Beast of Caledonia (10 page)

“Do you really not know?” Rolf’s mouth dropped open when
Annachie shook his head. “When a Vestal Virgin breaks her vow of chastity, and
what better proof is there, eh?” Rolf leered and wiggled his eyebrows.

A quick pain shot through Annachie’s gut. “What happens to
her?” Annachie advanced on him until he backed Rolf against the wall. “
Tell
me.”
Why was Rolf drawing this out?

Annachie saw the confused look on his friend’s face. “Why,
they…they bury her alive.”

A chill ran down Annachie’s spine. No, he told himself, it
wasn’t Sara, it must have been one of the other priestesses. Still, he had to
make sure. “What was the girl’s name?”

“Annachie, brother, you look pale. You don’t mean…she isn’t
the one you have been seeing all these months, is she?”

“
What is her name?
” Annachie cried, as he grabbed
Rolf by his tunic, pulling the man to him until he was snarling in the big
German’s face.

Rolf’s eyes widened and he tried to pull away. “Sara. They
called her Sara.”

Annachie’s knees gave out and he fell to the ground.
Oh,
gods, what have I done?
I have killed her. By loving her, I have killed
her.
His next thought was,
Sara, Sara, why did you not tell me?
He
wanted to believe that had he known, he never would have made love to her. But
he would have. After all the years of longing for her, he had to have her, but
he would have taken precautions from the outset. He never would have risked
getting her with child if it meant so terrible a punishment.

“By all the gods, Annachie, I didn’t know.” Rolf knelt next
to him and put his hand on Annachie’s arm. “Listen to me. She is given food and
water, or so I hear, and a lamp and oil for light. Her death will be gradual
and easy. She might even still be alive, especially if she blew out the lamp to
give herself more air.”

“She wouldn’t,” Annachie said, still in a daze. “She is
afraid of the dark.” Suddenly, his mind grasped onto something else Rolf had
said. “She might still be alive? How can we get her out?”

Rolf shook his head. “We cannot. The grave is near the
Colline Gate, which is always guarded. And besides, how do
we
get out of
here
?”

A small voice spoke from behind Annachie. “I have the keys.”

Annachie turned to see Micah standing there, holding up a
large iron ring full of keys.

He turned to his fellow gladiator. “Rolf, will you help me?”

“If I can, but the hole is covered with a thick concrete
slab. I heard it took four soldiers to slide it over. How could the two of us
move it off?”

“I do not know, but we will find a way.”

Micah opened the lock and the two gladiators slipped out.

“Hey, what about me?”

Annachie turned to source of the whisper. Cephus, a
gladiator captured during a war in Gaul, waved at him through the bars of his
cell. “I heard what you said. I can help you get her out.”

Annachie looked at Rolf, who shrugged and nodded. “We
probably could use more muscle for that slab.”

Annachie still hesitated. He had always disliked Cephus,
especially after he made the remark about Annachie “getting it up” only for
Septimius. And he wasn’t quite sure he could trust Cephus; the man had always
struck him as cowardly in the arena. But they could use his help, and for that,
he would put aside his desire to kill Cephus for his lewd remark. “All right,”
Annachie said, “let him out, Micah.”

They slipped silently out of the compound, and made their
way cautiously through the streets, hiding in doorways and behind walls to
avoid being seen. Rolf led the way to the gates of the city. They hid in the
bushes beside the Colline gate, watching the two guards walk back and forth,
until they had figured out the pattern. At a signal from Annachie, he and Rolf
stepped out and grasped the guards from behind, choking off their breath and
twisting their necks until they fell in a heap on the ground. Rolf grabbed the
guards’ keys and opened the gate, then the four of them slipped through.

Off to the right, about fifty feet away, was the grave.
Annachie stood for a moment, looking down, overcome by the idea of what Sara
must be feeling down there—if she was still capable of feeling.

The cover of the hole was almost flush with the ground,
rising only a few inches on each of the four sides. “We cannot lift it,”
Annachie said, “but perhaps we can push it off.”

Rolf nodded.

“What do you think, Cephus?” Annachie turned to get the
Gallic man’s opinion…only to see him running off into the bushes on the other
side of the road.

“Damn you,” Rolf cried as he started to run after the man.

“Let him go, brother,” Annachie said. His heart felt like a
lead weight in his chest. He too wanted to catch Cephus and beat him to within
an inch of his life, but he knew that would waste valuable time. He had no idea
how much time Sara had left…if any.

He and Rolf knelt in the dirt by the grave. They began to
push, but could get no leverage. “It’s no use,” Rolf said. “We need a bar to
put under it and get it shifted a bit to the side.” Annachie continued to push
by himself. “Stop, man, you’ll kill yourself and be no use to her if…when we
get her out.”

Annachie knew Rolf had started to say, “If we get her out.”
It was in the back of his mind too but he refused to give in to his doubts.

“Will these help?”

The men turned to find Micah limping toward them, dragging
two iron bars. “Where on earth did you find those?” Rolf asked.

“Over there,” the boy said, pointing to an area next to the
wall. “They must have left them there after they…uh, buried her.”

“Thank your god for me, Micah. Come on,” Annachie said to
Rolf, “we must hurry.”

Together, the two of them braced one end of the bars in the
dirt under the roof of the tomb and began to lift. The cover gave slightly.
They glanced at each other in surprise and bent to the task with more vigor.
After a few more inches, Annachie was able to push his bar between the cement
slab and the edge of the hole. Rolf followed suit and before long, the cover
had moved enough that they could sit on the ground and, using the strength in
their legs, slide it back about a foot.

Through the crack they made, Annachie saw no light coming
from inside the tomb. “Micah, bring one of those torches over.”

The boy took a torch from beside the gate and handed it to
Annachie, who peered down into the hole as much as he could. “Sara!” he called,
but there was no response. It made him frantic to push harder and harder. He
handed the torch back to Micah. “Hold it for us, lad.”

The opening was still not wide enough for a person, even one
as slight as Sara if she were conscious, to fit through. “My end is pushed back
farther,” Annachie said. “Come around here. We can slide this end, rather than
try to push the whole top off.” Annachie sat on the ground again and pushed
against the slab with his feet.

Rolf nodded, wiping the sweat from his face. “Good idea.”

Together they worked on one end of the slab and soon the
opening was wide enough for Annachie to jump down into the hole. He was surprised
that it wasn’t deeper, but with the concrete cover and the guards, the Romans
must have felt safe that no one would be able to get her out.

“I can’t see her. Micah, hand me the torch.” Annachie took
the torch and laid it across the small table next to the cot, with the flame
hanging over the edge.

The light confirmed his worst fears. The lamp had burned out
and Sara lay on the small cot, not moving. When he drew closer, he did not see
her chest rising and falling with breaths. “Sara,” he called, then louder, “
Sara!”
He grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her gently. Still she did not move.

He heard Rolf speak from the ground above. “Sorry, brother,
it seems we are too late.”

Annachie lifted Sara in his arms and hugged her to his
chest. “No,” he murmured as tears began to pour down his face. “No, no, no, no.
Sara, wake up.” But she did not respond. Something about her hand caught his
eye. He lifted it and looked more closely. Dirt marked each crease in her
knuckles. Her nails were broken and in some spots, dried blood formed a dark
streak on her fingers. Her other hand showed the same signs of her struggle.
Annachie fought back a wave of nausea, trying to dispel the image of Sara,
horrified and desperate, attempting to claw her way out of this tomb.

He hugged her small, warm body more closely.
Warm!
Suddenly, through his distress, the realization came to him. He laid her back
down on the cot and lightly patted her cheeks. “Sara, wake up,” he said, louder
this time.

“Annachie, what are you doing?” Micah asked.

“She is not breathing but she is still warm. I must get her
to breathe. How do I get her to breathe?”

“Pinch her nose closed, take a deep breath, and exhale into
her mouth,” Micah said.

“What?” Rolf asked. “What are you talking about?”

“I have seen Galen, the physician, do it before. I have seen
him revive people who were not breathing. It works,” Micah replied, then dashed
Annachie’s hopes a bit when he added, “sometimes.”

Annachie prayed to every god he could think of—his own, the
Romans’, even Micah’s god—then did as the boy instructed. “It did not work,” he
said.

“Keep doing it,” Micah said, “it might take a few times. Do
not give up.”

No, Annachie thought, I will not give up.
I cannot lose
her now.
He tried again and again. He vowed to himself that he would keep
trying until he lost his own breath. But despite his efforts, Sara’s chest did
not move.

“It is not working,” Annachie said, fighting back more
tears. “What do I—” Suddenly, Sara gasped, then coughed and her eyes briefly
fluttered open. “
Sara!
Speak to me. Sara, wake up now.
Breathe.
You are going to be fine. We are going to get you out of here.” He knew he was
babbling, but he said anything he could think of to keep her awake.

“Annachie.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and sounded
hoarse. A chill ran through him. How long had she screamed before her voice, or
her will, gave out?

Her eyes closed again, but she continued to take deep
breaths and cough, and in a little while, she seemed to be breathing better.

“Come, we will get you out of here.” Annachie carried her
over to the opening and handed her up to Rolf. Then he brought the torch and
the little stool he found beside her cot, the one that held the empty lamp, to
the edge. He handed the torch to Micah and hoisted himself up out of the grave.
Rolf placed Sara gently in Annachie’s arms. In the light from the torch,
Annachie saw that her color had returned and her breathing was steady, if
rapid.

He looked up at Micah and Rolf. “Thank you, my friends.”

Rolf only nodded. Micah said, “We had best get out of here
before the change of guards. Come on, I know where we can hide.” He put the
torch back in its bracket on the gate. “We cannot risk the light drawing
attention to us.”

“Wait,” Rolf said, “we should push the cover back. Then they
won’t know she has escaped, and they will not look for her. Septimius and Bato
will still look for us, but the Romans won’t know you are with her.”

Annachie nodded. “True.” He laid Sara carefully on the
ground next to the wall. Then, he and Rolf sat down and used their feet to push
the cement slab back in place.

“Hurry,” said Micah. “The new guards will be here soon.”

He had no sooner finished speaking than Annachie heard
voices in the distance, coming down the road on the city side of the gate. The
cover of the tomb appeared to be back in place, so the two men stepped into the
shadow of the wall.

Annachie picked Sara up and balanced her in his arms. Rolf
put his hand on Annachie’s shoulder. “Goodbye, brother. Take good care of her.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Annachie asked.

“No, I am heading home, where I belong.” Rolf pointed to the
north. “Besides, Septimius will be looking for the three of us.” He glanced at
Sara. “It is better that we go our separate ways.”

Annachie nodded. “Best of luck to you, Rolf. I am glad we
never had to face each other in the arena.”

The Germanic warrior was already walking away, but his
whisper carried in the still night. “Hah, me too. I would have hated to be
forced to kill you, you pretty Pict.”

In seconds, Rolf too was swallowed up by the darkness, his
soft chuckle drifting back to Annachie on the night air. Annachie turned to
follow Micah. “Where are we going, lad?”

“The catacombs. We’ll be safe there for a few days, until
she regains her strength.”

Annachie stepped in front of Micah, forcing him to stop. “
What?
You’re taking her from one grave to another?”

“Trust me, Annachie. The catacombs have hidden my people for
decades.”

Annachie knew he still looked doubtful. Micah continued,
“When she is able to travel again, I will take you to my family in Castrum
Novum. You should be safe there until you are able to take ship for wherever it
is you decide to go.”

“You are sure that I am not putting her in danger again?”

“We are escaped slaves and she is a disgraced Vestal under
sentence of death. Where can we go that we will not be in danger?”

Chapter Nine

Was it a series of dreams or one long, terrible one? Sara
hoped
she was dreaming. Jeering crowds pelted her with refuse and screamed foul names
at her. Horrible beasts charged at her from the darkness. And when she opened
her eyes, she saw bones—skulls tucked in alcoves, feet and hands littering the
dirt floor…

Then she remembered. They had buried her alive and now she
was dead. She felt the heat from a lamp next to her head and marveled that the
oil still lasted.