Aemil’sludus lay in the Transtiberim, across the river to the west. I merged with the crowds on the Pons Agrippae and angled southward once I reached the other side of the Tiber.
The ludus was a large structure of barracks that encircled a rectangular training area. There was space within this makeshift arena for several pairs of gladiators to practice fighting while the novices struck posts with wooden swords, learning to jab and cut.
The wood and stone building had a gate of stout planks, guarded by hired toughs to keep the curious outside. They also guarded against those who might creep in to nobble a favorite by slipping them a draught that would make them sleepy or weak, or even kill them entirely.
The gate guards were young, burly, and fit, and while they might lean idly against the gate as though bored, they were diligent and came alert in a heartbeat.
The man on duty this afternoon was called Septimius, and he hailed me with enthusiasm. “Welcome home, Leonidas. Come to fulfill Aemil’s dreams?”
He asked me this every time I arrived, and I’d ceased bothering to answer. “I’m here to see you, actually.”
“I am flattered.” Septimius was a thick-bodied brute of a man, with wiry brown hair that curled down his neck, dark eyes, and ham fists. He’d quietly let me slip back into the ludus long after my curfew many a time. “Missed me, did you?”
“I have, yes,” I said without feigning. Septimius was good-natured and friendly without being oily, though I’d watched him beat a man to a pulp when the man tried repeatedly to climb the wall to seek out his favorite gladiator. “I want to ask you about Ajax, Herakles, and Rufus. You’d have been the last to see them go.”
“Ah.” Septimius leaned against the gatepost and picked at a tooth with his thumbnail. “Aemil has you chasing them, does he? I don’t know where they are.”
“You’d have let them out. Or maybe Plinius did.”
“Naw, it was me.” Septimius gazed down the street that teemed with slaves running errands for masters, men heading for the nearest popina for wine and games, and plebeian women shopping for wares. On the far corner, a thin, harried teacher tried to keep the attention of six children gathered around him who traced letters carved into boards with sticks.
“When did they go?” Aemil had told me, but I wanted to hear Septimius’s version.
“Five—no, four days ago. Last day of Januarius, at various times. I remember because Plinius was ill, and I took his shift. They all had passes, and I let them out.”
“But they never came back.”
“They didn’t.” Septimius removed his thumb from his teeth and spat on the street. “If you ask me, Aemil is worried for nothing. They’re most likely spending their prize money from the Saturnalian games. Rufus has been trying to persuade his wife into a better apartment, so he’s probably moving her into a lower floor of their insula. I’d guess that Ajax and Herakles are sleeping off nights of debauchery. Ajax will poke anything that moves. Maybe he got punched for it.”
I had to agree with Septimius. The most likely explanation was that each of the men had been caught up in ordinary circumstances—renting a new apartment or recovering from the aftermath of drink and whoring.
“Did any of them tell you where they planned to go? Besides Rufus, of course.”
“Noof courseabout that.” Septimius grinned. “Rufus isn’t exactly the model of fidelity. But as it happens, he did say he was going home to Chryseis—that’s his wife. Ajax headed for the Subura. Herakles wouldn’t tell me, but I think he has a highborn lover with a villa on the river.”
The gate suddenly was wrenched inward by a massive hand that belonged to a huge gladiator with close-cropped dark hair and hard brown eyes. His name was Regulus, and at one time I’d called him friend. He was nowprimus palusof Aemil’s gladiators, a position he’d inherited from me.
“Are you talking about those idiots who’ve disappeared?” he demanded.
Septimius took a step back. Regulus made him nervous, as Regulus would beat on anyone when in a pique. Gate guards were fair game to him, and as long as Regulus left them fit for duty, Aemil wouldn’t stop him.
“Do you know where they are?” I asked Regulus.
Not long ago, Regulus and I had been inseparable, drinking together, visiting lupinari together, sparring for the joy of it. That had ended the day he’d begged me to kill him, and I’d refused.
“I know where they’re likely to be,” Regulus said in his usual snarl. “Dead, aren’t they? Dead and gone to the Elysium Fields, like the selfish bastards they are.”
Chapter 2
Regulus scowled at me as I regarded him in surprise. Even Septimius shuffled back a step.
“Why do you believe they are dead?” I asked in a calm tone.
Regulus hesitated, as though he’d expected his belligerence to be accepted without question. Months ago, I might have laughed at him, or retorted with a,Why? Did you kill them?accompanied by taking him for a drink.
“Herakles wants to die in glory,” Regulus said. “He’d do something stupid like jump from the top of the Capitoline Hill and pretend he’s flying. Ajax fights anyone he sees. Rufus will be coshed by his wife when she finds out about his mistresses.”
“I’ll wager she knows about them already,” Septimius offered good-naturedly. “And Ajax usually wins his fights.”
