He had shown the Spaniard the sword he had received from the Caesar's own hand when he had been freed. But he had not told him about the young senator who had petitioned fiercely to get him his freedom at that time, when he had the fame and youth enough to train others. Oh, he'd never spoken with the man, had never heard directly that this senator had done so, but he knew. Whispers from those who knew, repeated from too many mouths to be dismissed.
Proximo knew two things as he gazed at the towering statue of Mars outside the colosseum again. He would never again leave Rome, one way or the other. And that no matter the years that had passed, he would look for Gracchus in the stands. He was curious to see how time had tempered that flame.