Seduced by the Gladiator(61)

It seemed that, for the moment at least, Gaius and Hilaria had forgotten that we existed.

“Christus!” I hissed out the thought that hit me like a blow in the arena. “We can escape. Let us run! We will run away and be together!”

Temptation washed over his face, and then he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back, behind the curtain.

“Lilia, think this through.” I did not want to have my wild hope tamped down, and I refused to meet his eyes. Still he spoke, the voice of reason in my fit of madness.

“Where will we go? What will we do? My coin is back at the ludus, as is yours. We are both well known throughout the city. As soon as Gaius realizes that we have gone—and he will come looking for you the moment his lust has been slaked, you know this—we will be hunted.”

He did not say the rest, but I knew it regardless. If we were caught trying to flee the bonds of slavery, we would be killed.

If we stayed, if we participated in the games the next day, at least one of us would have hope of survival.

“You cannot escape, at any rate.” Christus shoved me behind him, and I pushed back as the sweet, young female voice sounded from the other side of the curtain. Christus ripped the cloth half off of its hanging, murder in his eyes.

My muscles relaxed somewhat when I saw that it was but another slave on the other side, sitting with legs crossed on a cushion. The young girl was heavily pregnant, and she massaged the curve of her belly with her hands. She was taking a moment to rest her swollen flesh, nothing sinister.

The girl had skin the color of honey, and she seemed so tired that she was not frightened by the sight of two gladiators, one of whom stood poised to rip her head off.

“Why these words?” Christus was still tense, still on guard. The slave laughed breathlessly and stood as best she could, brushing dust from her palms and onto the lap of her toga.

“The home of Gaius is a fortress. None enter without his permission, nor do any exit.” Waddling toward the back wall, still shielded by the curtain, she gestured at us to follow her. “Come.”

Wanting to be rid of the sounds of Gaius’ lust, and also fearing what he would do as soon as his senses returned to him and he came looking for me, I moved to follow the slave.

Christus grabbed at my upper arm, halting my progress.

“You are the slave of Gaius. You could be taking us to our deaths.” Though I knew that Christus spoke the truth, I felt the urge to shout at him, to move him past his protectiveness of me. It was more than likely that we would die the next day. If death came for us that night, we would not have been shorted very much.

“I could be.” The pregnant young girl stared up at us solemnly, her hands folded neatly on her belly, then again beckoned. “But Gaius will likely see to that himself. Now come. I want to give you a gift.”

“Christus.” When I was near Gaius, my skin prickled all over, and my belly rolled. I felt neither of these things with this slave. “Let us go.”

Settling his face into a scowl, he did as I asked. The three of us worked our way across the back of the room as quickly and unobtrusively as we could. Finally we slipped out the ornately arched entryway through which Gaius and Hilaria had arrived hours earlier, coming from a long, empty hallway that looked as if it had been carved from marble.

“Come.” The slave moved as briskly as she could in her condition, and we followed. We were led through a small room that looked as if it had been set up for prayer of some sort, and then through another doorway that, when opened, showed a yawning expanse of darkness and rock.

“What is this?” I smelled sulphur, and felt the blast of moist heat that emanated from the depths. Instead of fright, however, I was intrigued, drawn to whatever was down there.

“Part of this house is very old. This room was used to worship the gods by the ancients, and it was built on this spot for a reason. Down this passage is a warm bath, a natural one, a gift from the gods themselves.”

Puzzled, Christus and I looked at each other, then at the slave, who bit her lip and looked somewhat abashed.

“It is a place where you can be alone together, for an hour or so.” She looked toward the door that led to the room. “You cannot escape the grounds; there is no way out but back up these stairs.”

“Why?” My heart broke a little when I heard the anger, the suspicion in Christus’ voice replaced, at long last, with weariness. “Why would you show us this kindness?”

The slave shrugged again, shuffling her feet back and forth on the stone floor. I was struck by her youth. Though it was not uncommon for a woman to have children early, this girl was barely more than a child herself.