Kitabı oku: «The Champion»
“I understand you’ve … declined all your potential husbands.”
Tibi froze. Aware that her inability to secure a husband had not only enraged her father but had made her a joke, she was mortified to think of Alexius laughing about her behind her back. “Are you mocking me?”
“No. If anything, I admire your unwillingness to accept just any man for a husband.”
“I haven’t declined all of them,” she admitted, enraptured by his nearness and the intensity of his silver eyes enough to speak without subterfuge. “They don’t want me.”
Tibi tugged free of his grasp, regretting the loss of contact the same instant. To her chagrin, his easy release of her hand when moments before he’d insisted on holding her smacked of rejection.
“Then they must have been deaf and blind, as well as ignorant.”
Startled by the unexpected compliment, she reminded herself that Alexius charmed women with the ease of a cobra mesmerizing prey. And he was just as dangerous. To her, perhaps more so.
Dear Reader,
I’m often asked where I get the inspiration for my characters. Most of the time I don’t even know myself, but The Champion was a little different. Tibi and Alexius’s story is similar to the early relationship between my own parents. My mom was raised in a difficult home, and my father was the baby of a big loving family. When they met and married they were happy, but they knew something was missing.
Through the testimony of their friends and family, they realized they needed Christ to forgive their mistakes and make them complete. Though their journey to faith was quiet, it was genuine. They spent the next forty years planting churches, sharing their faith and inspiring others. This month they’ll have been married fifty-three years and are closer than ever.
Although I may not usually know where my inspiration to create my characters comes from, I always see them in their later years as similar to my parents, having lived long lives of faith, loving each other and surrounded by their happy families. I pray for these same blessings for you and your loved one.
I hope you’ve enjoyed Tibi, Alexius and my two other Roman-set stories, The Gladiator and The Protector.
I love to hear from my readers. Please visit my website, www.carlacapshaw.com, and/or write to me at Carla@carlacapshaw.com. Be inspired,
Carla Capshaw
The Champion
Carla Capshaw
MILLS & BOON
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Blessed are those who hear the word of God, and keep it.
—Luke 11:28
My parents, Kenneth and Patricia Hughes.
Everyone should be as blessed to have parents like you!
Your fifty plus years of marriage and decades of ministerial service have shown me true love and true faith do exist in a world that constantly questions both. I love you with all my heart.
Chapter One
Rome, AD 84
“You’re useless, Tibi. You’ve been nothing but a disappointment since the day you were born.”
Numb to her father’s constant condemnation, Tibi stared out the open window of her family’s Palatine home. Except for a few distant cook fires dotting the nearby hills, darkness covered Rome like a thick, heavy blanket. The night was still and silent as though it waited to learn Tibi’s fate.
“Lepidus was the last man of good family willing to wed you,” Tiberius continued to rant. “If he wanted to sample you before the wedding, who are you to object? Instead of welcoming his advances, as you should have done, you reaffirmed your willful reputation and denied him at every turn. Little wonder he stormed from here with no wish to see you again. No man wants a disobedient wife. Not even when her father is willing to pay a fortune to be rid of her.”
Tibi winced, but remained silent. She’d stopped defending herself years ago when she realized that her father always sided against her.
“Why the gods cursed me with two daughters and took my adopted son is beyond my ken, but at least your sister over there had the decency to bring political connections to this house when she wed Senator Tacitus three years ago. As for you, you’re a disgrace.”
In the face of her father’s condemnation, she’d forgotten that Tiberia, her elder, more winsome sister, sat in an alcove near the inner courtyard. Closing her eyes, Tibi breathed in deep to ward off an onslaught of total humiliation. The sweetness of her perfume mocked her earlier decision to forgo the formless linen tunics and comfortable shoes she preferred in favor of feminine silks and the bejeweled sandals now pinching her toes. Despite her father’s belief that she went out of her way to foil all his plans for her, she’d prepared for tonight with care in an effort to please her family and make a good impression on her intended groom.
Shivering from the cool night air, she rubbed the tender spot on her upper arm where Lepidus had grabbed her. He’d cornered her in the shadows of one of the garden columns, then tried to force himself on her while the other guests cheered the gladiatorial contest her father had arranged for their entertainment. She’d narrowly escaped Lepidus’s mauling by biting his lip and refusing to let go until he released her. Neither he nor her father had considered her self-defense justified. Lepidus had stormed from the house, vowing revenge on her shameless behavior and leaving her to bear the brunt of her father’s wrath.
“Four broken betrothals, Tibi. Four. I’m at the end of my patience with you.”
Tibi tightened her jaw to keep from scoffing. When had he ever been patient with her? As a child she’d wondered why he tolerated her elder sister, Tiberia, yet ignored her. She’d tried to gain his love by being quiet and obedient, two traits her mother assured her would lead to his affection, but he continued to regard her as less important than the rugs he trod upon.
As she’d grown older, she realized that she disappointed her father simply by being a girl. The knowledge killed any hope of winning his affection. Instead, she’d worked to earn his respect and shone in areas traditionally reserved for boys. She’d studied history, astronomy and philosophy. She knew how to read and write Latin, as well as speak Greek. She excelled at archery and practiced athletics at the bath’s gymnasium. But she remained a failure in his eyes.
“Look at me,” Tiberius demanded sharply.
Tibi forced her feet to comply and turned around to face him. Aware of the bitterness oozing from her soul, she avoided looking at him directly and studied the lantern-lit room beyond his shoulder. A whiff of incense was the last trace of the disastrous banquet held earlier. Slaves had cleared the colorful room of dishes and swept the mosaic tiles clean. The low couches the diners reclined on while eating had been restored to their proper places against the frescoed walls.
“Your mother coddled you, insisting I waste coin on tutors that gave you the mistaken impression that your opinion counts the same as a man’s,” he sneered. “However, if you were wise, you’d understand that at eighteen years old, you’re well past a ripe marriage age. A girl is a drain on her family if she doesn’t marry for connections. Since no acceptable man will have you, I’m taking you to the temple of Opis tomorrow—”
Both girls gasped in unison. Tibi’s heart kicked with alarm. Her appalled gaze darted to her father’s angry visage. As she expected, his narrowed eyes radiated his antipathy.
“Father, please.” Tiberia, silent until now, rose elegantly from a bench placed beneath one of the archways leading to the garden. “Isn’t that a bit extreme? Perhaps Antonius—”
“Quiet! If I want your counsel I’ll ask for it, daughter. Your husband has already done all I can expect of him by arranging this gathering tonight. Even with his far-flung and lofty contacts, Tibi’s reputation for humiliating men precedes her. It was no simple task for him to snare Lepidus’s interest.”
Like Jupiter condemning mankind from the summit of Olympus, Tiberius jabbed his index finger in Tibi’s direction. “That…that girl has embarrassed me for the last time. If she won’t bring honor to this house through marriage, I’ll see that she fulfills her duty to this family another way and buy her a position as a priestess. Who better for her to serve than the goddess of abundance and fertility? She can attempt to garner blessings for all of us. Who knows? She might even be able to correct your failure as a wife and wrangle a child for you in the bargain.”
Tibi’s stomach churned. The threat of having to perform fertility rites caused her palms to begin to sweat. The room seemed to swirl. “No—”
“Cease.” Tiberius pinned her with a livid glare, his full cheeks bright red with fury. “How dare you presume to say no to me? I’m your father. Not some wretch you can chase off with your contrary ways.”
Horrified, Tibi watched him stalk toward her, an unnatural gleam in his eyes.
“Get to your room before I club you,” he ordered, his lips almost purple in his rage. “And don’t come down until you’re sent for. I can’t bear to look at you a moment longer.”
Brimming with resentment, she forced herself to keep silent before glancing toward the front door and the freedom beyond the heavy stone portal.
Tiberius lunged toward her, his fist clenched. She sped past him and up the stairs to her room. A servant had lit a fat candle on the dressing table in the far corner. Careful not to slam the door for fear of invoking more of her father’s ire, she closed the wood panel behind her and collapsed against it. Her heart was racing as much from her father’s threats as from her own anger. At times like this she missed her mother most. Not that Cornelia would have gone against her husband’s dictates, but she would have been a shoulder to lean on until Tibi’s punishment was carried out.
Despondent, she crossed to the dressing table and removed the diadem of sapphires and gold pins from her blond hair before braiding the long tresses into a single plait that hung to the small of her back. The candlelight illuminated the polished metal mirror hanging on the wall in front of her. She studied the distorted reflection of herself.
Unlike her dark, classically beautiful sister, she was an oddity, not only in looks with her light hair and pale skin, but in her thoughts and deeds as well. A proper woman was meant to be meek, to thrive only in the shadow of her husband and accept his opinions as her own. Little wonder no man had been willing to put up with her when what she longed for most was to be appreciated for herself.
A knock sounded on the door. “Open,” Tiberia called. “Father ordered me to stay with you until morning.”
Tibi gritted her teeth. She flung the door wide and glared at her sister. “From senator’s wife to prison guard all in one evening, Tiberia? How proud you must be.”
Tiberia rolled her dark brown eyes. “By the gods, Tibi, you cause your own misery.” Her regal sister strolled into the room. The glitter of her jewels and the opulence of her red silk stola declared her status as a woman of wealth and social importance. “I’ve been telling you for years if you’d guard your tongue and do what’s expected, life would flow more smoothly for you.”
“You believe I should have allowed Lepidus to molest me?” Tibi asked sharply.
“I think it would have made no difference.” Tiberia drifted across the room to Tibi’s dressing table and began to straighten the perfume bottles and jars of cosmetics into a line. “The marriage contract was ready to be signed. Once you were wed, you would have belonged to him to do with as he liked anyway.”
Tibi bristled with indignation. She’d expected as much from her sister, who was a firm believer in the established order, but it hurt that her own flesh and blood couldn’t be counted on to side with her.
“However, it seems that the matter is neither here nor there,” Tiberia continued. “Your chance to marry walked out the door along with Lepidus. Father was serious about offering you to the temple tomorrow.”
“I was just as serious about not going,” Tibi said, her spine taut. “He doesn’t believe it, but I want very much to wed and have children of my own someday.”
“One would never know by the way you cast off suitors.”
She considered the long list of fortune hunters, old men and toads like Lepidus her father had wooed on her behalf. “I realize I’m no prize,” Tibi said. “But surely there’s at least one man in the province who will want to wed me for me and not Father’s wealth or your husband’s social rank.”
“You speak of love?” Tiberia’s tone mocked her. “How did you become so fanciful?”
“I’m talking about respect.” Tiberia’s attitude annoyed her, especially when her sister’s marriage had been celebrated as a rare love match. “When did you become a cynic?”
“I’m not cynical. I’m realistic enough to accept the world for what it is. I was fortunate to marry a highly acceptable man who returned my affections, but even if I’d despised him, I’d have wed him. Marriage is for personal and familial honor…social position…security…legitimate children. Much more serious issues than simple emotion.”
“That’s easily said when you have all that you hope for.”
“No one has all they hope for. Why should you be different? Father has no son. I have yet to give my husband his longed-for heir. My husband’s desired advancement within the Senate is far from certain.” Tiberia’s jaw tightened. “Listen to me. Respect can be earned and love is fleeting, Tibi. Men who fall in love can fall out again just as quickly. If lasting love and respect are what you want, join the temple. Do your duty to your family, bask in the affections of the goddess’s patrons, then seek your passions later wherever you happen to find them.”
Caught between the reality of her choices and her heart’s desire, Tibi shook her head emphatically. “How can I enter the temple when I’m not even certain I believe in the gods—”
“Say no more!” Tiberia fumbled the glass bottle she held, but caught it before it crashed to the floor. “It’s bad enough you’ve disgraced us all tonight, but do you want to invoke the displeasure of our ancestors and the deities as well?”
Tibi stood from the bed and began to pace the rectangular room. The floor tiles were almost as cold as her father’s heart toward her. The walls seemed to be closing in like a trap.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve followed Pelonia’s bad example and become one of those Christians.” Tiberia shuddered delicately. “You know I love Pelonia with all my heart. I can’t wait to see her when she arrives in Rome tomorrow, but her choice of religion and husband leaves much to be desired.”
Tibi stopped by the window. The cool night air ruffled the flaxen curls framing her face as she looked blindly into the night. Hope flickered inside her like the candle on the dressing table. In the chaos of the banquet preparations and the ensuing catastrophe she’d forgotten about their cousin’s visit. The reminder helped lessen her gloom. At last she began to see a twinkle of light in the darkness. If anyone might help her, Pelonia and her husband, Caros, might. Like her, they understood what it was to live on the edge of acceptability.
“I disagree,” Tibi murmured. “You and Father may see them as mismatched, but Pelonia adores Caros while he practically worships her and their sons. As for their religion, at least they believe in a God of love—”
“Enough.” Tiberia shook her head and eyed Tibi with exasperation. “Why do you have to be so blunt and disagreeable? Not everything has to be a contest of opinions. I realize that Pelonia leads a life charmed by Fortune, but she married a lowly gladiator. Those men are animals—foreigners and criminals who deserve to die in the sand.”
“Tiberia—!”
“And,” Tiberia continued undaunted, “if she doesn’t keep her choice of religion a secret she might find herself sentenced to the arena again. Is that what you want? To shame your family more than you already have? To be pitied everywhere you go because you threw yourself away on an ex-slave?”
Although she’d known Tiberia hated Caros for once enslaving their cousin three years earlier, she was stunned by Tiberia’s vehemence. The former lanista had repented of his ways long ago and proven to be a marvelous husband. No one outside their own family pitied Pelonia. If anything, women from Rome to Umbria secretly envied her.
“Better an ex-slave who’s handsome, rich and adores me,” Tibi said, “than to sacrifice my life serving a goddess I don’t believe in. As for shaming my family, didn’t you hear Father? I’ve been a disappointment since the day I was born. Truly, I’m certain he considers it a shame that I was ever born.”
The silence lingered. Tiberia couldn’t refute a fact they both knew to be true. She turned sharply on her heel and sought out the cushioned chair near the door. Her thoughts in a tumble, Tibi renewed her pacing. Certain she was beyond the reaches of prayer, she fully believed her father planned to be free of her one way or the other.
Somehow she had to escape to the Ludus Maximus before sunrise or her father would have a chance to carry out his threat. Caros had sold the ludus two years earlier to Alexius of Iolcos, but he and Pelonia stayed there when they returned from Umbria for several weeks each spring.
Tibi only hoped her cousin’s plans hadn’t changed without warning. If they had made other arrangements, she’d find herself facing Alexius and the mortification that would smother her if he learned the reason behind her current predicament.
A vision of piercing eyes the color of liquid silver formed in her mind’s eye. She slowed to a stop in the center of the bedchamber. Ever since she’d first met Alexius three years ago, she’d steered clear of the Greek as much as possible when she visited her cousins to avoid the peculiar way he affected her senses. Just the sound of his softly accented voice infused her with warmth.
She shook her head, determined not to dwell on the darkly handsome lanista or the way his quick smile seemed to melt her bones. Although he could have retired from the games when he took over the Ludus Maximus, Alexius preferred to fight. He remained Rome’s premier gladiatorial champion, a titan who stirred rumors as much for his womanizing as for his bloodlust and lack of pity in the arena.
And I’d be a fool to let myself become enamored with a man as callous as Father.
Not that Alexius had ever made the slightest overture toward her, she mused as she exchanged the silk she wore for a tunic of dark gray wool. In truth, the Greek seemed just as intent on evading her as she was determined to avoid him. Which didn’t surprise her, since females all over Rome vied for his attention and she was a woman no man wanted.
At the basin, she cleansed her face, wishing she could wash away the knowledge that she was a failure both to her family and as a woman as easily as she removed the kohl and rouge from her pale skin.
Once Tiberia fell asleep, Tibi quietly packed a small pouch of coins, three fresh tunics, several pieces of jewelry to sell if need be and a few other necessities into a leather satchel. Wondering if her plan to escape was brave or foolhardy, she reminded herself that she had no other option unless she wished to join the temple.
Icy fingers of disgust crept across the back of her neck. She made haste and secured a sheathed knife to her belt for protection before making her way into the dimly lit hall. Downstairs, she slipped past the guard who’d fallen asleep in the courtyard and silently out the door.
Taking a deep breath of crisp night air, she brushed off her fear of the eerily deserted streets and kept to the shadows as she hurried in the direction of the gladiator school.
Alexius of Iolcos set down his chalice of wine, rattled the dice in his hand and cast the ivory pieces onto the scarred wooden table. Seeing the winning roll, the bevy of beauties surrounding him clapped and shrieked like inebriated water nymphs. His opponents’ agonized groans competed with the revelry of his many guests and the wandering musicians whose bawdy songs filled the public rooms of the domus.
Alexius laughed and taunted the other players good-naturedly, although he was less than satisfied with his win. Of late, boredom trailed him without mercy. The endless stream of wine, women and work no longer muted the monstrous rage he constantly fought to keep caged within him. Known for his congenial nature outside the ring, he found it more and more difficult to smile and pretend that his meaningless existence was any more useful than a dry well in a desert.
As lanista of the Ludus Maximus and Rome’s current gladiator champion, he ruled over a kingdom of vice and violence. He had a comfortable life, a better life than a foreigner and once-condemned man had any right to hope for, but he’d known for months that he needed a change for his sanity’s sake.
“Master,” his steward, Velus, said over the music and grousing of the other players, “there’s a woman here to see you.”
“Who is it?” he tossed over his shoulder distractedly as he scooped up his winnings.
The steward’s fidgeting drew Alexius’s full attention. Velus didn’t usually hesitate when he announced the steady stream of female admirers who visited the gladiators on a regular basis. The older man, a dwarf Alexius had saved from certain death as lion fodder in the arena, motioned to come closer and whispered for only his master to hear, “Mistress Pelonia’s cousin, Tiberia the Younger.”
Tibi? Alexius tensed. His smile faltered. He forgot the remaining coins on the tabletop even as his heart began to echo the drums’ frenzied beat. Perhaps—hopefully—he’d misheard.
“Who brought her here?”
“She’s alone.”
He scowled. He usually admired the girl’s untamed spirit, but not when it led her to wander Rome’s dangerous streets at all hours of the night. There was no acceptable reason for a well-born woman to venture out alone a few hours after midnight unless…
“Has there been an accident?” he demanded. “Is she hurt?”
“Not that I know of, master, but she’s adamant to speak with you.”
“Where is she?” Alexius’s gaze circled the smoky room on a quest to find Tibi’s splendid golden hair. He didn’t want her here. The evening may have started out as a coena libera, the solemn last meal for the gladiators scheduled to fight the next afternoon, but had rapidly unraveled into a raucous affair of dancing, games of chance and other debauchery he didn’t want to be responsible for an innocent girl like Tibi to witnessing.
“She’s waiting in your office,” Velus said.
Alexius sent the steward to fetch Tibi something to eat and drink from the banquet table overflowing with fresh fruit, breads, roasted fowl and a variety of fish.
Several of the men and women playing dice with him had wandered over to the food during his exchange with Velus, but a few vultures waited expectantly for any scrap of gossip. Gossip he wasn’t about to feed them. Tibi’s reputation was colorful enough as it was. If she were tattled on for venturing to the gladiator school at this hour, she was bound to suffer trouble with her overbearing father.
Confident that Tibi would go unnoticed in his office, Alexius excused himself from the table as eager to find out the reason for her appearance as to send her safely on her way. As he cut through the maze of revelers, across the central garden and down the long, lantern-lit corridor that separated the house’s public rooms from his private sanctuary, he forced his feet to a slow pace, careful not to betray his interest in the night’s newest development. The girl’s arrival was the first thing to spark any excitement in him in…he couldn’t remember how long.
The thought of Tibi made him smile. Both beautiful, yet unaware of the fact, and classically feminine, but audacious, she was as unique as a sunrise—pleasantly different each time he saw her.
Unfortunately, as the cousin of his friends, Caros and Pelonia, Tibi was one of only a handful of females in all of Rome off-limits to him. Caros had made certain of that when he made Alexius swear to stay away from the girl.
Still…something unfortunate must have happened for her to seek him out. If she needed him, it might prove entertaining for a while to offer his help.
Alexius entered his office to find Tibi pacing in front of the long row of arched windows overlooking the gladiators’ training field. Stars sparkled in the black sky behind her, a serene contrast to her obvious agitation.
He watched her for a long moment, suddenly unable to breathe. In the six months since he’d last seen her, she’d grown even lovelier than he remembered. Candlelight caused her golden braid to shimmer as she walked from one side of the room to the other and her fair skin was as smooth and creamy as a perfect cameo. For a man who enjoyed women of all shapes, sizes and looks, it was a new experience for him to be knocked breathless by the sight of one.
Shaking off her spell, he leaned against the door frame, crossed his arms over his chest and adopted a nonchalant tone. “Hello, Tibi.”
Tibi stilled, then spun to face Rome’s champion. “Hello…Alexius.”
“Why are you here?” he asked. “It’s a bit late—or early—in the day for you to drop by, no?”
Her cheeks burned under the heat of Alexius’s warm regard. Her heart fluttered wildly. Finding herself in his company was even more disconcerting than she remembered. Tall and muscular, he was a vibrant man who filled the room with energy and sent her senses reeling.
She dragged in a deep breath to calm her jangled nerves and swallowed thickly. “I understand Caros and Pelonia are coming to Rome for a visit. I’d hoped they were already here. I need to speak with them.”
Without taking his eyes off her, Alexius left the doorway and crossed the tiled floor to his desk. “I expect them some time today. Tomorrow at the latest.”
“Ah…” Tibi worried at her bottom lip as she struggled to hide her rising desperation. “I’m wasting your time then. I apologize for taking you from your guests.”
“No need to apologize.” He sounded sincere. “I’d much rather be here with you.”
His Greek accent whispered across her skin like the softest caress. Her eyes rounded with surprise before she quickly glanced away. How was it possible for him to touch her without actually touching her? “I must be going. I’ll come back later.”
“Where will you go?” he asked, easing toward her. “It’s the middle of the night. I suspect you can’t go home. You must be in serious trouble to risk the danger of wandering the streets like a common pornai.”
She breathed in his scent of smoke and the heady mix of exotic spices. “It’s nothing. I wished to speak with Pelonia. I…I’ve missed her this past year—that’s all.”
“I can tell you lie as plainly as I can see you’re trembling.” His calloused palms engulfed her cold hands, refusing to release her when she tried to pull away. “Tell me the truth and I’ll free you.”
She stopped struggling. It was no use to fight a man famous for his success in battle. “My father…”
“Go on,” he invited when she fell into silence. “What’s the old dragon done this time?”
Her gaze darted to the shadows dancing on the wall behind him. “He wishes me to wed.”
“No surprise there. He’d already prepared you for sacrifice on the marriage altar when I first met you three years ago. I understand you’ve…declined all your potential husbands.”
She froze. Aware that her inability to secure a husband had not only enraged her father but had made her a joke among the females of her social class, she was mortified to think of Alexius laughing about her with his women behind her back. “Are you mocking me?”
“No. If anything, I respect your unwillingness to accept just any man as a husband.”
“I haven’t declined all of them,” she admitted, disturbed by his nearness and the incandescence of his silver eyes enough to speak without subterfuge. “They don’t want me.”
She tugged free of his grasp, regretting the loss of contact the same instant. To her chagrin, his easy release of her hand when moments before he’d insisted on holding her smacked of rejection.
“Then they must have been deaf and blind as well as ignorant.”
Startled by the unexpected compliment, she reminded herself that Alexius charmed women with the ease of a cobra mesmerizing prey. And he was just as dangerous. To her, perhaps more so. “Now who’s the liar?”
He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve no need for falsehoods when it’s easier to speak the truth.” His warm fingertips brushed her cheek and trailed down the sensitive line of her jaw. Gripped by the too-pleasant sensation of his touch, she prayed the dim candlelight disguised her response.
She eased out of his reach and nearly fell backward when she bumped into a table behind her. He reached to steady her, but she righted herself in time to escape his help. Hot-cheeked and mortified by her lack of grace, she was appalled to realize what a challenge it was to string coherent thoughts together when he touched her.
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