Before I could ask Regulus where in Hades he’d hidden himself, Aemil rushed across the field at him, fury in his eyes and a wooden sword in his hand. I recognized the sword. We’d named it Nemesis.
“Do you think this is a bathhouse you can wander in and out of at your pleasure?” Aemil roared as he reached Regulus. “Where were you? Don’t lie to me!”
Septimius slammed the gate, and I heard the bolt slide across it, locking us in. The gladiators ceased training, turning to watch with interest.
Regulus glanced warily at the wooden sword then pretended to ignore it. “I was with a lady. Where’d you think? I was paid well, don’t worry.”
“I’ve explained time and again I’m not running a brothel,” Aemil shouted. “You return at curfew or you face the consequence.” The sword rose.
Aemil in his day had been the most celebrated gladiator in Rome. I’d taken over the title, but I knew I could never have bested Aemil. He’d never lost a bout, not even when he’d been a green tiro.
“I’m here now,” Regulus growled. “And tired. Can’t you beat me later?”
He spoke with bravado, but I heard the uneasiness in his voice.
“I will beat you any time I choose.” Aemil advanced on him. “You belong tome, not any trollop in the Subura. Get to your cell.”
“Not a trollop. Rich woman.” Regulus backed away toward the line of arches that fronted the cells.
“I don’t care if she was a handmaiden of Venus. You go out only with my permission, and you didn’t have it. Rufus and Ajax havedied. You want to be the next stack of gladiator parts?”
Regulus started. “Rufus is dead?”
“Killed and chopped up. We thought you were too—Leonidas has been scouring the streets for you.”
Regulus moved his gaze to me, and his derision returned. “Leonidas couldn’t find his own ass.”
“Get inside.” Aemil smacked the sword across Regulus’s abdomen before Regulus could block it.
Regulus grunted with the hit, then he wisely turned and jogged toward his cell. Aemil strode after him, and I followed, keeping Cassia tightly next to me. The other gladiators watched us go with the smugness of men who hadn’t earned Aemil’s wrath that day.
Aemil was locking the door to Regulus’s cell when we reached it. Regulus leaned against the far wall, arms folded.
“I’m not a criminal,” he snarled.
“You’re a gladiator.” Aemil turned the iron key in the lock with a decidedclank. The cells were bolted from the outside, the gladiators imprisoned inside. “You’re in my ludus for one reason—I paid for you.”
Regulus rumbled his displeasure, but he remained on the far side of the cell as Aemil withdrew his key and strode away. Regulus spit through the grating, but I noticed he made sure he had no chance of the spittle hitting Aemil.
Once Aemil had exited to the training ground, his shouts at the gladiators to get back to work floating to us, I moved to Regulus’s door.
“Tellmewhere you were,” I said. “It might be important.”
Regulus eyed me with irritation. “None of your business.” He bent down to his bunk and extracted a thin piece of metal from under the pallet. He moved to the door, thrust his hand through the slats, and started working the lock with the pick.
I rested one hand on the iron bars. “Ajax and Rufus were murdered after they’d been treated to a lavish meal. Possibly by a rich woman. So who was she?”
“Go eat your own eyeballs, Leonidas.”
I abruptly snatched the lock pick from his hand and threw it down the corridor. The thin iron skittered across the stones.
“Prick.” Regulus glared at me and rattled the door. “Open it.”
“Aemil can still put me on the ground. No.”
“He doesn’t ownyou, and you have no reason to be loyal to him. Or is your freedman’s cap too tight and you want to run back home to his protection?”
I’d never received the cap a slave turned freedman was given by his former master, nor had I enjoyed a celebratory feast. I was handed therudis, then ignored, which was fine with me.
