interested him in the arena when he was young enough to be taken to see the games and now, I think, he wants to see him fight and win in some small engagement. Not yet, of course, but when he’s ready. As he’s willing to pay for the trouble, I’m taking I can’t object.”
“His own son? The man must be mad!”
“He’s a Roman and sometimes I think all Romans are mad. Do you think the boy is any good?”
“No.” His body was too slight, his bones too frail, and despite his interest he lacked an inner fire, a determination to win, without which no fighter could survive. It could be instilled, given time, but how to take the son of a rich patrician and treat him as a slave? “Not as a swordsman,” I amended. “With the net, perhaps, but his father wouldn’t go for that and, in any case, I wouldn’t bet on him.”
“And me?”
I met his eyes and saw the question, the one each man carried within himself and could never escape. The clock measured a fighter’s life. Agonestes was almost forty, an old age for many, too old for the normal gladiator. Yet he was my friend.
“On you, yes.”
“If you bet on me you’d be a fool,” he said flatly. “I haven’t been in the arena for years and you know it. Not since we took out those women—and I wasn’t fighting then. Time gets us all, Atilus. I’m no exception.”
“You’d fight and you’d win.” I finished my wine. “What do a few years matter? You’ve kept in condition and you are still as good as the best. A little older, perhaps, but what of that? You could take on any of a dozen I’ve seen lately, and have them downed before they knew what hit them.”
It wasn’t wholly a lie and I could see that he was pleased.
“Anyway,” I added, “what does it matter? You’re not going to fight again.”
“What else?” His eyes darkened. “Live on your charity?”
“You have money.”
“I had money,” he corrected. “It’s gone. Some bad investments and, well, other things.”
Young men and, maybe, a few boys. I thought of the boy outside, but he was a true Roman, and would not yield himself to another man. For him, even if he’d had the inclination, it would have been easy to choose. For others it was not so easy. Looking at Agonestes, I felt a quick sympathy. Once so eagerly chased by wealthy patricians, it wasn’t pleasant for him to have to do the chasing.
“You don’t have to worry,” I said. “This house is your home—use it as such.” And before he could object I added, “When my ship comes home we’ll all be rich.”
“Your ship—any word as yet?”
It was the biggest investment and almost the biggest gamble I had ever undertaken. Nothing could beat the gamble of life itself, but this came close. I’d taken a half-share in a trading venture, paying hard-won gold for both vessel and cargo bound for the East. It would trade the goods of Rome for rare and exotic spices, silk, dyes, valuable animals, and anything else the captain decided would bring a profit. The cost had been high, but the potential profit was enormous.
“There were storms in the Aegean,” said Agonestes quietly. “Sabinianus had word of them from a courier traveling from Ravenna to Miscenum. The seas were too rough for him to take passage. Your vessel may have had to run before the wind and taken shelter somewhere.”
“Perhaps.”
“Or—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Never mind. Your argosy will arrive in its own good time. But I can’t depend on you forever.”
“We’ll be partners. Rome is full of opportunities and I’ll stake you to a venture. We can speculate in land, buy some tenements and add a few extra floors, and there is always the animal trade in beasts for the arena. Look at Ofonius Tigellinus! Once he was a Sicilian horse-trader and now he is Prefect of the Praetorians.”
“I know,” said Agonestes. “Poor old Burrus was barely cold when the Emperor filled his shoes with that crawling sycophant.”
“But he got the position,” I reminded. “Never mind how he climbed, he reached the top. And if a stinking dealer in horses could rise to command the Praetorians, then just think of how high a trained gladiator could rise if he put his mind to it. Don’t look so glum, man. You’ll never starve.”
“No.” He set down his wine. “I know you well enough for that, Atilus, but there is more to life than bread.”
“And you’ll have more,” I promised. “Much more. We both will. Now let me hear no more about you getting old. Listening to you turns my hair gray.”
“If it does, Atilus, there is always dye.”
“And short-sighted women?”
“You’ll never want for those, short-sighted or otherwise. You have the gift, Atilus. The face of a god and a body to match. Rome is covered with inscriptions from young girls who long for your embrace.” Lifting the goblet, he spilled a few drops of wine on the floor. “That for the gods and the rest”—he drank—“to you. Now I’d better see how Felicio is getting on.”
Satisfied, I moved through the house as Agonestes headed toward the garden, his face more relaxed now, his mood brighter because of my reassurance. Inside, Heraculis straightened from his examination of the sword I had brought from Aquilia’s house and the bag of gold lying beside it.
“Take the one,” I said, “and I’ll cut off your hands with the other.”
“And hang them around my neck with a cord? Master, we aren’t in the degenerate East but in Rome.”
“That won’t stop me.”
“Did I say that it would? But, master, it is against the law to subject your slaves to cruel and unnatural punishments.”
“You aren’t a slave now and haven’t been for years. Are there any messages?”
“Three.” He lifted the fingers of one hand. “The Lady Amilia would like you to attend her on a journey she intends to make shortly to Narbonese Gaul. The fee for your protective services has not yet been settled.”
“It won’t be. Gaul is too far and the lady too ugly.”
He lowered one finger. “Grassus Paciaecus extends an invitation for you to stay with him for a few days at—”
“No. I’m not keen on supplying what he wants. What else?”
“An invitation from the Great School for you to attend the banquet to be held in honor of Gallus Caecina on the occasion of his retirement.”
“Gallus retiring?”
“So the message stated. It is by his own wish, I understand. It isn’t for a while as yet, but I said that you would be there.”
“You did right. Gallus retiring!” I shook my head; it seemed incredible. Another proof of the insidious passage of time. He had seemed as solid as the stones of the school
