Beast of Caledonia (7 page)

I’ll give you that one, Annachie thought, but no more.

As the man raised his arm to strike again, Annachie threw
off the ones who held him and grabbed the whip, yanking it out of the man’s
grasp. He wrapped the whip into a loose coil and held it in front of him. The
soldier growled some words at him and lunged for the whip. Taller than he by
several inches, Annachie simply raised it above his head where the man couldn’t
reach. He turned at the sound of laughter nearby and saw that a crowd of
soldiers had gathered to watch the scene.

The black-haired soldier heard it, too, and that only
increased his anger. He balled up his fist and punched Annachie hard in the
gut. It knocked the wind out of him for a moment and he staggered a bit, but
recovered quickly. The look on the face of the soldier in charge told him he
was in for it now.

Several more soldiers stepped forward, apparently at his
tormentor’s command, to help subdue him. They caught him by the arms, dragged
him over to the tree he had been ordered to cut down and, taking a length of
rope, tied his arms around the trunk. He felt hands at his neck and heard a rip
as the ragged tunic was torn down the back. Of course, let nothing come between
my bare flesh and the whip. Inflict as much pain as you can. Kill me. What do I
care? I have nothing to live for now.

The first cut took his breath away. For a small man, the
soldier had a strong whip arm. After the fifth stroke, Annachie felt the pace
of the lashing speed up. He’s finding his rhythm. How long can he keep this up?
Will they all take a turn? Do it. Get it over with.

By the tenth stroke, Annachie was biting his lip to keep
from crying out. He could taste the blood where his teeth had broken the tender
skin.

At the fifteenth stroke, his knees buckled, and with the
twentieth, he fainted.

He was awakened by a searing agony over his entire back,
different from the pain of the lash, and he cried out then, where he had not
done so while being whipped.

“Shh,” a soft feminine voice said. The voice was familiar
but his pain-ravaged brain could not place it. She said more, in her language
which he could not speak or understand, but the tone of her words was
comforting.

He heard whimpering and was appalled to realize the feeble
sound came from his own mouth. He smelled vinegar as the girl—that’s who it is,
he thought, the young girl who was so kind last night—placed cold, wet cloths
on his back. By Diancecht, no wonder it burns so badly. But his people used the
same remedy. It would cleanse his wounds and help them heal. Before he fainted
again, he wondered how this girl had learned the art of healing. The Picts, as
these Romans called his people, had specially trained healers. Did all Roman
women know such things? If so, perhaps there was hope for their stupid race,
after all.

* * * * *

“I did not know you saw that,” Annachie said.

“I was watching from behind the bath house.”

He was silent for a moment, “We must get out of here,” he
said.

She turned her head to look at him. “How can we do that? I
am a captive as much as you are.”

“I will find a way.”

“But where would we go?”

He moved up beside her and lifted her head so that his thigh
was her pillow. He stroked her hair and her cheek. “I do not know, but we will
find a place. I cannot stay in this city, this land. It is too hot, too
crowded, too…”

Sara finished his sentence. “Barbaric, as you said. Rome
claims to be the center of the civilized world, yet how can it claim to be so
when its citizens think death is a sport and its gods demand cruel punishments?”

“I will see what can be done. Surely some of the other
gladiators have attempted to escape. We can learn from their mistakes. We will
leave as soon as I can make the arrangements.”

Sara started to doze off, but she could feel a tension in
Annachie that she had not sensed before. He was quiet for so long that Sara
finally looked up at him. “What are you not telling me?”

He took a deep sigh. “I have been thinking that we will have
a difficult time ahead of us. And…and perhaps we should be more careful. I do
not want you to make a dangerous voyage while carrying my child.”

A feeling of relief, but also one of sadness, washed over
Sara. “We cannot make love anymore? You do not want me to come here?”

“Oh,
nighean
, of course I want you to come. And we
can still make love.”

“Then will I not risk becoming pregnant?”

He smiled at her. “There are ways to prevent it, you know.”

No, she didn’t know. “How?”

He cleared his throat and looked a bit uncomfortable at
having to explain it to her. “Uhm, I will, um, pull out before I spill my seed.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I should have thought to do so every time, but I wanted you
so badly, I needed you and I could not think straight. I still want you and
need you, but I think I can control myself more now.”

Sara gave an inward sigh of relief. “Yes, it might be best
if we took that precaution.” He would never know the depth of worry he took
from her.

She would be much less worried, however, if her moon flow
would start. She was already two weeks overdue.

Chapter Six

“Micah,” Annachie called to the young slave. When the boy
limped over to him, Annachie continued, “I need your help.”

“With what?”

“You have the run of the compound. You know the habits of
Bato and the guards, do you not?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where the keys are kept?”

Micah took a step back and stared at Annachie, his mouth
open in surprise. “Annachie, what are you asking of me?”

“I need to escape and I need your help.”

“I cannot. It is too risky, too dangerous for both of us. If
we are caught, it means death.”

“If I stay here, I will die.”

Micah shook his head. “I have watched you in the arena. You
fight as if you do not care if you die. Why do you want so much to live now?”

“Now I have something to live for.”

“Ah, this lady you have been servicing?”

“You say it as if I were a stud horse.”

“Aren’t you?” Micah asked. “She pays to come here and lie
with you, does she not? I know why the rich Roman women seek out the gladiators
and it is not for their conversation. Are you sure that she will still want you
when you are free?”

“You do not understand how it is with her and me. We knew
each other before either of us came to Rome.”

“Ah, I see. But I cannot help you. Bato makes sure no one
sees him put away the keys. I would not know where to begin to look.”

“Micah, please, you are our only hope. Do you not want your
freedom? Do you want to be a slave to the Romans for the rest of your life?”

“No, I do not.” The boy looked thoughtful for a moment then
said, “I will see what I can do.”

Annachie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, my friend,
thank you.”

* * * * *

The other gladiator swung his sword in a wide arc, nearly
taking Annachie’s head off in the process. Annachie ducked and backed away,
breathing heavily.
Too close! I must be more careful.

But Annachie knew the problem was that, again, he was being
too careful. Now that he had a reason to live, he worried too much about his
opponents’ next moves and that made him overly cautious.

He sensed Sara behind him, watching. He dared not look at
her for fear that someone might guess at their relationship. And he knew the
sight of her, and the look of fear and concern in her eyes, would only distract
him further from the battle he faced.

He would confront Micah tonight; they could not wait much
longer.

“Oh, Annachie.” Sara gasped as he softly stroked the side of
her breast. Not for the first time, she marveled at how such a strong, ruthless
warrior in the arena could be so tender with her in bed. He seemed to be a
different man totally from the one she’d watched just yesterday.

His lips closed over her nipple and she moaned. She combed
her fingers through his thick curls, as she loved to do, loosening some strands
from the strip of leather he used to tie his hair back. It was not enough. She
reached back and untied the thong; his golden hair fell forward and surrounded
her like a curtain. It blocked her view of everything but his face and made her
feel as if they were the only two people in the world. No worries, no fears, no
duties, only she and Annachie together, loving one another. Oh, how she wished
that were true.

She looked up to see him gazing at her. “Where were you, my
love? You seemed to be a thousand miles away.”

“I was,” she replied. “In a land where no one lived but us,
and no one bothered us, and our lives were not in danger.”

“Our lives?” he asked. “I risk mine almost daily, but you do
not.”

Sara realized her mistake, but was too slow to respond to
him.

“Sara, is your life in danger? Tell me,” he demanded.

She gave a short laugh. “No, of course not,” she lied. “I-I
meant to say your life. I worry so when you are in the arena.” She knew that if
she told him the truth, he would refuse to make love to her, might even refuse
to come to this little room with her at all. She could not go back to that
limbo in which she existed before they found each other again. Now that they
were together, nothing else mattered.

He seemed to accept her words for he went back to caressing
and kissing her breasts. Then he trailed kisses down her belly to her soft
curls. He lifted her knee, opening her center to his gaze and his touch, and
his kiss. And Sara was lost to thought. She could only feel—his lips caressing her
nether lips, his tongue stroking that sensitive knot of flesh at her core. As
her crisis began, he rose above her and thrust into her.

“Forgive me, Sara. I could wait no longer. I need to be
inside you,” he groaned as he buried himself to the hilt in her passage. “I
need you,” he repeated, his voice holding a note of desperation.

“Oh, Annachie, I need you, too.” She raised her legs and
wrapped them around his waist. She lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, forcing
him in deeper and deeper. She felt another crisis approaching. He must have
sensed it for he gave one last thrust and stopped, grinding the base of his phallus
against her sensitive nub.

Then, just as quickly, he was gone and his hot seed splashed
against her belly. Sara hated when he did that. More and more, she suspected it
was not necessary—she still had not started her monthly bleeding—but she was
afraid to tell him.

When their breathing had returned to normal, he said, “I am
making plans to escape. There is a young boy, one of Bato’s slaves. He thinks
he can get the keys and help me get out of this compound. Then we will find a
ship to take us away from here. I do not know where yet, but we will find a
place.” He paused for a moment. “You will come with me, will you not?”

“I would go with you to the ends of the earth.”

“There is an island I have heard of, across a narrow sea
channel from my land. They call it Eire. We might try to make it there.”

As Sara walked back to the Temple just as dawn began to
lighten the sky, she prayed to any god she thought would help them. She glanced
up at the ghost of a full moon fading with the coming of a new day and knew her
suspicions were correct. It had been two months since she and Annachie had
first made love.

She had not had her moon flow for about a month and a half.
She was carrying his child.

Let it be soon, Annachie. We must leave soon or it will
be too late.

* * * * *

Annachie paced his cell like a caged lion, waiting for Thea
to come with the money and tell Bato when Sara would come to him again. Then he
could give the servant a message for her. He would be gone, but Micah could
help Sara leave the city and hide out in a safe town until Annachie returned.
Then, as soon as they could, they would find a boat to take them far away.

Annachie wished he could go home, but he also knew it was
impossible. He had been disgraced enough when he was captured and enslaved. How
much greater his shame was now after the abuse he had suffered at Septimius’
hands. If his clan ever found out… No, best to let them think he had died.

Still, the longing for home was almost overpowering. And he
knew Sara had loved it there.

He tried to imagine his family’s reaction to her. She said
she would go anywhere with him, but she had no idea how he had lived before she
met him. Compared to the structures built by the Romans, his home was crude at
best—stones piled on top of each other up to a thatched roof that often rained
dirt and sheltered insects. A fire in the center of the room and hole in the roof
to let the smoke out. Wooden benches, beds stuffed with straw arranged around
the walls. A house of only one room. These things were not good enough for
Sara. She would not be happy with that, not after sleeping in soft beds with
linen coverings and living in a large comfortable house with servants to care
for her every need. In his clan, their women worked like the slaves who
attended Sara. She would not know how to do half the things the Pictish women
did…and she should not have to.

He would find a place where they could live—not in her world
nor in his—and he would do everything he could to make her happy. He didn’t
know quite how he was going to do it, but he would. Anything, so long as he and
Sara could be together.

He waited and waited, and still Thea did not come.

And neither did Micah. Bato kept him busy preparing the
equipment and weapons needed for the trip, even though the lad would not be
coming with them. Annachie wanted to bash his head against the bars of his
cell. He hadn’t even told Micah Sara’s name or what she looked like. How would
the boy find her?

He would leave in the morning and Sara wouldn’t know. There
was no way he could get a message to her. He prayed to
Coventina
, the
goddess of his tribe, the goddess of new beginnings, that Sara would hear that
some of Septimius’ gladiators had gone to Dalmatia, and understand why their
plans would have to be put off until spring.