Seduced by the Gladiator(43)

“Let me take care of you.” As a reflex, I very nearly said that I did not need to be taken care of. Even though I found the idea pleasant, it was still difficult to remain silent, and even more so to submit to his ministrations.

It was hard to change the habits that had been ingrained within me. I supposed, however, that I was no longer the woman who bristled with self-sufficiency.

“Close your eyes.” Christus brought the cloth to my forehead, patting away the clamminess that had gathered there. He passed the cloth down each cheek, then across my neck, before pausing to rewet the cloth.

It felt better than I ever could have imagined to be cleaned. Though I knew that it was silly, being bathed at the hand of someone whom I cared about seemed to wash away the sick taint that Gaius had forced upon me.

Christus continued to stroke the cloth over me. His touch was soothing, yet brisk and efficient. I knew that he was keeping it so because he did not wish to touch me intimately when I felt so vulnerable.

I admired him all the more for it, even as I shivered, remembering the lechery on Gaius’ face.

“Tell me something about yourself.” I needed distraction. “Something of your life, your life before you became a gladiator.”

Christus’ face darkened, the shadows in the room emphasizing the furrows in his brow. He seemed to be struggling with something to say, and I very nearly told him to forget that I had spoken.

“I was favored by the gods, once.” When he finally spoke, his voice was raspy, as if these words had been so long inside of him that they had rusted.

I found that I very much wanted to know something of Christus’ life before I had known him, and so I settled back to listen, my eyes closed.

“A very long time ago, it was common for Roman plebeians to own small pieces of land, to farm it themselves. But as time passed, many could not afford to support themselves. Most farms now are a part of large estates, ones that are owned by wealthy patricians. These nobles have slaves to work the land for them.” He paused, drew in a deep breath. “Somehow—I never quite understood it—my family had managed to hang on to their land, to live off it. I inherited it when I became a man and took a wife.”

A wife? I shifted restlessly, trying to bite back my scowl. I knew in my heart that Christus was not the type of man to be with me when he had a wife waiting outside the walls of the ludus, so I assumed that something had happened to her. Even still, I found that I was jealous of any woman who had once held a place in his heart.

“For two years, my life was perfect. We were not rich, but we made enough to live. And while more and more Romans were sold into slavery because they could not afford to live, we were free.”

“It sounds perfect.” Freedom—it was not a concept that I had thought of for a long time. I myself had not been free since my twelfth year, when my father had sold me, the eldest of my five siblings, because he could no longer afford to feed us all. I had been a kitchen slave for years, had run away and been caught by Roman soldiers, who had sold me to the slave trader in return for opium and whores, before eventually being sold to my dominus.

No, freedom was not a concept that I was overly familiar with. It felt very much as if I had never been.

Christus swallowed, the sound loud in the still room.

“It was absolutely perfect. My wife was called Aelia, and she was beautiful. I had loved her since I was a boy, and when our son was born, I named him after her. Aelius.” Christus spoke as if his mind had completely wandered into his past.

My own was centered firmly in the here and now, struggling with the painful constriction of my heart. Christus had been married, had loved his wife. He had had a son.

What had happened to them? How much love did he still hold in his heart?

I did not know what to say, and so I said nothing, instead worrying my lip with my teeth until the skin was raw.

“One patrician, Ovidius was his name, wanted to grow wheat as well as grapes and olives, to expand his exporting empire. He very much wanted our little patch of land, for things grew well there. I would not sell, no matter the price that he offered, for owning that land meant a steady life.”

His fingers had slowed, fallen from my body as he spoke. The cloth had dropped to the floor, and he knelt with his hands in his lap.

“Finally I thought that he understood. He stopped coming to my home, stopped dogging my steps, stopped offering a new threat every day.” Christus’ voice softened, and I heard the guilt that laced his tone. “I was certain that he had moved on. But just as I thought that our lives had returned to normal, I came home from the market one day to find that my wife and son had been slain. I could not prove it, but I knew that it had been the work of Ovidius.” Hearing the pain in his voice, I sat up on the bed, reached out to caress his cheek. He lifted both hands to my own, holding on tightly.