting him for the first time, she would have sworn he was a patrician, rather than a gladiator. She found it impossible to do anything but stare at him. The memories of what they had just experienced flooding her body.

'Ah, Julia, at long last you arrive.' Sabina's sneer cut across Julia's confusion. 'It is so pleasing that you have taken time out of your busy schedule and finally decided to make an appearance. I see the pile of wool is sitting untouched in the atrium where you left it yesterday.'

'I had a slight headache and was resting,' Julia answered calmly. 'It wasn't until I heard the gong that I realised the time.'

The truth, but not the whole truth. Julia trained her gaze on the ornate floral patter of the middle couch.

'Sabina, Julia is but a little late,' her father said. "The other guests have just finished having their feet washed. And it is a pleasure to see her looking so pretty.'

'Try to keep better track of the time,' Sabina said, pursing her lips as if she had swallowed a glass of vinegar. 'You shall have to have the right couch with the gladiator next to you. I have already assigned your usual place to Livia.'

Julia vaguely listened while Sabina told the two other couples where they would be reclining. Her heart had leapt at the thought of being so near Valens so soon, but then had plummeted to the hem of her gown. She would have to be very careful not to betray her interest in him. This was the first time she had encountered him under the watchful gaze of her father. She had to remain calm.

At Sabina's signal, Julia went to the couch on the far right-hand side and started to arrange herself crosswise. Within a breath, Valens was reclining beside her. She ruthlessly suppressed a tingle as she felt his breath on her cheek.

'I thought you dined alone,' she said, forcing her lungs to breathe normally.

Valens reached over and put a cushion between her and his body. 'Are you disappointed that I am here?'

'Not disappointed, surprised. You gave no indication when…when…' Julia's voice trailed off.

'Your father came into the bathing suite just after you left and insisted I join him for dinner. It seemed churlish to refuse an invitation from the man who has provided me with all this hospitality.'

Julia's breath caught in her throat and she started to cough as she realised how fortunate she had been to escape from the bath suite undetected. Had she lingered a little while longer, her father might have burst in on them. Or he might have been waiting patiently outside when Valens had unbolted the door. She brought her napkin up to her face to hide the worst of the blush.

'I had not realised…'

'We understand each other,' Valens said smoothly. He took a napkin from the waiter, spread it in front of him and then washed his hands in the ewer of perfumed water that another waiter proffered. 'Your father is an honourable man and I can respect that honour. So it was with great pride I accepted his invitation to dine.'

Julia risked a glance at his profile, but she found it impossible to read. Did he mean that he felt he had somehow dishonoured her father's hospitality? Or was she trying to read too much into his words? She concentrated on arranging her napkin and ignoring the stabs of guilt and doubt. She risked a glance at her father, but he was speaking to one of the guests. Julia glanced down at her hands. The time was wrong for confessing.

'I see Senator Mettalius is not here,' Julia said, changing the subject.

'Your father said when he invited me that the senator had pleaded another engagement and there was a place spare,' Valens answered in an undertone. 'He wants to keep the guests to the number recommended by his soothsayer.'

"That could explain Sabina's bad mood.' Julia whispered back. 'A senator at the table would have given her superiority over Livia Gladiticus, the woman on my father's left and Sabina's great social rival. Sabina used to take great pride inviting Lucius, my former husband. Every second conversation was about how wonderfully he was doing in the Senate. Sabina's overriding ambition is to be greater than Livia. See how many times she has pointed out the new water clock and its ability to spit out pebbles on the hour.'

'And was your ex-husband a rising star? Another Pompey?'

'No, but Sabina ignored that. She only saw the broad purple stripe of his senatorial toga and smelt its stench from the Tynan shellfish dye.'

'There is more to a man's character than the stripe of his toga and the odour of his clothes,' Valens said decisively.

'I know…' Julia sighed '…but try telling Sabina or my father that.'

As the first course of small pastries stuffed with dates and meat was passed around, she tried to concentrate on the ebb and flow of the conversation and ignore the movement of Valens's body, mere inches from her own. There had to be a way of making her father see beyond Valens's status to the good and honourable man she had begun to discover.

'What are dear Julia's prospects for remarriage?' Livia's voice boomed out as the servants wiped the marble table in preparation for the next course. 'I have been waiting for weeks for this fabulous announcement you have been promising, Sabina.'

'Go on, Sabina, you may tell our friends,' Julius Antonius said in a measured voice as he finished washing his hands in the perfumed water. 'You may tell our friends what we have decided to do…about Julia's marriage.'

Julia's hand trembled as she lifted her cup of honey-sweetened wine. She found it difficult to credit that her father would contract a marriage without consulting her. He had promised. All her happiness at this afternoon seemed to taste like ashes in her mouth. She wanted to weep. It took all of her willpower not to throw the napkin down and storm out of the room. She felt the gentle pressure of Valens's hand on her elbow, steadying her. It was difficult to believe this was happening to her. Her father had promised to wait.

'You know what men are like, Livia.' Sabina paused and theatrically rolled her eyes to the ceiling. 'It all depends on the augur and the omens apparently. Julius Antonius wants to consult the very best as we have no desire to have a repeat of the last time. You all know what a disaster for the family that was.'

Sabina's eyes narrowed as she stared directly at Julia. She was left in no doubt whom Sabina blamed for the breakdown of the marriage.

'When are you consulting the augur?'

Julia's breath caught in her throat. She stared at the centrepiece of fruit.

'Tomorrow morning at three hours,' Sabina replied, patting her hair and pointedly turning away from Julia. 'Julius Antonius arranged it all without asking me. This augur, Apius, at the Temple of Venus, comes highly recommended by no less than Caesar himself.'

Julia felt her winecup begin to slip out of her grasp. The sound of Sabina's words echoed in her brain—tomorrow.

Valens eased her fingers away from the cup and placed it on the table. She gave him a grateful glance and he inclined his head very slightly. He had spoken of protecting her, but he could not protect her from this fate. Did he even want to? And what happened when she was married? She knew her sense of duty would never let her betray her husband.

The rest of the meal and the evening's entertainment passed in a blur. Each time she risked a glance at Valens, his face seemed to grow more remote and stone-like until it looked like it was chiselled out of granite. The warmth in his eyes seemed to have disappeared entirely by the third course, leaving only chips of black glass.

Julia picked at her cakes soaked in sweet wine, unable to concentrate as her thoughts kept circling back to one fact. Tomorrow her fate would be decided and she faced a future without Valens. She had to confront the stark truth. Their encounter had only been a brief interlude in her life.


Chapter Ten


Valens slammed the door to his bedroom shut with a satisfyingly loud bang. The dinner had been a mistake. He should have ignored the blandishments of Julius Antonius and had supper in his room as he had done every day since he had arrived in this household. But the desire to see Julia again had been too strong.

Reclining on the couch, he had been reminded that a Roman dinner party was very different from the parties he attended as a gladiator. He also remembered how his mother had lived for dinner parties, how she enjoyed supervising the cooks and fussing over the food. She had enjoyed the speeches after the food, the entertainment.

Even after five years, he heard echoes of her laughter in some of the stories. One or two jokes were ones he knew she would have smiled at. He also knew how she wilted whenever his father forbade the parties. She had been a pale imitation of herself on their estates in northern Italy, only coming to life when they returned to Rome.

From her flushed cheeks, and bright eyes, Valens knew Julia had enjoyed the dinner. What would it mean to her if such things were forbidden? If former friends walked on the other side of the road rather than greet her, as he knew must happen if their liaison became public currency?

The hardest part of the whole evening was listening to Julius Antonius calmly announce that his daughter's future was to be decided in the morning. In that bald statement, Valens knew he did not want to see her become a bride to another man. It had taken all of his willpower to refrain from asking for more time. All he wanted was the chance to compete for her, but that could not happen until he had won the radius.

Or could it? There was a way he had not tried. He had refused to try.

Valens strode over to his iron-bound trunk and searched through his belongings for the cloak he wore to the opening ceremony. His fingers closed around the brooch pinned to the right-hand shoulder, the floodgates of his memory opening.

He should act now. Confront his father. Attempt to regain his birthright that way, an insistent voice whispered in his brain. It would be so easy. He stood to gain much. Once his father saw him in the flesh, he'd throw his arms wide and welcome him back, ignoring the past. Valens allowed the brooch to slip from his grip as he remembered his father's sneering remarks about gladiators. If he had been unwilling to ransom his son from a pirate's hold, why would he be willing to help now when his son had risen to the top of his disreputable profession?

To acknowledge him as his son, his father would have to admit that his own flesh and blood, a member of one of Rome's oldest families, was an infamis. The one consistent refrain of his childhood was that members of his family died before they disgraced the family name.