Blood of a Gladiator - Ashley Gardner Page 0,66

a street that skirted the long side of the Circus and emerged near the river in the shadow of the Palatine Hill. From there we took the path that followed the Tiber past the place Floriana had been struck down, and northward through the Campus Flaminius.

It was a lengthy walk, and Cassia flagged by the time we reached the baths. A wind had sprung up, cold with winter, smoke and steam from the huge bath complex thick in the air.

Agrippa, the close friend of Augustus, had set up these massive public baths, which I’d used many times in my life. The ludus lay a short distance across the river and Aemil had paid the small fee, so I often retreated here after a tiring day of training.

We strolled in past a tall marble statue of a man set high on a pedestal. Cassia gazed at the statue in amazement and then, when she could tear her attention from it, peered eagerly through the rotunda to the library full of scrolls.

“I’ve heard of this place.” Her whisper echoed in the cavernous hall. “I’ve always wanted to come. The statue at the entrance is by Lysippus. A true Lysippus, not a copy.”

I didn’t know who Lysippus was, but Cassia’s awe told me he was a famed artist.

The vaulted halls were filled with people talking, arguing, debating, laughing. Men and women diverged into the changing rooms, but they would merge again in the baths. Floors of marble and terra cotta led to bathing rooms and the gymnasium. We took the route to the gardens.

“I understand why Lucia made this her retreat,” Cassia said in admiration as we emerged into the green space. The garden held colonnaded walks, with benches in niches, trees and greenery, and statues peeking out here and there. “Marcus Agrippa had great vision, was very keen on civic works.”

I didn’t know much about the man beyond the buildings he’d left. Gallus, the architectus, would have loved to work on a project like these baths or this garden—he’d said wistfully that he wanted to build something all admired. Perhaps one day he would.

Cassia and I walked the garden’s paths, which were quiet. With the winter cold, most people had retreated indoors to the warm baths.

Nowhere did I see Lucia skulking, or even the cloaked figure of a woman. If Lucia had sought sanctuary in these gardens, she wasn’t here now.

“She might have taken rooms in the area,” Cassia suggested. “To be near a place she liked.”

Finding out would take a massive search, though admittedly less so than looking for her in the heart of the city. The Campus Martius, where the baths lay, was on the outskirts of Rome. It held training grounds for the legions and was not as heavily populated.

We left the quiet oasis of the gardens and returned to the streets. Not many insulae lined the area, as for a long time, none had been built on the Campus Martius. But after more prominent men had started erecting buildings, such as the Theatre of Pompey, Agrippa’s baths, and the nearby Pantheon, shops had appeared, and over them, rooms for the shop owners, which were sometimes rented out to other tenants.

Cassia fearlessly approached shopkeepers who were closing up for the afternoon, and asked about their lodgers. She knocked on doors if they were already shut. Lucia would recognize me too quickly, so I skulked a block away, pretending interest in a tavern, while Cassia questioned the inhabitants around the Saepta Julia, where I’d fought in gladiatorial combat, and the Vicus Pallacinae.

I realized as I watched Cassia follow one worker ruthlessly until he turned in exasperation to answer her, that slaves would more readily speak to other slaves. I was wise to let her get on with it. In the world of slaves, Cassia, as a learned scribe, even if a woman, outranked many. She had a fine sense of her own place, and used it.

Cassia returned to me, ordered stew and wine from the popina, and handed me the jars to carry home.

“No one has seen her,” she said, deflating. “I’d hoped this would be easier. Lucia is a distinctive woman.”

“She might have dyed her hair a different color,” I suggested. “If you were asking about a red-haired woman that might be the only thing they would remember.”

“I described her in more detail than that.” Cassia frowned as we navigated the increasing foot traffic toward the Quirinal. The Vicus Laci Fundani led us east and north, away from the