The Left Hand of Calvus by LA Witt

Author:LA Witt
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Riptide Publishing
Published: 2012-11-03T00:00:00+00:00

Verina and Kaeso return to the ludus a few days after the conclusion of the games. As soon as the gates are open, the boy yanks his hand away from his grandmother and sprints from the litter into the training yard. Verina shakes her head and laughs, following him into the ludus.

The men show off their wounds from the arena to Kaeso, who inspects every bruise and suture with all the wide-eyed fascination a young boy can muster. He laughs at outlandish tales of minor scratches being the work of wild leopards and bruises coming from hand-to-hand combat with men twice their size.

“You don’t believe me?” Hasdrubal scoffs, feigning offense. “Here, lad, let me show you how he got me.” He hands Kaeso a wooden sword and a small, round shield, and then leads the boy into one of the sparring circles.

“Keep your guard up, lad.” He grins at the boy and taps his shield with another wooden sword. “Protect yourself. Arms, legs, everything.”

Verina smiles as she watches Kaeso playfully spar with the men, and I surreptitiously watch her. She’s never betrayed any emotion here in the ludus, but Calvus insists there’s a man who has her affections. Gods help her if it’s true; gods help me if it isn’t.

Then she turns her head, and her expression changes. She sees someone I cannot, someone just outside my line of sight. It’s clear because the moment she looks, her smile wilts and her eyes fill with pure, painful longing.

My heart beats faster. So Calvus was right. There is a man here at the ludus who’s drawn her away from her husband.

Careful not to bring attention to myself, I let my gaze slide in the direction the woman is looking, searching for the object of her attention.

He steps out from behind the wall that had blocked him from me and not Verina, and in an instant, my blood turns cold.

Drusus.

Drusus is the one?

No, maybe it’s one of the bodyguards. Perhaps Verina is involved with one of them.

But then Drusus stops. His lips pull into a thin line.

He isn’t looking at her, though. He watches Hasdrubal and the boy. Once, his eyes dart toward Verina, and perhaps I’ve spent too much time cataloging every nuance of Drusus’s face and expressions, but even from twenty paces, the pain in his eyes is palpable. I swear I can see the ache beneath his ever-present leather armor.

Abruptly, Drusus gestures at his bodyguards, and as one, the three of them turn and go back the way they came.

As soon as they’re gone, Verina purses her lips and releases a breath before she turns her attention back to her grandson.

Oh gods . . .

I pull my own attention away and go to the water trough to moisten my suddenly dry mouth. I cannot be sure until I’ve seen something more than a couple of exchanged glances. If I breathe a single word of suspicion to Calvus, Drusus will be killed, and if I hint to Drusus that I have any reason to care that he’s involved with Verina, then it’s my throat on the line.

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