Champion in Love (bxb)

CHAPTER 12. The Named Man

While Victor and I bathed, clouds crawled down from the Appian Peaks to spit corn snow over Fidelium. The merchants lowered their awnings, children squeezed into corners, and donkeys flipped their ears in annoyance.

I pulled the cloak tighter to save some of the heat I'd soaked up in the bathhouse. The snow was more difficult to ignore, as the kernels pelted my cheeks. I lengthened my strides, hoping to get out of the weather and anxious about the summons.

Victor didn't spare the frowning sky a single glance. Instead, the gaze of his blue eyes wandered from the cobblestones to the back of Quintus' head, then to the cobblestones, then to the back of Quintus' head and so on, as if willing our wing-footed messenger to speak.

If Quintus felt the negative attention, he didn't show it, or he was too out of breath with the efforts required to stay ahead of me.

"What's happening?" Victor asked.

Quintus maintained his hopping gait and remained mum, an unheard-of phenomenon.

I envied Victor his ignorance, because Quintus's tight-lipped rush tipped me off about the identity of the VIP. If I was right, I wasn't looking forward to this meeting. She was incredibly patient for a woman, but she made you pay for it, so I pressed on even harder, crossing half-Fidelium at a trot.

When we piled into Rufius Fulgentius' office, I was panting from both the exertion and nerves. I rarely cast a shadow over my boss' sanctuary, but he kept it neat. The furniture consisted of the same giant writing desk, three-legged brazier, two round stools and one comfortable chair as on my first day. The floor was swept, scrolls stuffed into their honey-comb stands and a metal-bound chest stood discreetly in one corner.

Nothing changed since my visit except for the graffiti on the white-washed wall. These changed with ebbs and flows of arena's luck. Messages, propositions, offers to the gladiators... this wall had seen it all.

This was where I spotted the first-ever drawing of my penis by a hard-core fan and the sum she offered for its services. It had been in the right corner, scribbled in bold strokes of the charcoal sticks Rufius Fulgentius always had on hand for that purpose. If a customer wished to be more discreet, they could use a wax tablet stacked on a tiny side-table for private letters.

I wouldn't call our visitor shy, but she turned her back on the wall with its lurid images. A modest stole covered her piled-up braids. Her cloak was equally modest, if of the finest wool. All gold was removed from her person except for the half-moons in her ears and the natural shine of her hair. Emeralds in the center of each earring set off her eyes.

I was right about her identity. "Ave, Messalina Augusta!"

Kneeling in front of the Empress gave me a moment to collect my scattering thoughts. I had always suspected that she would forgive me and visit, eventually. What surprised me was that she picked today to do so.

As happy as I was about Laurentius' quad's performance, this wasn't the best they had ever done, and the real fighting didn't start until the Sacred Night of the Behemoths.

Why, why did Messalina Augusta choose to show up today, after spurning me for years?

Alas, a guy like me doesn't get to ask Empresses what brings them to his humble abode. His boss' humble abode. So, I waited on my knees for Messalina Augusta to enlighten me. Behind my back, Quintus did the same. I didn't actually have the eyes in the back of my head as some of my students complained, but I could sense motion or the absence of thereof. Victor remained standing.

Despite appearing in disguise, Messalina Augusta didn't tolerate this breach of the etiquette. Her green gaze stopped on Rufius Fulgentius, the obvious culprit where behavior of his slaves was concerned.