Read Online As Sure as the Dawn by Francine Rivers - Free Book Online Page B

and stood on the marble walk against the wall, watching him in admiration. He was the embodiment of power and masculine grace. No wonder women cried out for him. Atretes came up out of the pool at the other end with a single fluid movement of strength, water cascading from his magnificent body. Sertes was proud of him. “They still call your name, you know.”
    Atretes took a towel and wrapped it around his waist. “My fighting days are over.”
    Sertes smiled slightly, a tinge of mockery entering his black eyes. “No offer of wine for a friend?”
    “Lagos,” Atretes said and gestured. Lagos poured wine into a silver goblet and brought it to Sertes.
    He lifted the goblet in a toast. “To your return to the arena,” he said and drank, undisturbed by the tight-lipped glance Atretes cast him. He lowered the goblet. “I’ve come with an offer.”
    “Save it.”
    “Hear me out.”
    “Save it!”
    Sertes swirled the wine. “Afraid you might change your mind?”
    “Nothing could induce me to fight in the arena again.”
    “Nothing? You challenge the very gods, Atretes. That’s never wise. Don’t forget it was Artemis who called you to Ephesus.”
    Atretes gave a cynical laugh. “You paid Vespasian’s price. That’s what brought me here.”
    Sertes was affronted, but thought better than to remark on such blasphemy. “You will welcome the news that Vespasian is dead.”
    Atretes glanced at him. “Murdered, I hope.” He snapped his fingers. “Wine, Lagos. Fill the goblet to the brim. I feel like celebrating.”
    Sertes laughed softly. “You will be sorry to hear he died of natural causes. Not that there weren’t those, like you, who wished him ill, especially the old aristocracy who found themselves sharing the senate with provincials recruited from Espania. Vespasian’s father was rumored to be a Spanish tax collector, but then, who knows?”
    “Who cares?”
    “I imagine those in Espania. He did seem to favor them. He granted Latin rights to them as well as Roman citizenship to all the magistrates.” He laughed. “Something that hardly sat well with the old families who considered Vespasian a plebeian.” He raised his goblet again. “Despite his bloodlines, he was a great emperor.”
    “Great?” He muttered a foul word and spit on the marble tiles.
    “Yes, great. Perhaps the greatest since Julius Caesar. Despite his reputation for avarice, Vespasian’s tax reforms saved Rome from financial ruin. His philosophy was to first restore stability to the tottering state, then adorn it. He accomplished much of that. The Forum and Temple of Peace stand in Rome as tribute to his efforts. A pity he was not able to finish the colossal arena he began building on the foundations of Nero’s Golden House.”
    “Yes, what a pity,” Atretes said sarcastically.
    “Oh, I know you hated him. With good reason. After all, wasn’t it his cousin that crushed the rebellion in Germania?”
    Atretes cast him a dark look. “The rebellion lives.”
    “No longer, Atretes. You’ve been away from your homeland a long, long time. Vespasian annexed Agri Decumates in Southern Germania and cut off the reentrant angle formed by the Rhine at Basel. Germans are too fragmented to be of any threat to Rome now. Vespasian was a military genius.” He could see Atretes did not like hearing plaudits for his nemesis. It fanned the hatred within him. Exactly what Sertes wanted. Keep the fire hot.
    “You will remember his younger son, Domitian.”
    Atretes remembered all too well.
    “I believe he arranged your last match in Rome,” Sertes said casually, driving the knife in deeper. “His older brother, Titus, is now emperor.”
    Atretes downed the rest of his wine.
    “His military career is as illustrious as his father’s,” Sertes said. “It was Titus who crushed the rebellion in Judea and destroyed Jerusalem. Other than his unfortunate attachment to the Jewish princess Berenice, his career is flawless. Pax Romana at any price.