“I knew you weren’t no gardener,” the boy crowed.

Arius let out a long breath. The cool autumn breeze had been raising gooseflesh on his arms all day, but now he felt warm. His body was never cold when it expected a fight.

“When gardeners get scared they drop their shovels and swear. They don’t go pulling knives and charging.” The boy crossed his arms over his chest, looking Arius up and down. “Barbarian.”

Arius grabbed for him. The boy skipped back out of reach, grinning.

“I know you, boy.” Of course there were dozens of slave children running over Lady Flavia’s spacious villa, but this boy looked familiar. “You spar with Lady Flavia’s sons.”

“I know you, too. Saw you once in the Colosseum. Your last fight.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Arius bent and picked up his knife. “I’m Stephanus. One of the vineyard gardeners.”

“I saw the Barbarian—”

“You’re imagining things.” Arius cursed his luck. He’d been so careful, keeping to himself behind the vineyard, hardly coming to the house at all except to make the occasional report to Lady Flavia. The other slaves of her household hardly saw him enough to know him as a gardener, let alone a gladiator. And now this boy who had barely seen him in either identity had recognized him.

“You got a three-legged dog, just like the Barbarian,” the boy persisted. “And you got a scar on your arm, right where he had his gladiator tattoo—”

“Lots of people burn themselves. Lots of people have dogs, too.”

“Hey, I know how the Barbarian moves! I saw him! Maybe I didn’t recognize you at first ’cause of the beard, but I knew the first time I saw you that you didn’t move like any goddamn gardener.” The boy’s eyes devoured him.

“Scram.” Arius sheathed his knife and stalked back to the water trough.

The boy dogged at his heels. “Teach me.”

“What?”

“Teach me! I want to be a gladiator.”

Arius looked at him. “What kind of moron wants to be a gladiator?”

“I do.”

“Go away.”

“C’mon, you’ve got to teach me! I get lessons from the guards that teach Lady Flavia’s kids, but they’re all dozers. Been a year since I learned anything new.”

“I said scram.”

The boy lunged and took Arius around the knees. Arius hit the ground rolling, but the boy grabbed his wrist and tried his best at an arm lock. “Teach me,” he panted.

Arius heaved a shoulder and sent the boy flying. In another second he had a knee on the boy’s chest and a hand around his throat. The young ribs bent under his weight, but small hard fists plugged at his solar plexus. Arius twisted away and cut off the boy’s air. The young face turned purple under its sunburn, but the boy didn’t beg.

Abruptly Arius loosed his hold and sat back.

The boy sat up. “Got inside your guard, didn’t I?” he wheezed. Arius rose. “Come back tomorrow.”