I quickly released him. “No,” I said truthfully. All I’d done was make certain the game wasn’t rigged. “The throw was a fair one. Fortuna favored you.”
“Ah.” Now both Nero’s hands fell to my shoulders. “How much wine will all the little coins I acquired buy?”
I hadn’t counted his winnings, but probably there was a denarius or two worth of ases in his bag. “Four or five flasks, very like,” I answered.
Nero balance himself on me while he fumbled for his pouch. “Take it and buy drinks for the whole popina. In return for a fine evening.”
He patted my arm as though we were friends and stumbled almost as much as Blasius had when he let me go. I caught him before he could fall, but Nero pushed me off with surprising strength and staggered into the dark street, heading down the hill.
At least five other patrons who’d watched the game had slipped out of the popina as Nero had scraped the money into his bag. They’d lie in wait for him, to relieve him of the coins or even his clothes, which though plain, were finer than most men in this neighborhood wore. Also, I’d betrayed that he had a costly set of tesserae with him. He wouldn’t make it to the next crossroads.
I started after him, but a soft jingle next to me brought me to a halt. An armed praetorian guard stepped from the deep doorway of a shop after Nero passed it.
“Stay,” the man told me. “We’ll look after him.”
I recognized him as a guard who’d once handed me a sword in Nero’s domus—Nero had ordered me to battle a man in his presence. The guard saw that I remembered him, gave me a curt nod, and strode away after his master, his footfalls quiet.
Praetorians had the tricky job of protecting the princeps, even from himself, and also of protecting the world from him. It had been this elite guard who’d assassinated Gaius and installed Claudius, Nero’s adoptive father, in his place.
More guards emerged from doorways up and down the street. Their alert bodies and measured footfalls showed they were not the drunkards or thieves from the popina, but trained fighting men chosen from the best in the legions.
I was left in the dark with a heavy pouch of copper coins and the awareness that plenty of predators would wish to relieve me of it. The fact that I was a large gladiator who’d lost only two bouts in my life would not deter them.
I swung back into the popina, announced in a loud voice that the winner had generously donated the funds back to them, and bade the landlord bring out as much wine as the coins would pay for.
Cheers greeted my announcement, and the landlord, a sour type, actually smiled.
When I stepped once more into the street, finished with the place for the night, four vigiles surged out of the darkness to surround me.
“I saw you rob your rich friend, Leonidas,” one said. “Very clever. Off to the lockup with you.”
Chapter 2
Cold washed through me as the four men hemmed me in. None touched me, but they’d clamp down as one if I tried to fight. These vigiles knew me, the great Leonidas, once a champion of the games, now scratching out a living as a freedman. Due to their number tonight, they did not fear me as much as they should.
I could likely best even the four together in a fight. But if I did that, I might be hunted through the city and killed on sight. The gods only knew what would happen to Cassia then.
“Tell Cassia I’ve been arrested,” I snapped at the landlord who’d stepped outside to see what all the fuss was about.
The portly landlord regarded me, open-mouthed, and I could only hope he’d obey. I turned and led the way, the vigiles nearly running to keep up with me, to the house on the corner where I’d stay to await the cohorts in the morning.
The cramped cell the vigile captain locked me into stank of urine a past guest had painted the floor with. I lay on a stone slab, breathing shallowly, my body wanting to fall into sleep and at the same time resisting it.
I’d once been entombed in the Tullianum, the main prison at the base of the Capitoline Hill. I’d waited while magistrates debated my fate before I’d been sentenced to the games. I’d lain in the dark for days, never knowing what hour it was, wondering whether I’d see the sky again.
After Aemil had purchased me, he’d locked me into a dark cell at his ludus, imprisoning me there for days until he’d yanked me out to begin my training. Six months had passed before Aemil’s trust rose enough for me to gain a cell with a grill instead of a solid door.
The room I found myself in tonight didn’t contain the fear and hopelessness of the Tullianum, but still my breath was short, and I was cold, so cold. My dislike of closed-in spaces intensified every time I was shut into a dark room, my fate uncertain.
As the hours trickled past, fears for myself were overcome by my concern for Cassia.
Cassia had been bought from a market by our benefactor, for what purpose we still didn’t know. She’d been sent to look after me, but neither of us could guess why a scribe with much book-learning had been chosen to keep house for a former gladiator.
If I were condemned, she would be either executed as my accomplice or sold again, perhaps this time to a man who wouldn’t be impressed by her skills as a scribe. I hoped the popina’s landlord would warn her, and that she’d be sensible and leave Rome immediately.
Nero liked Cassia—perhaps she could present herself at the palace for his protection. This was only a small comfort, because Nero, as he’d proclaimed when he won the game, loved a beautiful woman. He could use her any way he wished.
None of these thoughts eased my worry. When I tried to bolt from the bed to pace, I scraped my head on the very low ceiling and thumped back down again. I could only lie flat on the stone bunk, waiting through the musty night for my fate and Cassia’s to be sealed.
