Page 20 of Brother at Arms

“I told Junius, his guard. Junius promised to pass on the message.”

I had no doubt Cassia had instructed Junius on exactly what to say.

The Forum was empty, the day turning warm. I wanted a bath, having missed it yesterday to take Lucius to Marcella’s farm. First, though, I wished Cassia to be safely indoors.

Once we reached the apartment, I could not leave again right away, because Cassia insisted I repeat every word of my conversation with Mena. That took some time, as she asked questions to prompt my memory and bade me repeat things as she wrote it all down.

At last, I took up my strigil and departed for the baths further up the Quirinal.

The bath house’s exercise yard was crowded at this hour, but I found a corner in which to work my body into a sweat and a man to scrape down my skin. I went straight to the frigidarium after that, dove into the pool, and stayed there.

Most men spent their time in the tepidarium or caldarium, which was why I preferred the cold-water pool. Not only did the cool water refresh my warm body and tingle on my scraped skin, but it was quiet.

There was no sound in the large room but the splash of water as it gushed from the spout in the wall and the hollow lapping against the pool’s tiles. I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes.

I jerked awake when two men hauled me straight out of the pool, water crashing from my body. They spun me around to face two more burly men, one of whom glared at me from under heavy black brows.

“Who are you?” he demanded in thickly accented street Latin. “Tell me, or your dead body will be in the Cloaca Maxima before the day is out.”

Chapter 6

My arms were slick with water, but I used that advantage to wrench myself away from the two men who held me. I was stark naked, with no weapon, but I balled my fists and struck fast.

While gladiators specialized in fighting one-on-one, Aemil had trained me, his top gladiator, to win in all situations.

One of my attackers drew back his foot to kick me in the balls. I caught his leg as it came up and used his own momentum to flip him onto his back. He crashed into the man beside him, who lost his footing and tumbled straight into the pool.

I spun on the other three, jabbing with fists and elbows. I stepped inside one’s planted foot and gave him a sharp shove. He cried out, landing next to his colleague in the water. Neither of them seemed to know what to do when wet except curse and flail.

One of the remaining pair had a knife, its blade long and wicked. I kept my eye on it, while I feinted and struck.

The man slashed out, catching me across the arm, but the blade only broke my skin. I seized the hand with the knife, clamping down on the wrist until I heard bones crack. The man screamed, and the weapon clattered to the marble floor.

I swept up the knife and pointed it at the fourth man, who eyed the blade with respect.

“I am Leonidas the Spartan, champion of the games,” I declared. “Who in Hades are you?”

One of the men in the pool, who struggled to walk through the water, said, “Gladiator?”

The word echoed against the walls, then he trailed off into a language I didn’t know.

I pinned the man I faced with my glare, but my heart pounded. If these were the ruffians after Lucius, and they’d traced him to me, then more might be closing on the wine shop and our apartment even now.

“Tell him to give up,” I commanded. “Or I will find your master and explain why it is bad to harm my friends.”

My assailant looked slightly puzzled. “He wants you to give up. Cease asking questions about Julius Herminius.”

“Why?” I barked.

“Why?” The man repeated, attempting more belligerence. “Because he wants you to. His business is his own.”

“Stealing silk shipments?”

The man shrugged. “I never care what he gets up to. He pays me to see that people don’t bother him about it. So stop, gladiator.”

“I do as I please.”

“Then we’ll have to keep at you.”