The Protector. Carla Capshaw
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already heard the bad news. He folded her in his embrace, enjoying how she fit against him, her floral scent, her cheek pressed against his chest. “I know. Alexius tried to help him—”
“By tossing him into the arena?” She pulled back and looked up at him with a dubious frown. “Quintus is a brother in the Lord. He’s a slave because of his faith in Christ. You should free him, Caros. Not allow him to be maimed or worse in that horrid ring of torture.”
He felt her shudder and knew she remembered the day she’d been cast into the arena for her faith. He kissed her brow, grateful the Lord has spared them both, yet wishing he could erase the nightmare for her. “I tried to free Quintus before we left for Umbria. I know he wants his liberty and I had no intention of sending him to fight.”
“Then why—?”
“Because he declined my offer. If he accepted, he’d be indebted to me or so he claimed. He’s a merchant, Pelonia, and a proud man with self-respect. He knows the value of a denarius and he’s determined to pay his full debt himself.”
“But how can he if he has no coin? Why not loan—?”
He shook his head. “I offered. Again, he declined. He won’t take anything that isn’t earned. When he leaves here, he intends to be free in every sense of the word.”
“So Alexius entered him in the arena for the prize winnings.” She searched his face. “But Quintus has only trained five months. How can he be ready?”
He tucked a soft tendril of black hair behind her ear. “Under normal conditions, I’d say he couldn’t be, but Quintus is keenly intelligent and surprisingly agile for one of his class. After he’d been here only a matter of weeks he was already making progress with some of the more advanced battle stances. Alexius told me he fought well.”
“What does that matter now that our friend is injured? His life is worth more than silver. He could have died.”
He lifted her chin with his index finger and looked deeply into her eyes. “Isn’t it you who always reminds me God has a plan for everyone’s life?”
She nodded, but her mouth drooped into a playful pout. “It isn’t nice to throw my words back in my face.”
“And it’s such a beautiful face.” He chuckled and kissed away her frown. “You should be thankful you have a husband who listens.”
She hugged him tight and laughed. “Oh, I am, believe me.”
“Then listen to me,” he said, pleased to see her smile again. “All will be well with Quintus. I’ve denied his request to reenter the ring—”
“What? He asked for another fight? Does he have no care at all for his life?”
“I admit his spirits seem much lower than when we left a month ago. He has the hardened look of a man who doesn’t care if he lives or dies. That’s to be expected after all he’s suffered, but for the moment at least, I’ll ensure he stays breathing. I’m confident the Lord will reveal a way for me to help him earn his freedom without the aid of the arena.”
“Well, then,” she said, resigned, “we shall just have to wait and see.”
Cat bumped Pelonia, jolting her sideways, his patience for attention at an end. Laughing in surprise, she bent over the tiger and nuzzled the top of his striped head. She rubbed Cat’s ears and grinned at Caros. “I think he missed me.”
“I know I would if we were separated a month.”
“A month?” She grimaced. “Don’t think you’ll ever be free of me that long.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Watching her affectionate play with Cat, he marveled at how important she’d become to his happiness, his peace of mind. He tugged her back to him and kissed her tenderly. “A month would be an eternity I couldn’t endure. I miss you the moment you leave my arms.”
Quintus finished the letter he’d written to his brother and rolled up the scroll once it dried. Since his arrest, he’d lost track of the number of messages he’d sent Lucius. None of the correspondence had been answered and he despaired of hearing back from his good-natured but irresponsible twin.
For all he knew, Lucius had taken the gold Quintus entrusted to him after his arrest and traveled to Capri to waste it on dancing girls and honeyed wine. That Lucius had been the sole person Quintus had to rely upon from his prison cell testified to the bleakness of his situation at the time.
Praying Lucius wouldn’t let him down again, he dressed and left the gladiator barracks. Caros’s visit earlier in the morning had been a blessing. It pleased him to know his friends were content and encouraged his faith to see God’s hand at work in their lives.
Drawing in a deep breath of cool, winter air, he crossed the training field, eager to get back to sword practice and regain his full strength. After four days, his wounds were healing. The twinge in his shoulder bothered him less and less, while the ache in his thigh caused no more than a slight limp. It was his dreams of Adiona’s glorious amber eyes and flowing dark hair that conspired to torture him.
He searched the stands until he realized he was looking for those same amber eyes in person. Had he really believed she might be there just because Caros had returned to Rome? Disgusted by his disappointment in her absence, he despised the flaw in him that continued to crave a woman he couldn’t have and shouldn’t want.
“Why are you out here?” Alexius called from a short distance down field. “Go back to the barracks. You’re supposed to rest at least another two days.”
Quintus waited for Alexius to work his way through the maze of gladiators and other training apparatus. “I’d rather bleed to death out here than die of boredom inside that sweltering jail.”
Alexius laughed and clapped him on his good shoulder. “Normally, I’d take pity on you, but Caros and Pelonia are hosting a wedding celebration Friday eve. I have strict instructions to make certain you’re well enough to attend.”
“I’m well enough now.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the back of the main house. A sense of peace radiated from the domus. The open shutters welcomed the sunlight and laughter carried on the breeze from the second-story window.
A shaft of unexpected envy lanced through him. He didn’t begrudge Caros and Pelonia’s happiness, but he couldn’t stop wondering why God had denied all his prayers for a loving wife and a joyful home. He’d spent years praying for Faustina to come to Christ. He’d done his best to be a good and godly husband, but she’d shunned him and his beliefs. Now it was too late. Faustina had taken her own life after the tragic death of their son.
Quintus shrank away from thoughts of Fabius. His son had been his reason to wake each morning. Every detail from his mischievous smile to his boundless energy had been a wonder. Now all Quintus had left was an eternally broken heart.
“Quintus? Did you hear me?”
He blinked and focused on Alexius who watched him with intense silver eyes. “No. What did you say?”
“I said you might be interested to know the widow Leonia will be a guest at the master’s fete Friday.”
Quintus’s heart kicked against his chest and his pulse quickened. He clawed his fingers through his hair, schooling his features to hide his reaction. “What does she have to do with me?”
“After what she overheard in the hospital, I’d wager you’re not her favorite person.”
“Most likely not. If I’m able to speak with her at the party, I’ll apologize.”
“I’ve known her a number of years,” the Greek continued. “So take this as a friendly warning. Say nothing to her and stay clear of her presence. When she’s riled, Adiona Leonia resembles one of the lions her family is named for.”
Quintus ignored his sudden impatience for the party’s arrival. Adiona may