Seduced by the Gladiator(85)

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.