escaped slave woman has only one place to go, and I do not wish to see you in the brothel." Cato's own face flushed then. How curious that he seemed embarrassed by the comment. "I mean that I do not want you to be forced into that life. No one should be."
She saw something different in him in that moment. Since their first conversation, he had seemed a rushing river, all swift speech and sharp retorts, charming as he was. But she saw something else in his eyes now. A deep loathing for evil and for injustice, a desire to right all wrongs, as much a part of him as all the witty sarcasm.
It was too much for her, this quiet conversation with a good man. A priest moved about the back of the temple, and Ariella used Cato's momentary distraction to pull away from his hold and rush back into the colonnade of the Forum.
But she had only fled one problem to face another. She emerged from the temple and found herself facing Drusus, the lanista.
Her sudden emergence drew his attention, and one look at her brought recognition. She would never have fooled him by simply changing her clothing.
He looked her up and down, taking in her clothes, and scowled. Then stepped toward her. "What is this? I send you to paint signs for the games, and—" He trailed off, as though unable to form the words around his discovery.
She felt Cato at her back, solid and strong.
Drusus's eyes moved above her head, and his brow furrowed.
"Drusus, is it?"
Ariella watched as the lanista straightened a bit to be known by a man such as the one behind her.
"What can I do for you, my lord?"
"You can accept my apologies for—detaining—your young warrior here."
Drusus looked back and forth between Cato and her, and she felt a sweat break out on her forehead as a light of understanding came into Drusus's eyes.
"Ah, I see." He jabbed a finger at the temple. "All kinds of ways to worship the gods, of course. Who am I to say what is right?" He grinned at Ariella. "Besides, he makes a better woman than he does a man, eh?" To Cato, he added, "But I suppose you already know that."
His implication sickened her and cast an unfair light on Cato, but she could not defend him.
"Yes, well, I appreciate your willingness to share him."
Drusus bowed. "We are here to serve, my lord." He winked. "In any way that we can."
Drusus spoke out of a hope of being reimbursed for his trouble, and Cato did not disappoint him. She could not see how much money the nobleman slipped to the older man. Did not want to see.
"So get to your painting, then, boy." Drusus jabbed at her side. " After you retrieve your own clothing."
Ariella nodded.
Drusus continued across the Forum, soon engaged in conversation with someone, but continuing his glances in their direction.
"I am sorry." She could not look up at him.
"Listen, Ari. You should make it known that you are a woman. I saw a few female gladiators in Rome, and they were much revered and valued. Your life would no doubt be spared, if only to bring the crowds out to see you again."
She shook her head, unable to even consider going back. And yet—the lanista watched her still and she could not run now. Her mind felt sluggish. "I must paint the signs."
"Where is your paint?" Cato spoke to her as though she were a child, and so she felt.
"I have none. I used the money for the fabric."
"Come." He led her down the colonnade, away from Drusus's watching eyes, his gentle hand on her elbow, guiding her. In the Macellum, she followed as he purchased supplies for her, then led her again out the back of the market, into the street. They retraced their steps to the brothel.
He held the paint and brush, and steered her toward the door. "Find your clothing. Put it on."
She obeyed, because it was the only way.
Her tunic and belt still lay on the floor where she had dropped them, and she grieved a moment for the hope that had been part of her in that moment before she left this house.
She changed quickly, refusing to look at the paintings
She saw something different in him in that moment. Since their first conversation, he had seemed a rushing river, all swift speech and sharp retorts, charming as he was. But she saw something else in his eyes now. A deep loathing for evil and for injustice, a desire to right all wrongs, as much a part of him as all the witty sarcasm.
It was too much for her, this quiet conversation with a good man. A priest moved about the back of the temple, and Ariella used Cato's momentary distraction to pull away from his hold and rush back into the colonnade of the Forum.
But she had only fled one problem to face another. She emerged from the temple and found herself facing Drusus, the lanista.
Her sudden emergence drew his attention, and one look at her brought recognition. She would never have fooled him by simply changing her clothing.
He looked her up and down, taking in her clothes, and scowled. Then stepped toward her. "What is this? I send you to paint signs for the games, and—" He trailed off, as though unable to form the words around his discovery.
She felt Cato at her back, solid and strong.
Drusus's eyes moved above her head, and his brow furrowed.
"Drusus, is it?"
Ariella watched as the lanista straightened a bit to be known by a man such as the one behind her.
"What can I do for you, my lord?"
"You can accept my apologies for—detaining—your young warrior here."
Drusus looked back and forth between Cato and her, and she felt a sweat break out on her forehead as a light of understanding came into Drusus's eyes.
"Ah, I see." He jabbed a finger at the temple. "All kinds of ways to worship the gods, of course. Who am I to say what is right?" He grinned at Ariella. "Besides, he makes a better woman than he does a man, eh?" To Cato, he added, "But I suppose you already know that."
His implication sickened her and cast an unfair light on Cato, but she could not defend him.
"Yes, well, I appreciate your willingness to share him."
Drusus bowed. "We are here to serve, my lord." He winked. "In any way that we can."
Drusus spoke out of a hope of being reimbursed for his trouble, and Cato did not disappoint him. She could not see how much money the nobleman slipped to the older man. Did not want to see.
"So get to your painting, then, boy." Drusus jabbed at her side. " After you retrieve your own clothing."
Ariella nodded.
Drusus continued across the Forum, soon engaged in conversation with someone, but continuing his glances in their direction.
"I am sorry." She could not look up at him.
"Listen, Ari. You should make it known that you are a woman. I saw a few female gladiators in Rome, and they were much revered and valued. Your life would no doubt be spared, if only to bring the crowds out to see you again."
She shook her head, unable to even consider going back. And yet—the lanista watched her still and she could not run now. Her mind felt sluggish. "I must paint the signs."
"Where is your paint?" Cato spoke to her as though she were a child, and so she felt.
"I have none. I used the money for the fabric."
"Come." He led her down the colonnade, away from Drusus's watching eyes, his gentle hand on her elbow, guiding her. In the Macellum, she followed as he purchased supplies for her, then led her again out the back of the market, into the street. They retraced their steps to the brothel.
He held the paint and brush, and steered her toward the door. "Find your clothing. Put it on."
She obeyed, because it was the only way.
Her tunic and belt still lay on the floor where she had dropped them, and she grieved a moment for the hope that had been part of her in that moment before she left this house.
She changed quickly, refusing to look at the paintings
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