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“I must go,” she said. “You did not see me here. Tell your majordomo the same. Ambrose must not know I was here, Hugh.”

Hugh opened the door for her. It was a straight path out to her waiting carriage.

“Not a word, Agnes,” he promised. “I’ll take it tae my grave.”

Agnes wished he’d used a different choice of words. As she scurried out to her waiting escort, she found herself repeating his words in her head.

I’ll take it tae my grave.

She hoped the grave it was taken to wouldn’t be her own if Ambrose discovered what she’d done.

CHAPTER TEN

He traveled like a Roman Caesar.

Clegg de Lave, from an excellent Norman family based in Cornwall, hadn’t seen Cornwall since he was a lad. He’d always had big dreams and big ambitions, ambitions that had taken him all over the known world. He’d had more experiences, adventures, and incidents than most men would have in two lifetimes, but for Clegg, he had a bigger than life persona and savored everything it had to offer. He learned all he could, studied all he could, tasted all he could.

The culmination of that experience was a series of fight guilds in the south of Scotland.

The Ludus Caledonia…

The Ludus Antonine…

The Ludus Hadrian…

The Ludus Trimontium…

And the latest one, the Ludus Valentia.

Clegg had just come from overseeing the final construction of an amphitheater that was enormous and sleek, built to accommodate five hundred patrons. The Ludus Valentia was in Dumfries, in the hills to the southwest in a naturally bowled-out area that used to be a lake, once. But Clegg drained the lake and built his complex, something he’d been working on for more than a year. Given the close proximity of the location to everything south of Glasgow and most of the Lowlands, he already had men clamoring to attend the games that would not take place for several more months.

But that was the nature of Clegg’s business – supply and demand.

He fully intended to supply.

He traveled in a caravan that looked like something out of the spice trade on the rolling sands of Morocco – lavish dressings for the horses, gaily painted carriages, soldiers with lush tunics, and more. That was the nature of Clegg’s flamboyance.

As his escort headed up the road towards his home of Caelian Hill, he was glad to be back at his primus venue. From inside his comfortable carriage, he watched the pre-dawn landscape around him, thinking back to the days when he had first come to this mountain to establish his first venue. It seemed like so long ago.

He’d built much in his lifetime.

Behind his carriage, there was a second carriage full of men. He had brought two new top warriors with him and six novicius, new men to try out at his largest venue. As the caravan drew closer to the top of the hill, they were greeted by men riding out from the Ludus Caledonia.

Axel was the first one to come alongside Clegg’s carriage.

“My lord,” he greeted Clegg. “Welcome home.”

Clegg flashed his big, white teeth at his manager. “Axel,” he said with satisfaction. “It is good to see you again. I have been away too long, I fear. I have missed my home.”

Axel smiled in return to a man he was genuinely fond of. “Your home has missed you, but all has been well,” he said. “It has been prosperous while you have been away.”

That brought interest from Clegg. “Is that so?” he said. “I am pleased, then. I look forward to going over the accounting with you.”

“Aye, my lord.”

Clegg threw a thumb in the direction of the wagon behind him. “I have brought you more men,” he said. “I journeyed to Hades to make sure all is as it should be and to collect the revenue. We must dismiss the manager, for I fear he is keeping some of the winnings himself.”

He was speaking of the Ludus Hadrian in Carlisle, known as “Hades”, and nearly as successful as the Ludus Caledonia. Axel looked at him in surprise.