Saturnalian Gifts (Leonidas the Gladiator Mysteries)

Chapter 1

“Well met, Leonidas.”

The hearty greeting came from Aemilianus, the lanista who’d once owned me, when I’d been the most famous gladiator in Rome.

Since I’d been granted my freedom, exactly one year ago, he’d constantly tried to persuade me to return to his ludus, either for exhibition matches or to help him train other gladiators.

Any joy in Aemil’s voice at seeing me on this damp December day meant he wanted something.

The chance encounter on this teeming street in the Carinae was made worse by the presence of Regulus, once my friend, now primus palus of Aemil’s gladiators and my sworn enemy.

“Aemil,” I said neutrally. I did not bother to greet Regulus, who glowered at me over Aemil’s shoulder.

“If you’re looking for Saturnalian gifts, you won’t find any sigillaria here,” Regulus sneered. “This is a street for respectable people.”

I didn’t bother with the obvious response, then why are you here? I’d learned it was a waste of time to argue with Regulus.

Nor did I bother to explain that I wasn’t shopping for sigillaria , the small clay or wax human-shaped figures that were traditional gifts for friends at Saturnalia.

I didn’t know exactly why we exchanged such presents, and even Nonus Marcianus, the medicus with a wide range of knowledge in his head, didn’t know either.

But, as with most festivals in Rome, we followed the tradition, because it was what you did at Saturnalia.

Some shopkeepers made their livings by supplying the small doll-like figures throughout the month of December, with an entire street devoted to their shops.

Other popular gifts were joke items I didn’t see the point of—lamps that wouldn’t light, vinegar labeled as fine wine, crudely carved erotic figurines.

I had decided this December to hunt for a true gift for Cassia, to reward her for putting up with me for an entire year. What I sought from which craftsman was none of their business.

Aemil and Regulus were probably on this street because it led more or less directly from the Subura to the Forum, and from there to a bridge that would take them across the Tiber to Aemil’s ludus.

Citizens, freedmen, slaves, and foreigners surged around us, pushing through the arcades of the narrow street, trying to avoid the cold, misty rain that had begun this morning.

“One year ago nearly to the day since you were handed the rudis , ” Aemil said, naming the wooden sword that symbolized my freedom. “That happened during the Saturnalian games, didn’t it?”

He well knew that it had, having been at the games in question and not happy to lose his best gladiator. The fees Aemil had received for my appearances had been enormous.

“Yes,” I said tersely.

“Why not come back to the games to celebrate your first year as a freedman?” Aemil asked brightly, as though the idea had just come to him.

I imagined he’d been planning this question for some time, waiting for the right moment to hurl it at me.

“Carry the rudis in the parade, maybe fight an exhibition match with Regulus.”

Regulus scowled in sudden annoyance.

“No,” I said at once. “I am finished.”

Aemil’s optimism didn’t evaporate. He had eyes of two different colors—one blue, one brown-green—and they both glinted. “Walk in the parade anyway. Your followers will be thrilled to see you.”

I shook my head.

Regulus, I could see, agreed with me. As primus palus since my departure of the ludus, he should lead the parade of gladiators and other fighters at the opening of the games. He fiercely guarded his position and all the perks he obtained as top fighter in Rome.

Aemil’s hard face took on its usual stoniness. “You don’t have to do anything at all, Leonidas. Just stand there. It will bring more people to the games.”

The more popular Aemil’s gladiators were, the higher the fees he could charge. Me enticing in a mass of spectators would indicate that Aemil’s ludus was worth hiring at a high price.

“Just stand there,” I repeated.

“Maybe raise the rudis.” Aemil quickly shrugged as he saw my frown deepen. “Or nothing at all. Whatever you like.”

The thought of stepping out onto the arena floor of the Circus Gai, while the mob chanted my name, made my body chill and my chest tighten.

I’d smell the sand carted in to mask the blood, plus the sweat and fear of the condemned, the wild animals, and the gladiators prepared to fight to the death for the pleasure of the crowd.

Could I even make myself enter? Or would my feet refuse to move once I was through the gate, blackness rising before me to send me to the ground? Regulus would make sure the crowd mocked me, the former great Leonidas falling on his face in a swoon.

Aemil would be so furious he might kill me on the spot.

On the other hand …

I glanced at the shop I’d emerged from before Aemil had hailed me. The goldsmith who owned it, a man called Decimus, made delicate ornaments of skillfully worked gold. I’d asked him what price I’d have to pay for a pin to hold closed the finely woven cloak Cassia wore in the cool of winter.

Cassia was a scribe but also a slave, so the fabrics she wore were limited by law. She stuck to linen sheaths that brushed the tops of her leather sandals or closed shoes, and woolen cloaks that hid her in their many folds.

Cassia, however, was resourceful enough to find wool so delicate it draped like a Roman matron’s exquisite silks. She was proud of the light gray winter cloak she’d recently purchased that kept her warm as she strolled about Rome on her errands.

The pin I wanted him to make would be expensive, Decimus warned me, but I was determined to find the means to buy it.

I’d learned in the months I’d lived with Cassia, who could negotiate like the sharpest advocate in the courts of the Basilica Julia, to never let pass an opportunity to bring in some needed cash.

She was at home today, as I’d wanted to keep my trip to the goldsmith secret from her, but I could hear her voice as clearly as if she stood next to me.

Tell Aemil to name his price.

“What fee will you pay?” I asked, as though it was of negligible interest.

Do not settle for the first offer, Cassia seemed to whisper to me. He will go higher, if he truly wants you.

“A sestertius,” Aemil responded testily. “I know your slave will demand at least that.”

I rubbed my head, noting that I needed to visit the barber again to have it shaved close.

“She will want two,” I responded warningly.

“Juno’s teeth, Leonidas,” Aemil growled.

I shrugged. “Two sestertii. Or I’ll have to refuse.”

Aemil weighed paying me more than he wanted against the eventual riches that my presence might bring his way.

“I could kill him,” Regulus offered while Aemil pondered. “At the games, I mean. I could run him through before the multitudes, the new primus palus ridding Rome of the old. I’d wager many would pay to see that .”

I remained stoic, my arms folded, giving Regulus the unmoving stare I’d grown famous for.

Regulus would happily murder me as part of the spectacle and laugh on the way home, though he’d find the task harder than he believed. I’d simply put him into the saniarum , where Marcianus tended to the wounded gladiators. Regulus’s injuries might take him out of the games altogether.

What concerned me more was that Aemil had gone thoughtful, considering it.

“If Regulus kills me, Cassia will quadruple the fee,” I stated. “Then, if you refuse to pay her, she’ll take you to court.”

“She’s a slave,” Regulus scoffed. “She can’t.”

“But Marcianus could,” I said. “Marcianus likes Cassia and would aid her in whatever she wished.”

Marcianus was from the Equestrian class, with his own practice on the Aventine when he wasn’t sewing up Aemil’s gladiators, and he’d taken to Cassia. They shared many interests, and I’d often find them in our apartment, nattering in Greek over some scroll open on the table between them.

Marcianus might not interfere with Aemil’s plans for my sake, but he would for Cassia’s.

Aemil knew this too. He sighed heavily. “Yes, all right. Regulus, I can’t afford a court battle, so keep your sword sheathed.”

Regulus scowled but subsided.

“Two sestertii,” Aemil told me in resignation. “For you to stand in the arena and let people cheer for you. It’s robbery, but I agree. I’ll scratch out a contract, because I know your woman will want that too.”

“Disgusting how the great Leonidas lets a slave lead him around by the balls,” Regulus muttered.

“How is Laurentius?” I asked him in a mild tone.

I named an actor Regulus had taken a liking to, a cheerful young man whose position in society was little better than that of a slave. Actors were regarded as below even gladiators.

Regulus deepened his scowl and did not answer.

“The games begin in two days’ time,” Aemil said to me. “Be at the ludus in the first hour of the morning. You’ll get your payment after the parade.”

I knew that Cassia would prefer half the payment up front and half on completion, which was what she negotiated for bodyguard work, but I also knew I could push Aemil only so far.

I agreed to his terms, and he took his leave from me. Regulus sent me a belligerent look before he followed Aemil down the crowded street.

I’d have to be careful of Regulus, I decided as I watched them go. I couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t try to kill me at the games, whether Aemil agreed to it or not.

I studied Decimus’s shop for some time before I turned away and made for the Quirinal Hill and my apartment on its lower slope.