Beast of Caledonia (17 page)

It seemed as if hours passed before the boat finally ran
aground on the beach. The men must have seen her agitation for they both jumped
from the boat and ran to her.

“Rachel, what is it, what is wrong?” Jacob asked.

She looked at Annachie rather than at him. “Oh, Annachie,
they’ve taken her.”

Annachie felt a pain shoot through his gut. To come so close
to getting away, only to have it all destroyed in the space of one day. “Who
took her? Where did they go?”

“The soldiers, I suppose they are taking her back to Rome.
Oh, Annachie, I am so sorry. There was nothing I could do. She had gone to
fountain for me. I tried to stop her but she said she would be safe. I am so
sorry—” Her voice broke off with a sob.

“Shhh, Rachel, it is all right. You could not have stopped
them.” He turned to Jacob. “I need a horse.”

Jacob nodded. “I know of one. It is not a fast steed,
though.”

“As long as it can get me to Rome, it will still be faster
than walking.”

Jacob hurried to some friends and made arrangements for them
to sell his catch. Then the men ran back to the town, while Rachel followed as
quickly as she could. Jacob took Annachie to the house of a merchant who had a
carthorse. Jacob had been right—this horse would not win any races, but it
looked sturdy enough and strong enough to make the trip.

Annachie swung up onto the horse’s back. He reached down to
clasp Jacob’s hand. “Thank you, my friends. With the help of the all the gods,
we will both see you again. If not…”

“Your son will be safe with us,” said Jacob. “God go with
you, Annachie.”

* * * * *

The stake to which she was tied pressed into her back. Ropes
bit into her wrists and arms, and were wrapped so tightly across her chest she
could hardly breathe. That…and the fear.

The sun beat down on Sara’s head. She felt her face burning
and almost laughed.
I am worried about a burn from the sun when soon I will
be dead? How foolish.

But how, she wondered. Antoninus had warned her this would
not be an “easy” death, but what did he have planned as her execution?

Sara glanced around the huge arena. The Coliseum appeared
even larger from its floor than when she used to sit in the seats. The murmuring
of the crowd became louder as the time for the start of the spectacle drew
closer.
Well, they are certainly looking at me now.
The Romans never let
superstition interfere with a good show. Most of the crowd jeered at her and
many made obscene gestures. Several men lifted their tunics and waggled their
cocks at her. Once in a while, she could hear a rude comment or curse above the
general noise of the throng.
Bitch. Whore.

Sara closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath. It was
so unfair of them to call her such. She had only loved and made love to one man
in her life. That hardly qualified her to be a whore.

She glanced at the seats to her left. The emperor had her
staked out in the middle of the arena, so she knew all the Vestal Virgins had a
clear view of her punishment. As a warning, she supposed, of what could happen
to them if they ever did what she had done. She saw the little girl who took
her place. A beautiful child. I hope you never fall in love, Sara thought.

She followed the row of white gowns to the first seat. There
sat Mother Sylvia. The woman looked at her, then lowered her head. Sara knew
she had disappointed the Chief Vestal, and wondered if that woman had ever been
in love herself. She had, at times, seemed sympathetic to Sara’s plight. But
she had her job to do, and would not let her own feelings get in the way.

Suddenly, trumpets sounded. Sara suppressed a shudder as she
watched Antoninus stride in and take his seat in his box. She felt his gaze
burning into her, hotter than the sun scorching her from above. And behind
Antoninus, her father. She could not clearly see his expression. Was he glad to
be rid of this troublesome daughter? Or did the emperor require his attendance
to watch this final shame?

A guard walked toward her. He carried something in his right
hand that Sara could not identify, but she saw more ropes in his left hand. He
stopped right in front of her and reached up. He was much taller than she and
had no trouble reaching over her head. He tied something there, sneered at her
and squeezed both her nipples, hurting her. She felt two wet spots on her tunic
where her milk seeped from her engorged breasts and a vision of Drust sprang
into her mind. She had tried not to think of him through this ordeal; he was
lost to her and it only hurt more to know she would never see him again in this
lifetime.

The guard’s laugh brought her back to the moment. He turned
and walked back through the doorway from which he had come. It took Sara only a
few moments to catch the scent of the thing hanging above her.
Meat!

Now she knew what the emperor had planned for her.
Oh,
gods, help me. Please help me!

Antoninus gave a signal. Four gates around the arena opened
simultaneously. There was a brief moment when nothing happened; nothing or no one
came out of the tunnels.

Then she saw them.

Four huge tigers emerged and looked around. The noise of the
crowd frightened them for a moment and they cringed and crouched down. But when
the cheers died down some, they stood up and began to pace around the arena.

Sara knew the exact moment that they picked up the smell of
the meat. Almost as one, the tigers sniffed the air and their golden eyes
turned to her. With that, she knew she was dead, and this time there would be
no reprieve.

As the big cats stalked toward her, Sara’s only thought was,
strangely,
How beautiful they are.

* * * * *

Annachie rode all night to reach Rome. Not until he was
almost there did he wonder how he was going to find her. Was she taken to the
Vestals’ quarters, or to a prison? And if so, what prison? The only one he knew
was the gladiator compound that had been his own prison. He had never been out
of his cell or the arena long enough to become acquainted with the city. If he
stopped and asked someone about a captured Vestal who was supposed to be dead,
they might think he was insane.

By the time he got to Rome, he almost was insane from
wondering how to find her.

As it turned out, he need not have worried. As soon as he
entered the city, he saw the advertisements painted on the walls of almost
every public building he passed.

People of Rome

Today in the Flavian Amphitheater

The Vestal who escaped death by burial

will be the main attraction.

She will not escape death this time!

A cold chill ran through Annachie. When was that notice
painted? It had taken him all night and half a day of hard riding to get here.
Was he a day too late, or did the notice mean today?

He kicked the tired and lathered horse with his heels and
headed for the Coliseum.

He was still a good distance away when he heard the
trumpets. He knew from experience that they signaled the entrance of the
emperor into the theater. Then the roar of the spectators reached him and he
knew that today was the day Sara would be killed. Would there be more contests
before “the main attraction”? He prayed to the gods he was not too late.

He circled the arena until he found the one entrance he was
familiar with—the one the gladiators used when they went to their underground
cells. Only one guard was on duty at the tunnel. When he tried to stop him,
Annachie made quick work of him, knocking him unconscious with one blow.

He ran down the passageway, past the cages of wild animals
and the cells of criminals who, in addition to the gladiators, provided fodder
for the “games”. The roar of the crowd grew louder as he neared the ramp that
would take him into the arena. Gladiators sat on benches lining the walls
before the ramp. Annachie recognized several of them as opponents he had met in
battle. Some of them owed him their lives.

“What is happening?” he asked one of them.

The man nodded toward the incline. “It’s the little Vestal.
The emperor is making sure she doesn’t survive this time.”

Just then, Annachie heard a roar that raised the hairs on
his neck and made his bowels clench. He raced up the ramp, only to find his way
blocked by three guards who stood in front of the gate, watching the activity
in the arena.

“Get out of my way,” Annachie said, shoving one of the
guards aside.

“Where do you think you’re going?” another one asked as he
stepped in front of Annachie, pointing his spear at Annachie’s heart. The first
guard had recovered his footing and grabbed Annachie from behind. The other two
moved in back of him and held him at spear point. Annachie brought his elbow
back and into the gut of the first guard. The man reeled back and dropped to
the ground. Annachie knew he would feel the spears of the other soldiers very
soon, but he had to try.

Suddenly, those guards too seemed to lurch backward.
Annachie turned to see that the gladiators had each one in a headlock, and one
of them was pulling on the rope to raise the gate.

“Go, brother, save her if you can,” one of them said.

“Thank you, all of you,” Annachie said. He grabbed a spear
and sword from one of the soldiers and charged into the arena…only to see four
large tigers circling Sara, who was tied to a stake in the center of the field.

Above the roar of the tigers, Sara heard a human voice
yelling. Then she saw Annachie running toward her, a spear and a sword in his
hands. He drove the tigers away from her with shouts and jabs of the weapons.
The big cats roared and hissed at him, but backed away…at least for the moment.

He ran behind her and sliced through the ropes binding her
to the stake. “Go, run to that gate,” he said, pointing to the opening where
the gladiators stood.

She began to run, but soon saw that he was not following
her. She turned back in time to see the first tiger attack him. “
Annachie!”
she screamed and started toward him.

“No, Sara, get out of here.
Go!
”

She stood frozen in place, wanting to help him but not
knowing how. Then she remembered seeing other men dressed as gladiators
standing at the gate. Surely they would help him, he was one of them.

By this time Annachie had killed the first tiger but another
one was stalking him. Sara saw the animal’s back legs working and she knew it
was going to pounce. It amazed her that this huge, wild beast made the same
motions as its smaller relatives— the soft, gentle cats she used to hold in her
lap.

She whirled and ran to the gate but just as she got there,
she saw guards forcing the men back inside and then the metal grate slammed
down with a loud
clang
.

Sara was trapped outside.

And there was no help for Annachie.

She grasped the bars of the gate. “Please, help him,
please,” she begged the guards, but they just shook their heads. Some of the
gladiators behind them would not meet her eyes, others appeared angry.
“Please,” she pleaded one last time, then sank to her knees in the sand, still
grasping the bars.

She could not look behind her. She had been told how
Annachie had easily killed the boar that attacked her in Caledonia, but a boar
is smaller and there had been only one of them. Sara knew that no man, not even
one as strong and as good a fighter as Annachie, could best four hungry tigers.
The only question was how long it would take them to tear him apart.

At an especially loud roar from the crowd, Sara forgot her
resolve not to look. She turned, expecting to see Annachie lying dead on the
arena floor. Instead, through the blur of her tears, she saw Annachie pulling
his sword from the chest of the second tiger.

She blinked away the tears…then wished she hadn’t. Blood
poured from countless wounds on Annachie’s arms and chest, painting his flesh
red. There were gashes on his thighs and a cut on his forehead. He staggered
and swayed like a sailor on a rolling deck.

And the last two tigers were stalking him.

In the emperor’s box, Quintus sat with tears running down
his cheeks. He had always believed Antoninus to be a kind man as well as a good
emperor, but this was too cruel to countenance. Antoninus had sent for Quintus,
despite his order to stay out of sight, just to have him witness his daughter’s
murder. At that moment, Quintus made up his mind to leave Rome forever. He would
go back to Caledonia. If the emperor wanted more vengeance on him, he could
come and get him himself.

Beside the emperor, Septimius groaned.

“Is the blood getting to you, Septimius?” Antoninus asked.

“No, Sire,” he replied, “I am just watching a lot of my money
bleed to death down there.” Not to mention, Septimius thought, one of the best
fucks I have ever had.

“Your
money
should not have dallied with a Vestal,
then.”

“Yes, Sire, but the Vestal still lives and my gladiator is
dying.”

“True. The little bitch seems to have more lives than a
cat!” Antoninus paused, then said thoughtfully, “I am beginning to think this
girl is a favorite of the gods, for her to have escaped death so many times. A
boar attack, buried alive, and now this.”

Suddenly, Septimius saw his chance. He’d had a grudge
against Quintus ever since the man would not let him have his precious daughter
for a wife. Not that he necessarily wanted a wife, given his sexual
preferences, but being aligned with Quintus’ family would have given him the status
that he could never get on his own, considering his occupation…and reputation.
He knew that Quintus was now out of favor with the emperor, but he still saw an
opportunity for revenge. He glanced at Quintus, then said to Antoninus, “I can
take her off your hands and out of your sight, Sire.”