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“Christos,” he shouted across the hall. “Christos Keith! Attend me!”

At the far end of the hall, a mountain of a man stood up and headed in their direction. Christos Keith was not new to the Ludus Caledonia, but he hadn’t fought there in quite some time. Like Titus, he was a professional fighter, having been in the fight guild system for several years. He and Titus were old friends. They’d fought with, and against, each other.

Christos was one of the most formidable men at the fight guild, purely from his size. His father was Scots but his mother was from Constantinople, and Christos had the dark eyes and hair from the land of the Turks and a fluid, almost poetic, manner about him, but his temper and size were purely Scots. When Titus saw the man heading over, the smirk vanished from his face.

“Dunna give it tae him, Brody,” he said seriously. “A joke is a joke, but Christos will rip yer arms from their sockets if he’s angry enough.”

Brody wasn’t intimidated. “I’ll tell him the wine is from ye.”

“But ye’re the one giving it tae him. Do ye want tae take that chance?”

He had a point. Brody had a wife and child he would very much like to see grow up. With a sigh of resignation, he set the wine down and purposely tipped it over.

“Och,” he said as Christos drew near. “I was going tae offer ye a drink, but it looks like I’ve been clumsy. Sit with us, man. I’ll send for more food and drink.”

Galan picked that moment to bolt up from the bench and make his way from the hall, hunched over as he walked. Everyone, including Christos, watched him go.

“What is wrong with him?” Christos asked in his deep baritone.

Titus started chuckling. “Wine with a purge in it,” he said. Then, he pointed to the spilled wine. “Brody has been giving it tae everyone. Now he wanted tae give it tae ye.”

Christos looked at Brody accusingly, whose eyes widened at the fact that he had been implicated as the culprit in Titus’ vile scheme. He sighed heavily.

“Titus,” he said deliberately. “Tell the man ye’re only jesting. I want tae see my child live tae be a man, and if Christos thinks I’m going around poisoning people, that may not happen.”

Titus was still laughing, but he waved Christos off. “’Tis true,” he said. “I lied. ’Tis what we do around here – play very bad jokes on one another. But I can tell ye that I would die for every man at this table because they are honorable and worthy. Playing tricks on each other is how we show our love and devotion.”

A smile tugged at Christos’s lips. “Ye always were a twisted lad, Titus.”

“Some things never change.”

Christos’s grin bloomed as he sat down and Brody, convinced Christos wouldn’t try to throttle him, sat down next to him. They made Titus give up the wine he’d been giving everyone, however, as he’d kept it tucked under his legs beneath the table. It was Axel, the Ludus Caledonia’s manager, who finally took the pitcher from him and tossed the contents out the door.

Once the wine was disposed of, it was forgotten, and they were back to laughing and jesting with one another, wondering how Galan and Wendell were faring. Both men had run into the privy and had yet to come out.

The apothecary’s purge was true to his word.

The meal that night was a stew with beef and lamb in it, rich with root vegetables. Men who fought as viciously as these men did required good food, and the food at the Ludus Caledonia was the best. In addition to the stew, there were copious amounts of bread and butter, stewed fruit, and a baked egg dish called a daryols. It was full of cheese and herbs, and was quite delicious.

Titus was deep into his daryols when a sentry came through the entry. The sentries at the Ludus Caledonia were all highly trained men, mostly mercenaries, and they were extremely well paid. This man was the commander of the night watch. When he spied Titus, he headed in his direction.

“M’lord,” he said. “We’ve captured a trespasser. She has asked for ye.”

Titus’ mouth was full as he looked at the man. “She?” he repeated. He chewed a couple of times before swallowing what was in his mouth. “Who is it?”

The sentry shook his head. “She refuses tae give us her name.”

The other men at the table were listening. “It is probably one of yer past conquests,” Brody muttered. “She’s come back for more.”

Titus cocked a dark eyebrow. “And why shouldna she?” he said. “Once a woman has a taste of me, I ruin all other men for them.”

The men snorted as Titus returned his attention to the sentry. “No name?” he said. “Then I’m not interested.”

The sentry grinned. “Ye should be,” he said. “She’s beautiful. She fought like a banshee when we captured her and screamed at us in a language not English or Gaelic. One of my men said it was Spanish.”

A Spanish banshee…

Somewhere in the back of Titus’ mind, the flame of recognition sparked. The first and only Spaniard who screamed like a banshee that he knew of was the very one he’d seen earlier in the day. Literally, the only one. He’d not seen the woman in over seven years and he never expected to see her again.