The woman they sent to his quarters was unusual in that her face was wet with tears. Carl came close to hammering on the by now locked door and insisting on a replacement, but he was intrigued. No other female had ever presented as reluctant, and especially not after a victory. She must be new.“Sit,” he ordered, simply, as he unwound the bindings around his trousers.Some fighters preferred leather as it made a statement; he let his prowess do the talking.“Where?” she asked.He looked up in surprise. It was a strange question given that there was little other than a bed in the small room. Carl patted the opposite side to where he was perched and she moved forward reluctantly. She reminded him of a deer prepared to bolt at any moment.“What’s your name?”“My real one, or the one they told me to use?”His head snapped up, concentration suspended for the time being.“Whichever you prefer to disclose.”“Ginny,” she said, perching herself on the mattress. She held herself stiffly, as if

The practice sessions were endless. All the maidens were required to attend, some even wearing a favour bestowed by their gladiator. Eithne fumed and it wasn’t because she had missed out on that, being branded a harlot by her own mother. That was a jousting tradition, though her own knight was long gone.Because Clara was absent, probably receiving yet another massage in the royal chambers, she made it her business to speak to each of the girls. It wouldn’t harm to let them know the latest and hopefully receive their take on each combatant.Not wanting to single out the other high-born ones, and since she knew and trusted Flavius – Jocasta’s words of caution causing her to doubt suddenly – Eithne started with Hermione. If Marcus were to emerge victorious, they needed a plan in case he reneged on his vow.The miller’s daughter was plump and rather nervous, twisting her hands endlessly until she reached out to stop her.“I’m on your side. Truly,” she said. “How was he when you had that

The sun was high in the sky when they began the entertainment in front of the royal court. In some ways Eithne was glad the girls weren’t permitted to watch, though news filtered through after each one-to-one battle. Marcus was yet to fight, and it was heartening to hear that Flavius had bested his opponent, Hadrian. Not that she had anything against the veritable giant. It spared Ava further indignity and no doubt she would regard it as a blessing. Unless she were still smarting about what Finn had done. It seemed to Eithne she’d had feelings for him. Had he done right by her? Only time would tell. And if he came looking for her in the future, would that be such a bad thing? She felt she was helping her subjects – some of them, anyway, given that Isabel hailed from the north and Ava from across the water – and tried to take pride in that. Brutus was up next, she understood, facing Nero. From what she had been told there was only one winner unless the latter threw the contest to spa

The door was capable of being bolted as well as locked with a key. Had it once doubled as a dungeon? The gladiator made it clear to Hermione and Eithne that he was in charge, setting them the task of securing it. They’d been made to wait while he used the bathhouse. The female attendant was obviously to his liking given the moans which didn’t all come from her. She giggled as she passed them, putting a finger to her lips, and Eithne saw more than she would have liked of the woman’s ample chest which was just about spilling over her tight bodice. Feeling insulted yet relieved, she hugged the miller’s daughter. “We’ll come through this,” she said, casting her mind back to earlier and the strange behaviour of Flavius. When he saw them in the passage he started to grin and even winked. She couldn’t begin to understand why. Marcus emerged a short while later looking refreshed and un-gladiator like in his Ormondian shirt and puffed breeches. Who did he think he was, Clara’s new favourit

The weathervane was unreliable at best, just like Ephron. Eithne couldn’t understand how someone could change so much and for the worse. The wind was coming from the north today and she drew her shawl more closely about her, regretting the fact that she had been forced to steal it. Marcus was in trouble, also. The incriminating piece of paper had been laid before Clara by none other than Megan. A week had passed since the night of her shame, which had seemed so much more sordid than what happened with Xander. Strangely, she didn’t blame the disgraced gladiator, no longer regarding him as a strutting cockerel, like the one atop the spinning weathervane. In her opinion, they should have removed it in favour of a witch on a broomstick. She shuddered. To her astonishment, Marcus had come to her rescue in a way, stating from the outset that he wouldn’t be able to perform with watchers. That hadn’t gone down well, unfortunately, so he’d proceeded to demonstrate his inadequacy. That must h