Blood of a Gladiator - Ashley Gardner Page 0,37

when Nero finished. He smiled at her, a large, genuine smile, relieved he’d found someone who appreciated his talent.

“Now then, my friends.” Nero at last set aside the lyre and rubbed his hands, as though they ached from the playing. “You must be agog to know why I’ve summoned you. It is simple. You guarded a man—Decimus Laelius Priscus—on his way to and from Ostia. Helped rescue his son from kidnappers.”

I was not surprised the story had reached the Palatine. Priscus had reported the crime, and the sensational tale must be the main topic at suppers all over Rome by now.

Cassia and I nodded in silence, neither of us foolish enough to speak without permission.

“I would like you to continue protecting him,” Nero said. “I fear for his life. Such an old man, who has made many enemies in his time.”

Priscus seemed robust for his age. However Nero was a few years younger than I, and to him, Priscus must seem ancient.

Cassia had told me that Priscus had been a friend to Claudius. Not all Claudius’s followers had supported Nero—Nero had been the man’s adopted son, displacing and later killing Claudius’s legitimate heir, Britanicus.

Now Nero sounded sympathetic to Priscus, worried about him, which was strange. I knew, though, that personal considerations sometimes outweighed political ones … sometimes.

“Be diligent,” Nero went on. “Nothing must happen to Priscus, nothing at all. I brought you here to emphasize that point. Naturally, I could have simply sent you word.”

I’d wondered about that. Nero must want more from us than an audience for his music and a warning he could have given us via messenger.

Nero ran an assessing gaze over me. “I must congratulate you, Leonidas. Freedom from the games is quite an achievement. However, I trust you will demonstrate your talent for me from time to time, when I request it.”

I bowed my head and murmured, “Of course, sir.”

“After you watch over Priscus for me. See that he remains home in the coming days.”

I glanced up in concern. “Is there a threat? Even now that his son is safe?”

Nero gave me a look intended to be wise, but he didn’t have the face for it. “Rome is always dangerous. Well I know this.” He shuddered delicately. “Let us not speak of it and have more music. Leonidas, please go away. I would like Cassia to remain. She has an ear.”

My blood chilled. Cassia had no power, and Nero could do with her what he pleased. He might simply play his lyre for her for several hours, but he also might decide to sate a few appetites on her, and she could do nothing to stop him. His appetites were rumored to be exotic.

I cleared my throat. “I have need of her. Sir.”

Nero’s carefully plucked brows rose. “I can’t think why. Off you go, gladiator. I will send her home when I am finished.”

I flashed a glance at Cassia, which she returned without expression. I had to leave her—I had no choice. It burned me inside to go through the door, and I kept my steps slow.

I paused in the lavish room outside the peristyle while the guards closed the doors behind me, shutting Cassia in with the princeps of all Rome. I waited until I heard the plucked strings of the lyre and Nero’s voice rise in song before I made myself walk away.

I refused to go home. A servant led me firmly out of the domus, but I planted myself in the outer courtyard, saying I’d wait for Cassia.

One of the Praetorian Guards broke from wall duty and advanced on me. “Leonidas the Spartan,” he announced.

“I am.”

The man pulled off his helmet and grinned at me, becoming a human being. “I’ve seen you win many a game. Won plenty of coin on you, I have to say.”

“Good.”

My curtness did not put him off. “I am Severus Tullius. You can count me as a friend on the Palatine.”

I wondered what he meant, but I did not ask or argue. I gave him a cordial nod, but I was too distracted for conversation.

“I will make certain your slave is returned to you,” he said good-naturedly.

“I’ll wait.” I leaned against a block wall and folded my arms. The blocks were stone, fitted together precisely. The youth I’d once been knew exactly how it had been done.

Tullius could easily drive me off, but he widened his grin. “A good slave is hard to come by. One doesn’t like to lose them.”

“No.”

Tullius seemed to enjoy my laconic answers.