He’d come to save her.
Caros pulled Pelonia into his arms. “Are you all right?” She buried her cheek against his chest.
He held her while she shivered and trembled. For timeless moments, he rubbed her back until the tremors subsided.
Caros cupped her face and tipped her head back to search for injuries. He ran the pad of his thumb over the shallow cut on her throat. Thankfully, the wound no longer bled. The image of a blade held so close to her jugular would never leave him.
He angled the torch for a better view of her ashen face. “It’s over now. They won’t find us. Can you walk or shall I carry you home?”
“Home?” Her eyes filled with fat tears. “I have no home.”
Caros tugged her against him again, holding her close while she sobbed. A promise to free her and help find her family sprang to the tip of his tongue.
No. His arms tightened around her. She was his. He couldn’t let her go….
CARLA CAPSHAW
Florida native Carla Capshaw is a preacher’s kid who grew up grateful for her Christian home and loving family. Always dreaming of being a writer and world traveler, she followed her wanderlust around the globe, including a year spent in the People’s Republic of China, before beginning work on her first novel.
A two-time RWA Golden Heart Award winner, Carla loves passionate stories with compelling, nearly impossible conflicts. She’s found Inspirational Historical Romance is the perfect vehicle to combine lush settings, vivid characters and a Christian worldview. Currently at work on her next manuscript for Steeple Hill Love Inspired Historical, she still lives in Florida, but is always planning her next trip…and plotting her next story.
Carla loves to hear from readers. To contact her, visit www.carlacapshaw.com, or write to [email protected].
Carla Capshaw
The Gladiator
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called
according to His purpose.
—Romans 8:28
Dedicated to:
My son, Deverell—my best blessing.
My parents, for their constant love and
encouragement.
My sister, Nikki. A talented, savvy woman-of-all-
trades. You’re the best friend a girl could have.
My critique partners, Sheila Raye,
Paisley Kirkpatrick, Stacey Kayne and Jean Mason.
What would I do without you? Thank you for
not only reading my stuff, but for being amazing
friends who also happen to be awesome writers.
My agent, Michelle Grajkowski of Three Seas
Literary, for believing in me even when I insisted
on writing “unpopular” time periods.
My editor, Melissa Endlich, for taking a chance on
a new author. Your patience with this newbie won’t
be forgotten.
And last, but most, thank you, Lord. You never fail
me. Your inspiration is endless.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
Less than a day’s journey from Rome, 81 AD
“Look around you, Niece. The gods are punishing you.”
Pelonia raised tear-swollen eyes from her beloved father’s lifeless face. From where she sat on the ground, her uncle Marcus towered over her, his mouth twisted in a snarl of contempt. Blood oozed from a gash at his temple.
Dazed by his cruel words, she watched him limp toward the torched wagons and pillaged tents of their once wealthy camp. Black smoke stretched toward the heavens. Its sharp stench singed her nostrils, burning her lungs until the fetid air promised to choke her.
Her father’s head in her lap, Pelonia stroked his weathered cheek with trembling fingers. Was Uncle Marcus right? Was she being punished? Had her father been wrong to reject the old ways and teach his household to embrace the Christ?
Everywhere she looked, destruction sweltered in the morning’s rising heat. All of her family’s accompanying servants lay massacred along both sides of the stone-paved road. Only she and Marcus survived.
Pelonia looked toward the cloudless sky. Birds of prey circled overhead. Their hungry cries echoed in the stillness, mocking her as though they sensed she would join the corpses before she had time to bury them.
On the horizon, a cloud of dust marked the direction of their attackers’ retreat. The marauders had struck before first light. She’d heard their battle cry from downstream where she’d sneaked away to bathe in private. By the time she ran back to camp, they’d taken flight. The demon’s spawn had stolen everything of value—animals, spices meant as a gift for her cousin’s wedding in Rome, and chests packed with rare purple cloth.
Worst of all, they’d murdered her father.
A wail of anguish rose in her throat, but she bit her lip to keep from surrendering to her grief. Her father would want her to be strong. She couldn’t bear to disappoint him. Instead, she bent over his precious body and buried her face in his tunic, begging her Lord to restore his life, just as He had once done for Lazarus.
Long moments passed. No miracle came from heaven, only silence.
She sat up and brushed the graying hair from his brow. Bowing her head, she rocked gently, clinging to her composure when pain threatened her sanity.
God,