Blood of a Gladiator - Ashley Gardner Page 0,45

and found the sign of twining snakes, indicating Nonus Marcianus, physician.

Marcianus had turned his back on a soft life to treat gladiators, which he said was much more interesting, and set up a small office on the Aventine, where most of his patients couldn’t give him coin for his help. Aemil paid him, but not as much as Marcianus would have made treating the ailments and digestive complaints of people in his own class.

I had no way of knowing whether Marcianus was home or at Aemil’s ludus but the shop was open so I walked inside, ducking under an awning.

Marcia, carrying a basin of water, dropped it when she saw me, and the basin shattered, sending a wave of water over my boots.

“Look what you made me do.” Marcia, who’d always been timid, planted fists on hips and glared up at me. “You’re a lout, Leonidas.”

“Never mind.” Nonus emerged from a cubbyhole in the back, his expression welcoming. “I have another basin … somewhere.”

“I know where it is.” Marcia shot me a scowl and started up a narrow staircase in the corner.

“She’s been a great help to me,” Marcianus said. I wasn’t certain if he meant the words as an apology or a defense of her.

“I came to see Marcia, in fact,” I said.

Marcianus’s good humor faded. “Why? She’s my assistant now, not a bed slave.”

“Not for that.” Not since I’d woken the day of Floriana’s illness had I taken much interest in sating my needs. Even in my dreams I’d not found use for it. “To ask her about Floriana.”

“Oh.” Marcianus contemplated me with less belligerence. “Why?”

“So I won’t be accused of her death.”

“I see.” Marcianus rubbed his thin hair. “But you fetched me when Floriana was ill.”

“I could have timed it so you would have arrived too late. I was unlucky that I calculated wrong.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Cassia thought of that, did she?”

Regulus had said it, but I didn’t want to talk about Regulus. I offered him a little shrug.

“Cassia has much intelligence, especially for one so young,” Marcianus said. “Treat her gently, Leonidas.”

I had no reason not to, but I was too unnerved to argue. “If others believe this, or try to prove I killed Floriana before I left for Ostia …” I firmed my mouth. “I’m not going back to the games.”

Marcianus gave me a conceding nod. “I understand. You are a good fighter, my friend, but I know your heart wasn’t in it.”

Aemil had expected me to kill men I’d helped train, fighters I’d grown to like and respect. Occasionally I’d faced a hated rival, but mostly my opponents were men I’d drunk with in companionship only days before.

I was unable to put such thoughts into words. “I won’t go back.”

Marcianus called up the stairs. “Marcia!”

She clattered back down after a moment, clean basin in hand. I’d never taken Marcia to bed, as my tastes did not run to women who were barely more than girls. The stolla she wore today covered her more than the gauzy piece hanging from one shoulder she’d donned when she’d worked at the lupinarius. This stolla was thick linen and covered her from neck to ankles.

She’d caught her thick brown hair in a tail at the back of her neck, exposing a fine-boned, pretty face, devoid of cosmetics. Marcia now looked like the daughter of a lower-class but respectable household instead of the youngest offering in a brothel.

“Leonidas wishes to speak to you,” Marcianus said.

Marcia set the basin on a table, her earlier hostility gone. She’d taken her change of circumstance easily, I could see, and regarded me serenely.

“Did anyone come to Floriana the day she was killed?” I asked her. “Why did she go out? Did you go with her?”

Marcia considered the questions without fear, though I sensed Marcianus hovering, ready to intercede if I upset her.

“No one came, not that day,” Marcia said. “Floriana rose as usual. She felt better after recovering from the poison but she was in a foul temper. I think someone visited her the night before. I was with customers, so I didn’t see who, but I heard her arguing. She can be hard on the regulars, especially if they don’t pay, but this was different from her egging someone to give what they owed. She was yelling, and she sounded furious.”

“Or afraid?” Marcianus suggested. “Sometimes when people are scared, they’re more aggressive.”

Marcia pursed her lips. “Possibly. Floriana was going on about something she was supposed to do, but didn’t