"Run off again." At least Chloris was never a girl to engage in subterfuge. That was the trouble in the old days: she had always liked Ma to know exactly what was going on. My mother was shocked, since I wisely never told her anything.
"You let the girl leave?" I showed my annoyance. "Look, if any of you spot her again, will you haul her in, please? She's an urchin in trouble. Name's Albia. I don't want any harm to befall her."
"She will probably run straight back to the brothel, little idiot." Chloris was unfortunately right, I guessed. "What's your interest, Falco? Is she a witness in your case?"
"The drowned man?" I had not thought of it, though it was possible. Albia had scavenged around the Shower of Gold; she might well know something. "I never even asked her. No, my wife took her in."
"Your wife?" Chloris shrieked. "What-some poor bag finally moved in with you? Do I know her?" she demanded suspiciously.
"No." I was certain of that.
"What's she called?"
"Helena Justina."
"Helena is Greek. Is she a slave?"
"Only if her noble papa has been telling very big lies for twenty years. He's a senator. I went respectable."
I knew what kind of raucous reaction that would cause.
When Chloris stopped laughing, she wiped the tears from her eyes. Then she went off again, helplessly. "Oh, I just can't believe it!"
"Believe it," I ordered levelly.
My tone stopped the hysteria. "Don't go pompous on me, Marcus love."
I gave her a grin. It was fake. Just like a lot of things had been in our relationship. It would be tactless to say I was married now because once she had dumped me I had at last found my true love. Chloris, a demonstrative girl, would probably throw up.
"What about you? What's all this?" I asked.
"I knew how to use a sword." In her circus act Chloris had had them as balancers, when she was not waving parasols or feather fans. Males in the audience had liked the frisson of the swords, though most preferred the fans because it looked as if she wore nothing underneath. I happened to know-because she had told me-she wore leather undergarments to prevent rope burns anywhere sensitive. Her motto was: keep your equipment in good order. I expected she still followed that. "I wanted a change when I ditched you, darling. I took up fighting professionally. I knew the organizers already; they soon took me seriously. I'm good!"
"You would be."
A gleam lit her face, half boasting, half invitation. She scrabbled upright on the quicksand of furs, then began working off her boots-high, tight-laced items with hard soles for kicking and thick thongs for protection. With her near-transparent feminine white drapery the contrast was unsettling. That had always been the attraction: a petite girlish figure on someone unexpectedly strong. As she wriggled her bare toes, I began to sweat with erotic recollection. Chloris owned feet that were trained to grip ropes and trapezes; she could use them to curl fiercely around pretty well anything…
"Tell me about your British setup."
"Ooh, Marcus. It sounds as if I'm under investigation."
"Just curious. Why here of all places?"
"Britain? I heard about it enough from you. We formed a team specifically to come out here. Plenty of bored men, with few outlets for entertainment. Perfect spot. A brand-new arena. Best of all, no built-in male gladiator groups, hogging the action and ganging up to stop us working."
"Who's your fixer, your lanista?"
"Stuff that!"
Wrong question. I should have known. Chloris had always been independent. Being prey to managers, who were ignorant of her skills and who stole the appearance fees, had annoyed her in the circus life too. Having a trainer was really not her style.
"We can train ourselves," she said. "We practice every day, and observe each other's progress. Women are damned good analysts."
"Yes, I remember you used to spend a lot of time analyzing what was wrong with me… You lead the team?"
"Analyzing your faults was too exhausting, darling!" she interposed.
"Thanks. You are the leader?" I repeated doggedly.
"We don't have a leader. But I brought the group together. They listen to me. They know I have the best balance and fitness. And I can do two styles-retiarus and secutor-plus I'm working up Thracian too."
I whistled. Not many male gladiators could offer three fighting styles.
"Want to try me out?" she beamed.
"No. I've been thwacked enough for one day."
"Yes, mummy's boy has made himself all tired and grubby with the fat lady… Come here and I'll make you feel better." Chloris stretched, limbering up for an hour's hard workout on me. The mere thought was dispiriting.
She meant it. She thought that I wanted what she wanted, as women do. You could make a philosophical treatise out of it, but I was too preoccupied with staying out of reach. "Look, I'm appalled to be so feeble, but I'm far too hungry, Chloris. I'm no use to you. I just couldn't concentrate."
"Oh, you haven't changed." She thought I was teasing. Dangerously, she enjoyed the thought. "It's make up your mind time!"
"Oh, Chloris, surely you're not going to say, it's screwing me or eating?"
"Sounds a good choice!" She jumped up and came for me. There was no time even to gulp before she was winding herself around me as only an acrobat can. If I had forgotten what that felt like, memory soon surged back."-So which is it, darling?" She chortled.
I sighed with what might pass for polite regret. "Look, I'm absolutely starving. May I have some dinner, please?"
Chloris punched me in the kidneys, though it was a loose, wild swipe that only did partial damage. She flounced from the room. I collapsed, sweating. Then, as I had thought she would, she had a tray sent in to me. I chose my old girlfriends pretty well. There had never been malice in Chloris.
"Later!" she had promised meaningfully as she strode off.
O Mercury, patron of travelers-either get me out of this or just smite me dead so I don't know that it's happening! In Rome I was Procurator of the Sacred Geese and Chickens. O Mercury, never let Chloris discover that! Now I myself was a soft little pullet in my cage, being fattened up. I munched dutifully. I would need my strength.
You don't mix it with a gladiator. Besides, she was a wonderful armful and I certainly knew it. Once, I would have let myself be persuaded without a struggle. There was too much at stake now. I had moved on- way, way into another life. Face-to-face with what was expected from my old self, I felt awkward. I had loyalties nowadays; I had new standards. As Petronius Longus had said to Maia earlier, once you make huge decisions you cannot go back. The shock is the way other people fail to see how much you have altered. After the shock comes the danger. When those people think they know you inside out, you start to doubt yourself.
She must have been impatient. I had barely eaten my solitary victuals when a couple of women came for me.
"Ah, Heraclea, he's looking worried again."
"Yes, I'm scared!" I grinned good-humoredly as if I thought I was being roped in for a themed orgy. Heraclea and her companion exchanged glances, no doubt aware that Chloris had plans. I could not tell how they felt about it, but I knew they would not intervene.
"You're in real trouble," they promised me. Even at that point apprehension of the deepest kind was called for.
When they brought me back to the enclosed garden area, Chloris was waiting for me. She met me with a beaming smile. She wound herself around me, as she drew me into the garden, promising, "Have I got a wonderful surprise for you, darling!"
It seemed best to accept the promise with a tolerant smile. That was before she led me around a statue to the center of the group and I saw just how treacherous a promise it was.
The women were all here. They had fallen silent as Chloris brought me into view, waiting to see what would happen. At the last minute, but too late to alter anything, I had heard another very familiar female voice. I had Chloris hanging off my arm and nibbling on my ear, while I wore an expression that can only have looked like pure guilt. Helena was here.