by Teri Barnett
Valerie eyed him for a moment, fingering the walking stick. He’d warned her numerous times. So far being defiant had not worked in her favor. No, she’d probably would have a better chance of getting away if she pretended to be meek and mild-mannered.
She removed her tattered blouse and unfastened her skirt, letting it slip to the ground. Holding her breath, she twisted around, her arms going to her back to tug at the corset ties. She loosened them enough so that she could slip the undergarment off. Taking deep breaths, she leaned heavily on the cane to keep her balance.
Naked, except for her stockings and pantalets, she picked up the rough cloth and draped it around her shoulders, folding it around her body, as close to the Roman-style as possible.
A loud clapping and deep male chuckle made her look up. Her heart stopped.
The man from the window!
Had he come to help her? Or was he here only to humiliate her like the others?
“A fine show,” he commented as he stepped forward, placing a tanned hand on the door of the stall. “I’ve never seen a woman with so many layers of clothing. Where exactly are you from that they bind you up so?”
Heat suffused Valerie’s cheeks. “Y-you saw everything?”
He smiled and winked. “Everything.”
“Ah, Patron Christos Campanius Marcellus,” Maurus muttered, tossing a red felt hat to Valerie. “This one is not worth your time.
Christos raised a dark eyebrow. “No? You don’t believe she’s worthy of being a slave?”
“Worthy of being a slave?” Valerie asked, her tone curt. “How exactly is one measured to determine such worthiness?” She waved the hat at Maurus, her eyes narrowed. “What in heaven’s name is this ridiculous thing for?”
“Put it on. It’ll show everyone you’re being sold without a guarantee. As is.” He looked at the other man. “See what I mean? She is ill mannered and ill tempered. Maybe it would be better to let her go to Livia. She might do better in a brothel.”
Valerie swallowed hard. Brothel? She gripped the walking stick until her knuckles turned white.
Over my dead body!
With a grunt, she swung and hit Maurus squarely in the chest. Caught off guard, he fell backward, hitting the hard-packed ground.
The man called Christos threw back his head and roared with laughter.
Furious, Valerie raised the stick again aiming for Christos. Quick as a panther he grabbed her weapon in mid-air. Holding onto the cane, he pulled her to him. His body was hard and unyielding, his muscles taut and lean. “Don’t make that mistake again,” he warned, his voice low. His ebony eyes were so striking, she almost forgot to breathe. He let his hand drop and Valerie fell back against the wall.
Feet apart, hands on hips, Christos’s gaze seared her for a moment, before he turned on his heel and strode away from the stall.
Maurus scrambled to his feet and backhanded her across the face. Valerie tasted the steely warm wetness of blood as it trickled down the corner of her mouth. Clutching the robe to her breast, she slid down the length of the wall and into the moldy hay that covered the floor of the slave market.
Chapter 17
This isn’t happening. It’s just a dream.
Valerie was pulled up the stairs and onto a wooden platform. Below her, spectators gathered, some whistled while others jeered.
The auctioneer stood before her, a small weasel of a man with a whip tucked under one arm. He reminded her of her schoolteacher, Master Hobbs.
“Greetings people of Pompeii. I am Caias. Let us get in the spirit of the occasion, shall we?” With one sharp tug, he ripped the length of cloth from her shoulder, exposing the soft flesh beneath.
“No!” Valerie gasped. She clutched at the material, trying to wrap it back around her. The hot summer sun beat down on Valerie’s head. She’d barely eaten or had any drink in two days. Between the forced march to the jail and the constant hits and slaps from Maurus, she was on the verge of collapse. At least if she passed out, she wouldn’t be aware of the shame inflicted upon her…
No! I can’t let that happen. If I faint, they can do anything to me!
With renewed determination, she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.
“Come on. Off with the rest of it.” Caias leaned forward. “Now!” he commanded.
Valerie took a step back, shaking her head. She trembled as she stood firm. Silent tears began to stream down her cheeks.
The auctioneer motioned with his hand. Two oversized giants leaped onto the platform and grabbed her. They stood on either side of Valerie, tossed her cane aside, and held her arms out. She struggled against them, but to no avail. Caias grabbed the cloth and roughly unwound it from her form.
She closed her eyes, her tears squeezing through her lashes, as the last of the fabric fell to the wooden platform.
“What’s this?” Caias asked, pointing to the pantalettes. He laughed and several people in the crowd tittered as well. “Only barbarians wear such clothing.”
With another tug, the thin cotton undergarments were torn from her as well. Valerie now stood naked before the crowd, wearing only what was left of her stockings, her shoes, and the red felt hat.
Caias approached her and gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. His eyes moved down her body, coming to rest on her full round breasts.
“Not bad. Not bad at all.” He spun around and faced the crowd. “What is my opening bid? Who will take this feisty woman from me?” He scanned the crowd. No one ventured forth with an offer.
Despite the heat of the midday sun on her body, Valerie shuddered. She moved her head from side to side, making her long hair tumble over her shoulders, offering a scant amount of cover.
Oh, please dear Lord. Let me awaken from this nightmare.
She mouthed the prayer, over and over again, swallowing the bitter taste of bile as it rose in her throat once more.
“Look! The witch is casting a spell!” a woman in the crowd shouted. A chorus of gasps rippled through the mob.
“We don’t want her in our homes. She’ll curse us all!” a man called out.
The auctioneer regarded Valerie with a cold look. “If no one will buy you, I suppose I’ll have to turn you over to the whore house.” His eyes swept over her again. “Though I can’t say that would be a bad thing,” he said, his thin lips twisted in a leer.
“I–I don’t understand. Can’t you just let me go?” she croaked out. To think, only a few days ago, she’d wondered what it would be like to live here, in this time prior to the eruption. Now, she wanted nothing more than to forget she ever heard of the city of Pompeii.
He laughed. “And how will the jailer be repaid for the lodging and food he offered so generously?”
A murmur went up from the crowd as a tall, ebony-haired man stepped forward. Valerie caught her breath. Christos! Remembering his threats in the stall, she wondered how her first intuition could have been so wrong about him.
She’d glimpsed compassion in his eyes when she’d glanced up to the window as she’d been dragged through the streets.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
He obviously wasn’t there to help her. More than likely, he wanted to further humiliate her.
“I’ll take the girl,” he stated flatly.
Her eyes widened at his declaration.
“No, Marcellus. She’ll destroy your house with her black arts,” a man urged from behind.
Christos said over his shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s just a girl.”
Valerie watched the two men discuss her as though she weren’t even there.
At least he doesn’t believe I’m a witch.
The crowd seemed to be holding its collective breath, waiting for the outcome.
“Well, then, what will you pay for her, Patron? She’s a fine-looking thing, certain to
decorate your household quite nicely.” Caias waved his arm and the men holding Valerie forced her forward. They pushed her to her knees and made her lean over the platform, so her face was near Christos’s. “What do you think? Is she not pleasant to look at?”
Valerie closed her eyes again. Her face burned as Christos studied her countenance. She jerked back when he ran a finger lightly down her cheek. She opened her eyes only to find him staring intently at her. His eyes never left hers.
“I’ll pay you the going rate, Caias, and not a sesterces more.”
The auctioneer opened his mouth to speak. Christos interrupted him. “Don’t even think of trying to get any more from me. She’s been cuffed, beaten and appears to be crippled.” He continued to stare at Valerie as the two men pulled her to her feet.
She stood with her eyes downcast, no longer fighting, no longer seeing the two men who were haggling her fate.
Valerie had reached her limit. She’d traveled back through the mists of time, only to be arrested as a witch, thrown in jail, beaten, and sold on the auction block.
My fate is sealed…
The shouts and sounds from the market faded away as she retreated into her memories. She imagined herself in a field of amethyst heather, sitting on a blanket and sketching a bluebird perched on the branch of a nearby tree. Reggie giggled as he chased a yellow butterfly. Her parents sat on another blanket, her father reading, her mother doing needlepoint. Lucy was tidying up the remains of their picnic.
She smiled, as a sense of peace and home enveloped her…
“Come on down from there, girl.” Christos ordered.
No thank you, I’d rather stay in this lovely field …
The girl is mad.
Her eyes were closed, and a dreamy smile curved her lips.
“I said come here,” Christos said in a gentler tone. He climbed the platform steps and picked up the rough cloth Caias had ripped from her. Gently, he wrapped it around her, then handed her the walking stick. The girl trembled as she took hold of the stick, but she kept her eyes closed.
Christos silently berated himself for not following his instincts to bring her home, then and there, when he’d gone to see Maurus last night. The people of Pompeii could be cruel in their rush to judgement and the proof was in this poor one’s battered and bruised body. He searched her face, looking for the recognition he’d seen the day before on the street. It was there, under the abuse, and his chest tightened at the injustices she’d suffered.
Caias strutted over and held out his hand. “Payment is due before you take her. You know that.” The auctioneer ran a finger down Valerie’s spine, and she shuddered.
Christos grabbed Caias’s hand and held it tight. The other man squirmed with pain. “Touch her again and I’ll kill you,” Christos growled. “Understand me?” He turned to the crowd. “If one of you raises a hand toward this woman, I’ll see you imprisoned. She’s mine now and she’ll be treated with the dignity afforded my house.”
He released Caias and shoved the payment at the other man. Christos turned his attention back to Valerie, this mysterious young woman from his dreams who now belonged to him.
At least she hasn’t tried to run away.
He took her by the hand. “Everything will be fine now,” Christos whispered. “We’re going home.”
Home!
How I wish that were true.
The field of heather faded from her mind and she fully opened her eyes.
And gazed into the deepest, darkest eyes she’d ever seen.
Christos held her hand and helped her down the steps. His gentleness surprised her, then again, he had just purchased her. She now belonged to him. He could do whatever he pleased with her…
Everything in her life comforting and familiar was gone, lost to her. She would never see her family again.
In the span of two days, she had been transformed from a young woman who lived a quiet, albeit comfortable life in England with a loving family to a slave of ancient Pompeii, the property of a man named Christos.
She blinked back the tears that pricked her eyes. Her heart pounded in her ears like a drum beat.
A slave.
Her days would be filled with serving her master. She had studied enough to know what the ancients did with—and to—their slaves. Would he abuse her? Or would he be gentle?
With a deep breath, Valerie forced herself to keep up with Christos’s long stride. She stared at his back as he walked ahead of her. His bearing was arrogant and spoke of privilege. The taut play of muscles beneath his tunic spoke of a man conditioned for battle. No wonder he had disarmed her so easily when she’d attacked him with her cane in the stall.
There was something so oddly familiar about this Christos. And it wasn’t just because he resembled a regal statue from a museum…
I know I’ve seen him before, but where?
She recalled snatches of a dream—blurry, like looking through a misty fog—a comforting dream…
Just then, a young boy and girl ran by and threw several rocks at Valerie’s back. She cried out in shock and pain.
“Witch. Witch. Witch.”
A group had followed them from the slave market. Valerie shook from the pain and humiliation.
When will this end?
Christos spun around, his expression dark. “What’s the matter with all of you? Was I not clear in my statement?” he growled at the crowd.
He turned to Valerie and held her gently by the shoulders. He searched her face. “Are you hurt?” he asked.
Valerie shook her head. “Can you make them go away?” she whispered. “Please?” She was tired of having to defend herself. Even the insults she’d experienced as a child had never prepared her this kind of abuse and assault.
“By the gods,” he swore loudly. “This woman is not a witch. She is now a slave in my household and I’ll not have her abused by any of you.”
He glared at each and every person gathered around them. “As I promised at the auction, if anyone ever raises a hand against my property, I’ll levy charges against you in the Basilica.” He turned to her. “Come along.”
Valerie gazed at him. She was his property, she belonged to him.
That’s the only reason he protected me
Pain twisted in her breast like a knife, but she pushed it away. She pushed away the confusion and hurt, burying the emotions deep in her soul. If she was going to survive in this place and time, she needed to learn everything she could about these people and their culture. To learn as much as she could about this man who called himself her master. She needed to find his weakness, then use it against him to escape—use whatever she could learn to return to her own world.
They walked past a low-roofed building that served as a bakery. One side of the structure was entirely open, exposing large cone-shaped stone ovens. Freshly baked round loaves of bread sat cooling on wood shelves, the yeasty aroma floated out to tickle Valerie’s nose. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled in response. Valerie glanced at Christos. He was busy haggling with a seller over a bag of legumes. She was so hungry. What harm would it be to snatch a small roll?
A hand grabbed her by the arm and shook her.
“Don’t touch me,” she warned, gripping her cane for protection.
“Slaves must stand behind their master,” a large burly man breathed in Valerie’s ear. “And they only speak if they are spoken to.” With a shove, he let her go.
For heaven’s sake, how was she supposed to know every rule about slaves? Up until two days ago, she was a proper English young lady. She glared at the hulking brute of a man.”
Christos stopped talking and turned around. “You know, I can’t quite place that accent of yours,” he said to her. “Say something else.”
Valerie gaped at him.
The other man thumped her hard on the arm. “Are you
deaf? He said to say something for him.”
Valerie rubbed the spot where he hit her. It was already beginning to turn red and swell. Did this Christos save her from the crowd only to let this man assault her?
She drew herself up, her temper flaring. “Damn you to bloody hell! I’ve had enough abuse from all of you. Is this how visitors to your fine city are treated?” She whacked the heavy cedar cane into the brute’s side with such force, it sent her flying backward.
Christos caught Valerie just before she toppled onto the stone pavement.
The large man took a step forward, hand raised. Christos grabbed him by the forearm before he could strike. His eyes bore into the brute’s. His voice was low as he spoke. “No, Julius. She’s been through enough. Besides, violence only begets violence.”
“She deserves a good beating, Christos. Let me teach her a lesson or two.” He ran his hand over her breasts, grinning at her gasp of outrage. “I’ll break her in real good for you. Make her a slave to be proud of.”
Christos shook his head. “Nay, Julius, she is not to be abused in that way.”
Valerie scowled at the lout. She was tempted to hit him again but knew it would be no use.
Christos turned to Valerie. He cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look into his obsidian eyes.
“Julius is my personal guard. He looks out for me. I would not allow the townspeople to harm you, but I would have to let Julius discipline you if make the mistake of striking him again. Do you understand?”
Valerie jerked away from Christos’s touch and took a step backward. Her eyes narrowed as she shook her head. “I’ll not let any of you touch me again.” She squared her shoulders. “Do you understand me?”
Christos shook his head and laughed. “Sorceress or not, you do have a witch’s fire. If you were a free woman, I’d wager Athena, Goddess of War, would be your patron. Or perhaps Diana, Goddess of the Moon.”
“More like Kronos, God of Time,” Valerie replied with a terse smile as she made circles in the dirt with her cane.
