As the group disbursed to different parts of the cell, Marcia spoke softly to Antonius. “Do you mind if I sleep with you? I am freezing in this silk, and I find you have a very comfortable shoulder.”
“Sure, cuddle up, I’ll keep you warm.” He stretched out on his back under his cloak, and put his right arm around her. She rolled into his side, put her left arm across his chest, and her thigh over his. Antonius was acutely aware of her soft breast against him and his rapidly stiffening manhood. He tried to put those thoughts out of his mind. He was shivering, but not from the cold.
“Warm enough?” he asked.
“Mmmh, better. Thank you!” she sighed. She traced her fingers along his powerfully muscled biceps. “You have hard muscles.”
“My line of work, domina.” Her fingers continued their exploration, across his chest and down his rock solid stomach.
“Marcia…” he began, but Marcia put her finger across his lips and shushed him to stifle any further protest.
“I want this, Antonius,” she whispered.
It was the softest, most gentle kiss he had ever had, like a flower melting over his lips. Her tongue explored his mouth, his teeth, found his tongue and played with it. Antonius rolled to his right to face her. “Quietly. If the guards hear us it won’t go well for you,” he whispered.
He embraced her, feeling her body yield under his touch. He cupped her breast, feeling the nipple harden under her silk robe, kissing it through the material, while his hand traced down the side of her body, lingering on her hipbone.
Her hand continued the exploration of his stomach, finding his throbbing erection under the tunic and tracing its length with one finger, making Antonius gasp. The kissing became more urgent, and his hand continued down her thigh until it found the hem of her dress. It continued back up the soft inside of her thigh to her womanhood, wet with anticipation. He entered her with one finger, and it was her turn to gasp.
They continued in this manner for some time.
Gaius and Aulus made no acknowledgement of the activities at the back of the cave, but had positioned themselves with Marcus to keep an eye on the guards, and warn them if one came back for a lock check. One guard was snoring, however, and the other seemed about ready to nod off also.
After what seemed like an eternity of caresses, Antonius entered Marcia, like sliding into a velvet passageway. They moved, they paused, they moved again, in a silent dance of love that neither wanted to end. But end it must, and Antonius’ intensity betrayed his impending climax. Its imminence triggered Marcia’s, she bit his shoulder to avoid crying out and her body convulsed as she received his seed. Their bodies merged into a white hot ball of pleasure, flowing together until the last spasm subsided and they were spent in each other’s arms, gasping, hearts pounding, unable to speak.
Finally, after a few minutes of recovery, Marcia was the first to speak. “Oh, Antonius! Never have I felt what I felt with you! This was – words are wasted trying to describe it!”
Antonius kissed her gently. “Domina, I must confess, I have never had a woman who wanted me like you did. I have never before had - made love to - a woman like I did with you. It is a precious gift you have given me – my love.”
“My love, my love, you are so right. I do love you, Antonius, and you are worth my life for this.” She snuggled into his arms again, and sleep followed quickly for both.
CHAPTER 53: PLANS ARE LAID
Demosthenes found Ibrahim on Musa’s boat. He rapped on the hatch door, and Musa opened with a lamp in hand. “Ibrahim, please,” said Demosthenes, and Musa turned and called out, “Ibrahim, thou hast an unexpected guest!”
Ibrahim came up from the interior of the cabin. “Demosthenes, welcome! To what do we owe this most unexpected visit?”
“Trouble, sir, great trouble! Your Roman friends are in prison awaiting execution! I just came from talking with them!”
“Which ones, Aulus, Gaius, Antonius…. All of them?” asked Ibrahim.
“All of them and two Hanaeans, one wearing Roman clothing, the other a girl.”
“That would be Marcus and Marcia, their translators. I had heard there was trouble in the court today, but this? How did you come to see them?”
“We deliver food to condemned prisoners. We bring wine for the guards and they admit us to the cell area with food for the unfortunates. Tonight was my turn, I spoke to them briefly.”
“Hmm, let me get my friend Yakov. He has little Greek, but a good mind. Come into the cabin and sit down.” He switched to Aramaic for Yakov’s benefit. “My friend, we have a problem. We may need thy keen insight.” Yakov nodded attentively, as Ibrahim recounted the situation for his benefit. Yakov and he exchanged a few words, then he turned to Demosthenes. “Yakov wants to know everything you know about this: where the cell is, how you go in and out, what is it like inside, how is it guarded. Everything you know.” He took out a waxed tablet and stylus to take notes.
“The prison is in the back of the north palace, the east side. It is a small tunnel with a heavy oaken door. There are two guards.”
“Inside or out?”
“Inside. The door is barred from the inside. We knock on the little sliding door, they open it, identify us, and lift the bar to admit us.”
“You have papers or some sort of pass to get admission?”
“No, our robes and our begging bowls are our pass.”
“Interesting. Continue.”
“The guards sit at a small table by the door. There is a pull chain running through a tube to the room above the jail. If they pull that, a bell rings upstairs, and the duty officer will send reinforcements.”
“How did you come to know that?”
“One of the guards showed me once. He said if he pulled that, twenty soldiers would appear immediately. He threatened to do that because I was annoying him, but I think he was joking.”
“Interesting. Go on.”
“Inside, you turn left, go down the tunnel about thirty paces, and the cell is on the left. The people in the cell cannot see much more than the wall in front of them. It’s padlocked.”
“Who has the key?”
“I don’t know.”
Ibrahim stroked his beard in thought. “How do you get into the compound itself?”
“I usually use the Dongmingmen Gate on the eastern side. Same as getting into the prison. I come up to the guards on the outside of the gate, beg from them, and ask to go in.”
“That simple, really? You little beggars just go anywhere you want?”
“Parts of the main palaces in both North and South Compounds are off-limits, as is the Empress’ palace, since all the women are there. Any place where we might run into the Son of Heaven. Are you thinking of getting them out, Ibrahim?”
“Wondering if it is even possible. How were the Romans dressed, Demosthenes?”
“Everyone was in tunics when I went in there, but there were some heavy woolen robes on the floor, with purple stripes, and some military gear, all stacked up in the back. The girl Marcia was in an Hanaean silk dress.”
“Roman togas. They must have dressed up for the showdown with the Emperor. I would have liked to have seen it. Please, have some tea while I discuss this with Yakov.”
Ibrahim went over his notes with Yakov. Clearly, getting in did not sound too hard, but getting them out of the compound was a serious problem. No disguise would hide their Western faces. Yakov studied Demosthenes closely as he drank his tea. “Master, that man hath Western features, yet he cometh and goeth with freedom. Do the guards count them entering and leaving?”
Ibrahim posed the question to Demosthenes: “No, we often come in as a group and leave separately, or vice versa.
“Do they recognize you by sight?”
“Some do and some do not.”
“Tell me, do you often carry bags, or would that be unusual? I have never seen you do that.”
“Not often, but we have traveling bags that we use when are on the road to carry food
, cooking pots, our razors. And sometimes someone wants to give us a bulky gift, and we will carry it in our traveling bag.”
“And the guards – do they inspect your bags?”
“They never have.”
Ibrahim went back to discuss this with Yakov. “Thou art insightful, my friend. Thinkest thou that we could take care of the guards and then transform our Roman friends into Buddhist monks?”
Yakov cocked one eyebrow, and gave a wry smile. “Maybe, master, just maybe. If what your friend sayeth be true. Otherwise we shall join our Roman friends on the execution block.”
“They may enjoy the company, my friend. Let us ponder this overnight. Thinkest thou carefully of all the missteps. Each one will be fatal, and we have few days to lay our plan.”
Ibrahim poured himself more tea, and pondered while Demosthenes waited patiently.
“A few more questions now, my friend. Just hypothetically, of course, if you had to turn our five Romans into Buddhist monks and nuns, how long would it take?”
“Shave their heads, and teach them some basic gestures, blessings and so forth, I guess about two hours. But this would be a great sin against my religion.”
“Demosthenes, they are going to die, if you do not do this hypothetical sin. Besides…” he said with a smile, “you might win them over to your Way.”
“I will consider it.”
“Discuss this with no one, not even the Romans. And tomorrow night, find out where the key to their cell is kept.” He dropped a copper coin into Demosthenes’ begging bowl. “May I offer you some rice and vegetables?”
Later that night, he discussed the situation with Musa.
“You can use my boat,” he promptly offered.
“No, we have been closely monitored, and this will be the first thing checked when they find out about the jailbreak. Better for you to be nowhere around, because if they find you, they will probably question you ‘under duress,’ removing body parts until you tell them everything. I need you instead to get an oxcart, some cargo as cover, lambs, chickens and the like. You will leave with us, but I think I can get you back in a few days to go home.”
“What about you?”
“My lot’s with them.” He paused, thinking. “I will need some concealment in the oxcart for things that need concealing … their Roman paraphernalia, my cash, some weapons and hunting gear for traveling. And clothes.” He handed Musa a string of Hanaean copper coins. “Buy what you need.”
Ibrahim would also have to determine where to go, and how to get there. As his mind calculated the planning and deadlines, he realized how he had missed the excitement of planning an operation, evading capture and eluding death… he had been a fool to think he could ever have been happy as a shepherd. To be sure, as that wise man had told him four decades ago, “May God grant you what you most desire.” Yes, thank You, God, Whoever or Whatever You may be, You have truly done so.
CHAPTER 54: BREAKING FREE
The defiant spit-in-their-eye camaraderie that had marked the Romans’ first day of imprisonment had vanished over their confinement, and by the fourth night, fear and anxiety had replaced courage. They were not looking forward to Demosthenes’ last nightly visit, which had been one of the bright spots in their existence… tonight, no one wanted to eat.
Antonius’ and Marcia’s lovemaking had failed them the preceding night, as she was unwilling to engage in what by now seemed like pointless pleasure. She sobbed softly while Antonius crooned her a lullaby from his long-forgotten childhood, tears streaming down his face as well. Today he had gone to the back of the cave and vomited, retching for a long time, although he had eaten little in the past four days. At the evening guard shift, they sat around glumly, not wanting to talk.
Shortly after the changeover, Demosthenes showed up, gave his usual bottle to the guards, and went back to the cell with their meager dinner. “Not tonight, Demosthenes. Nobody is hungry,” said Antonius, “and we are not up for talk on this last night.”
“This may not be your last night,” Demosthenes said in a whisper, although the guards could neither hear nor understand their whispered conversations.
“Yes it is, now off with you. No false hopes, just let it end.”
The guards had swilled the bottle he had brought, returned to their board game, then one rolled out of his chair to fall on the floor with a thud.
Demosthenes looked up the tunnel. “That’s one,” he said.
“You crazy fool! We can’t get a hundred yards out of this prison before we are cut down and you with us! Get the hell out of here. There’s nothing you can do to help us!” hissed Antonius
“We have a plan.” Demosthenes looked up the tunnel at the other guard, who either had not drunk as much of the wine, or had a higher resistance to the opium poppy juice that Ibrahim had put in it. Recognizing something amiss, the guard stood up and staggered toward the bell-pull.
“Oh, no!” Demosthenes gasped, his heart pounding; he had not counted on this. The guard reached for the bell-pull but missed, lost his balance, and joined his comrade on the floor. Demosthenes let out a deep breath. “That’s two. I need to get Yakov, and you are out of here!”
“You better have a good plan,” said Antonius.
“It’s Ibrahim’s plan,” he said, as he scampered up the tunnel to the door. He opened the sliding peephole and held a lantern to it three times, then unbarred it to admit Yakov, who like Demosthenes, was completely bald and clean-shaven, clad in a yellow robe. He was carrying two big sacks. Demosthenes then rebarred the door.
Yakov looked at the guards sleeping on the floor, pulled out a dagger, and dispatched them permanently with very little blood. He left the dagger embedded in the last one. It was Antonius’ Roman dagger that he had given Ibrahim in Tianjin.
Demosthenes recovered the key to the cell from a peg on the wall, and he and Yakov hefted the two bags back to the cell area. They unlocked the cell and produced scissors and razors, some oil, and five yellow robes and begging bowls from the two sacks. “You are going to become our newest followers of the Buddha. Bow your heads while I shave them, and your beard stubble as well. Try not to move, I don’t want to leave any bloody nicks. You, too, Marcia, you will become a nun.”
Marcia and Marcus were not happy over the loss of their hair, as the cutting of the hair is a great shame in the Confucian tradition, and they were as much Hanaean as Roman. However, this was a small sacrifice for their lives.
It took over an hour to shave them, with only one or two minor nicks. They were careful to gather the cut hair into the bags to leave no evidence of their transformation. Then everyone stripped, put their garb in the bags, and put on the yellow robes.
The four newly-bald monks and one nun stared at each other, and at Yakov. Yakov clearly had already successfully passed himself off as a monk to gain entrance with Demosthenes. “Damn! This might just work,” said Antonius.
Demosthenes spent another hour coaching them on proper motions... head bows, blessings, the proper way to beg. If nobody made a mistake, seven might walk out of here, just as two had walked in. They then policed up the cell area to make sure they had taken all their belongings and the incriminating wine bottle. They left the padlock, with key inserted, dangling from the hasp. The idea was to convey the idea that the Romans had somehow gotten the key from the guards, killed them with a dagger that had gone undetected, and escaped, still wearing their very conspicuous clothing. No one would be looking for Buddhist monks.
On the way out, Yakov produced one more item from his bag of tricks, some rope and a hammer and nails. He tied the rope around the ends of the door bar lying on the floor and passed the loop through the speakeasy window. Everyone left and the door was closed. Yakov wrestled the bar back up and in place from outside, tossing the rope back inside and nailing the speakeasy shut. It would take some time for the oncoming watch to get the door open and get inside.
They then headed for the Dongmingmen Gate on the east side as casually as possible, le
d by Demosthenes, his swaying lantern casting shadows here and there. The palace courtyard was virtually deserted, hours before the next shift change at midnight. They came to the gate, Demosthenes requested passage, and the door swung open; he then presented his begging bowl to the guard, as did the others in turn. Each gave a reasonably good blessing sign, and bowed graciously as the guard dropped a copper coin in each bowl with a smile. They were out! They headed to the upper eastern gate out of the city a short distance away and repeated the process. Outside, an oxcart was standing, loaded with sheep and chickens. Ibrahim, Shmuel, and Musa, all clean-shaven, were seated in the oxcart driver’s seat in Hanaean working garb. Galosga, his distinctive long black hair now gone, was standing by for their arrival.
Ibrahim announced, “All right, the hard part is done, gentlemen. I and Musa will drive the first shift. Three of you monks ride, four walk with the off-duty drivers, we’ll alternate every few hours. We want to put as many miles between us and Luoyang as we can before daylight.”
Marcia, Marcus, and Demosthenes got the first ride. And Ibrahim tsk-tsked the two oxen into a ponderously slow pace.
CHAPTER 55: THE LONG ROAD HOME
The tingwei and the taiwei Commander-in-Chief jointly led the investigation into the Da Qin escape from prison, particularly embarrassing as the Son of Heaven had called for a large assemblage of about ten thousand to witness their execution under his personal observance.
It seemed straightforward to the tingwei. The guards had been drinking, perhaps had gotten too friendly with their prisoners over the past several days. The Da Qin seized one, killed him and took the key. They then overpowered and killed the remaining guard before he could sound the alarm. A dagger, inscribed with characters in the Da Qin script, was found in one of the guards.
The Da Qin then apparently vanished into thin air. They did not go out any gate through the palace or the city, so they had to have gone over the fifteen-foot walls, guarded every hundred yards or so by lookouts. The Dong Ming Sima provided the battalion guarding these gates… he would have those on watch that night questioned under duress, then executed. The recently-relieved and disgraced weiwei Minister of Guards was responsible for this slovenly security, and he, too, would be executed.
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