on the walls that detailed the services offered within, but her movements drew a prostitute to where she stood inside the doorway. The woman looked over the young gladiator, amused, then beckoned to the interior of the house. Ariella shook her head and stalked from the building, courage finding its way back into her heart.
She found Cato still outside, and yanked the paint and brush from his hands.
He laughed. "I cannot decide which is the real Ariella. The quiet woman being led, or the foolhardy fighter ready to oppose the world."
She turned to leave. "I would not have survived this long without being who I am." She felt him watching her as she left him. Would she see him again? She slowed and faced him a last time. "Thank you. For everything. I am in your debt."'
He bowed his head. "I will look forward to being repaid."
Of course.
She chose the outer wall of the Eumachia, where the prominent fullers and their many customers would pass, for her first advertisement.
Thirty pairs of gladiators provided by Gnaeus Nigidius Maius, quinquennial duovir, together with their substitutes will fight at Pompeii . . .
Her hands brushed the strokes without thought, and her mind grasped for answers to her new crisis.
Meanwhile her heart retreated, following the Roman who today had saved her life.
CHAPTER 12
Cato had no heart for the speeches or the parade, and wandered home before the politicians had finished. His encounter with the madman had troubled him, though he could not say why. Only that there was something not right here in Pompeii. He could feel it. And the run-in with Ari, now Ariella, had disturbed him further. What interest should he have in a slave? He had plenty of his own.
By the next morning he had convinced himself that it was the curiosity of a female gladiator that intrigued him.
The games that Maius had so generously sponsored for the amusement of the city were scheduled for tonight. Would Ariella be there, in the arena? What would happen when she took to the ring? Would she be hurt?
Cato lounged in his gardens, trying to amuse himself with Cicero's writings, and urging the sun to track across the sky at a faster pace. By mid-morning he grew restless and even Octavia noticed.
"You are like a little boy, pacing as you wait." She patted his cheek. "Find something to keep you busy."
He shrugged her off. "I am only anxious to see what sort of display can purchase the silence of an entire town."
Octavia frowned. "Nigidius Maius has not stopped boasting all week."
Isabella entered the garden in time to hear her mother's comment. "The slaves are saying that he has even brought dwarves."
Octavia clucked at her daughter. "Isabella, I do not like you gossiping among the slaves. It is most inappropriate."
Isabella grinned and shrugged.
"What do they know of the gladiators?" Cato asked.
Octavia gave an exasperated sigh, and lifted her hands. "You two are exactly alike. I shall leave you to your gossip."
But before Cato could question Isabella further, a shout from the street startled all three.
Remus burst through the doorway, into the atrium, skidding to a stop before the dancing faun. "The vines!" His breath came in short gasps. "The vines are burning!"
Cato pushed past his sister and mother and crossed the mosaic floor to grab Remus by the shoulders. "My vines? How?"
The servant shook his head. "You must come!"
Cato nodded and the two ran from the house. He was aware that Isabella followed, amidst his mother's protestations, but he soon outpaced her.
It took too long to cross the city, to the outskirts where his vineyard lay next to the arena. As he rounded the corner of the last street of houses and ran through the grassy area alongside the new palaestra, he could see the black smoke rising from behind his fence.
How could this have happened? He had sent Remus to do a little pruning, after showing him carefully how to trim and crop the vines. The man should not have been using any kind of flame.
As
She found Cato still outside, and yanked the paint and brush from his hands.
He laughed. "I cannot decide which is the real Ariella. The quiet woman being led, or the foolhardy fighter ready to oppose the world."
She turned to leave. "I would not have survived this long without being who I am." She felt him watching her as she left him. Would she see him again? She slowed and faced him a last time. "Thank you. For everything. I am in your debt."'
He bowed his head. "I will look forward to being repaid."
Of course.
She chose the outer wall of the Eumachia, where the prominent fullers and their many customers would pass, for her first advertisement.
Thirty pairs of gladiators provided by Gnaeus Nigidius Maius, quinquennial duovir, together with their substitutes will fight at Pompeii . . .
Her hands brushed the strokes without thought, and her mind grasped for answers to her new crisis.
Meanwhile her heart retreated, following the Roman who today had saved her life.
CHAPTER 12
Cato had no heart for the speeches or the parade, and wandered home before the politicians had finished. His encounter with the madman had troubled him, though he could not say why. Only that there was something not right here in Pompeii. He could feel it. And the run-in with Ari, now Ariella, had disturbed him further. What interest should he have in a slave? He had plenty of his own.
By the next morning he had convinced himself that it was the curiosity of a female gladiator that intrigued him.
The games that Maius had so generously sponsored for the amusement of the city were scheduled for tonight. Would Ariella be there, in the arena? What would happen when she took to the ring? Would she be hurt?
Cato lounged in his gardens, trying to amuse himself with Cicero's writings, and urging the sun to track across the sky at a faster pace. By mid-morning he grew restless and even Octavia noticed.
"You are like a little boy, pacing as you wait." She patted his cheek. "Find something to keep you busy."
He shrugged her off. "I am only anxious to see what sort of display can purchase the silence of an entire town."
Octavia frowned. "Nigidius Maius has not stopped boasting all week."
Isabella entered the garden in time to hear her mother's comment. "The slaves are saying that he has even brought dwarves."
Octavia clucked at her daughter. "Isabella, I do not like you gossiping among the slaves. It is most inappropriate."
Isabella grinned and shrugged.
"What do they know of the gladiators?" Cato asked.
Octavia gave an exasperated sigh, and lifted her hands. "You two are exactly alike. I shall leave you to your gossip."
But before Cato could question Isabella further, a shout from the street startled all three.
Remus burst through the doorway, into the atrium, skidding to a stop before the dancing faun. "The vines!" His breath came in short gasps. "The vines are burning!"
Cato pushed past his sister and mother and crossed the mosaic floor to grab Remus by the shoulders. "My vines? How?"
The servant shook his head. "You must come!"
Cato nodded and the two ran from the house. He was aware that Isabella followed, amidst his mother's protestations, but he soon outpaced her.
It took too long to cross the city, to the outskirts where his vineyard lay next to the arena. As he rounded the corner of the last street of houses and ran through the grassy area alongside the new palaestra, he could see the black smoke rising from behind his fence.
How could this have happened? He had sent Remus to do a little pruning, after showing him carefully how to trim and crop the vines. The man should not have been using any kind of flame.
As
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