"Reward flows without cease for the new champion of Capua."
Oenomaus turned quickly, his small, concentrated frown turning to a smile as he saw Melitta, bearing a large jar, leaning against the door of his new quarters across the yard from the ludus. Her arrival had gone unnoticed, intent as he had been on reconstructing the shrine to the gods, and he wondered now how long she had been there watching him, unadvertised until a shadow crossed the wall to notify him of her presence.
"Tis but a private chamber," he protested, beckoning her in. "A welcome prize, but hardly without cease. Then again, your presence I can always count as the highest of honors."
Melitta laughed lightly, and his heart swelled with it. "A gift from Domina," she said, raising the jar of wine. "And a small token I was bid give you by your doting protégé." They shared a grin at Gannicus' expense as she set down the wine and passed him a small bundle wrapped in rough cloth. Oenomaus received it from her quickly and obscured it from view, praying she would not make inquiries. As always, Melitta failed to disappoint.
"Will you join me for a cup? The best wine demands the best company."
"You flatter. Yet I do not wish to disturb you from prayer."
"I was merely reestablishing the sanctum."
"I am glad of it," she said, her eyes coming to rest on the figurine of Lugubus Arquienobus, god at Orense. "Will I still be permitted to worship with you, do you think, now that you reside away from prying eyes?"
Melitta had arrived at the ludus with nothing but the dress she wore and a small satchel of figurines, the gods of her people. Oenomaus had liked the girl immediately, observing from a distance the natural way she drew the young girls of the villa to her, Diona and Naevia and Samara all clamoring for her attentions. Yet he did not speak to her until nearly a year had passed. Fortune had smiled upon Oenomaus the day he encountered the small green satchel abandoned in the ludus yard, and Melitta had nearly cried of happiness when he returned them to her.
"I know of a place," he had offered tentatively, a powerful, young gladiator turned to a nervous stripling in the presence of a beautiful fifteen year-old, "a temple of sorts. I would not have you lose your deities once more."
A look of worry had crossed her face as she asked, "Your gods, will they not be angered?"
"I do not believe so," he had replied, for he could not imagine wrath in response to Melitta's comfort.
And so their gods were acquainted, and he discovered quickly in the days that followed that the gentle girl he had watched from afar possessed a keen wit and the regal calm of a goddess. In her he found a confidante, the fiercest of friends, and as the years carried on and he drew closer to the primus, each victory in the arena became a dedication to the glorious shadow ever-present behind Quintus' wife. Not that Oenomaus would ever have spoken such aloud before today, and yet the time had come.
"I had words with Dominus this morning."
"Oh?"
Heart racing, he took her hand and gently led her to sit by him. Melitta's deep brown eyes searched his over a cup of wine as he cast about for words. Finally, he said, "He would reward me with choice of wife."
Before another word could be spoken, Oenomaus retrieved the small package that had, at his friend's own insistence, arrived by Gannicus' means. He allowed the rough cloth to fall open, revealing within a small, brass earring - to her people the mark of a married woman, Melitta had once confided.
A small gasp escaped her. "You would have me?" she asked quietly.
"No," he replied. "I would be yours, if you would have me."