Barbarian Prize

by Deanna Ashford

  ‘What is it?’ She moved even closer to him.

  ‘I came here on a ship, with others captured during the uprising in Brittania. Among them was a young woman, Sirona, the daughter of King Borus of the Icene.’

  ‘And you want to know what happened to her,’ Julia said with understanding. ‘Fear no longer, Taranis. I know that she is safe.’

  ‘You know?’ He struggled to control his sudden surge of emotion.

  ‘Yes. The Governor of Brittania charged my brother with her care. He and Lucius are friends.’

  ‘I don’t understand. She’s your brother’s slave?’

  She stroked his arm reassuringly. ‘Not a slave, Taranis. Lucius treats her as an honoured guest. As long as she remains in his household, she’ll come to no harm.’

  ‘And his wife does not mind?’ He wanted to know all he could, but he dare not ask too much.

  ‘Lucius is not married. He is a soldier; he has never been concerned about finding a wife.’

  A sudden wave of acute jealousy consumed him. So a young, probably rich and very influential man was charged with caring for Sirona. She was beautiful and he was sure that Lucius was bound to be tempted to either force her or lure her into his bed.

  ‘Don’t look so concerned.’ Julia smiled reassuringly at him. ‘Lucius is a kind and noble man and he’ll treat her well. My brother lives just outside the city, so I’ll visit him and find a way to speak to this girl, Sirona. You feel responsible for her safety, I understand that.’

  ‘The King charged me with her care.’ It did not seem wise to tell Julia how involved they had actually been, and that Borus had given his consent to their marriage. He’d hoped to hold the ceremony after the battle had been won, but Agricola had destroyed those plans.

  ‘I’ll tell Sirona that you are safe and well. I can bring any messages she has back to you.’ Then she added with an uneasy shrug of her shoulders, ‘If one believes that being Poppaea’s pleasure slave can be considered safe and well.’

  ‘Be assured that I carry out my duties reasonably willingly,’ he admitted. He found it rather unsettling that Julia was looking at him in a manner not quite befitting his status as a slave. ‘Anyway, my fate does not matter. I’ll survive, I know that, but Sirona . . . I just want to know that she is safe and happy. Thank you so much for doing this for me, Julia.’

  For a moment, he didn’t realise that he’d inappropriately used her given name, neither was it appropriate for him to lean forwards to kiss her cheek, but he did it all the same. However, at that precise moment, Julia turned her head and their mouths made contact. She didn’t pull away. She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. As a surge of unexpected desire flooded his body, Taranis kissed her back, finding the sweetness of her mouth compelling, as their tongues met and intertwined. His hand went to her breasts, stroking them gently through her thin dress.

  Suddenly realising how wrong this was, he forced himself to pull away from her. ‘If only you’d purchased me,’ he found himself saying, as his heart beat loudly in his chest.

  ‘If only.’ She sounded breathless and she was trembling a little, as she shyly lowered her eyes. ‘I wish it all the time.’ Awkwardly, she pleated the fabric of her gown between her fingers. ‘I should never have done that, Taranis, you belong to Poppaea.’

  ‘My body belongs to her, Julia,’ Taranis said softly, as he rose to his feet, wishing he could stay but knowing that he couldn’t. ‘But my heart and my soul are my own.’ Then he turned and walked away from her.

  Sirona sat up and punched her pillows, not wanting to try and go back to sleep for a moment. She’d been having strange, very unsettling dreams that still lingered on the fringes of her mind. She knew why she was feeling so unsettled – who wouldn’t be when Aulus Vettius had turned up at the house unexpectedly only an hour or so after Lucius had departed? She had forced herself to greet him as she would any honoured guest, yet she had felt quite discomfited by his chilly derisive stares and curt almost rude response to her greeting. Perhaps it was just because she’d addressed him in perfect Latin and he’d realised how easily she’d deceived him.

  From then on, she had kept out of his way, as he had walked around the villa giving instructions to the slaves and acting as if he owned the place. Sirona had avoided the senator but not his companion, Tiro. He had sought her out purely because he wanted to know if she was safe and happy. Of course, she had told him that she was fine, and she was certain that he had soon begun to suspect that she and Lucius were lovers. After all, she was wearing fine clothes and expensive jewellery and the slaves treated her more like a mistress than a guest.

  She’d shown Tiro around the villa, while making every effort to ensure that they did not bump into the senator by mistake. Tiro had admired the Nile landscapes in the Tuscan atrium and the tablinum with its newly restored Egyptian fresco. They’d ended up in the huge salon at the rear of the property. It was the only room that Lucius had chosen to leave untouched and she had no idea why. She liked the room because there were the most amazing life-size pictures on the walls. They appeared to tell a story of sorts but, because Lucius had made such a point of avoiding the room whenever he could, she’d never felt comfortable enough to ask him to explain them to her. Tiro told her that they depicted one of the rites of initiation into the Dionysiac mysteries. Not that long before, worship of the god Dionysis had been outlawed by the senate, because the rites included ritual sacrifice, flagellation and all kinds of wild sexual depravity.

  Probably because of what Tiro had told her, Sirona’s dreams had been filled with weird confusing visions of these bizarre rites and they all seemed to involve Aulus Vettius in some way or another. She couldn’t seem to drive the frightening pictures from her mind as she reached for the goblet of water she kept by her bed, but it was empty. It must have been well after midnight, and there was no way she would disturb any of the slaves, so she would go to the kitchen and refill it herself.

  She slipped on a loose robe and left her room. Fortunately, it wasn’t pitch black, as there was a full moon. The moonlight bathed the peristyle in an eerie silvery glow, as she heard the soft clicking noise of the cicadas. Then she became aware of another noise that sounded suspiciously like music. She was supposed to be alone apart from the servants so where was the soft hypnotic music coming from?

  She crept through the rear of the darkened villa, the marble mosaic floor feeling cold against her bare feet, her heart beating loudly in her chest. She reached the huge empty salon, and peered round the heavily embroidered curtain covering the doorway. Then she saw them. At least a dozen or so naked men and women clustered around a tall man wearing a strange mask. There was a dark-haired woman on her knees, her hands bound in front of her and the man was beating her with an ornate whip. It was just like the pictures of the rite of Dionysis that were painted on the walls of this room.

  The music changed; there was a discordant clash of cymbals and a young, beautiful youth stepped forwards. He was naked and wore a wreath of laurel leaves on his long, curly dark-blond hair. In his hand was an ornate crystal goblet filled with a red liquid that could have been wine, or maybe even blood, she thought nervously. He offered the goblet to a male figure, who was half-hidden behind the others.

  The woman who was being whipped appeared to be enjoying it immensely, moaning with pleasure and rubbing her bound hands agitatedly against her breasts. Around her, the others began to touch each other, men caressing men, women caressing women, gender didn’t seem to matter. They started to move in a more frenzied fashion, squeezing bare breasts, rubbing cocks, thrusting between thighs or buttock cheeks. Moans and groans of pleasure punctuated the strange music, as they sank to the floor and began to copulate in every conceivable fashion.

  Sirona’s breathing quickened and she felt her nipples stiffen and her pussy grow wet. Who wouldn’t be excited by this strange sexual ritual? There was an odd odour of what she presumed was incense permeating the night air, and it seemed to se
ep into the pores of her skin, making her think of anything and everything sensual and sexual. She could almost understand why they were doing this, as she saw a woman on all fours being penetrated by a man. Another man, with a stiffly erect oiled penis, knelt behind the couple and fed his cock slowly into the other man’s bobbing anus.

  Sirona couldn’t believe this was happening. She felt as if she too was being consumed by this strange sexual excitement. She pressed her hand against her pussy, half-tempted to creep into the room and join in this frenzy of pure unadulterated lust. Yet it also frightened her a little and a small voice in her head was telling her to run away and not look back.

  Ignoring the voice of reason, at least for the moment, she glanced again at the man wielding the whip. When she did, she realised that he looked disturbingly familiar, even though he was still masked. Of course, it was Aulus Vettius – why else would he have visited the villa yesterday afternoon? Presumably to check that Lucius had left, as planned, for Herculaneum. Had this room been decorated like this purely to facilitate this ceremony? It was, after all, Aulus who had suggested that Lucius buy this place.

  She recalled that Amyria had been a little uneasy when she had bid her goodnight and she had seemed troubled that the key to the bedroom door had gone missing. Had she intended to lock her in, perhaps having discovered what was to happen tonight?

  Sirona decided that it might be wise for her to leave before someone saw her and she was perhaps pulled into the room and forced to take part in this wild sexual depravity. She’d speak to Lucius about this when he returned.

  By all the gods, surely this could not be? Her chest tightened, her breath coming in nervous gasps, as she saw the other masked man, who had remained in the background until now, suddenly step forwards. He was fully aroused and he knelt, as if intending to penetrate the bound woman who had been whipped. Sirona put a hand to her mouth to muffle her gasp of anguish, the masked man looked uncannily like her lover Lucius.

  Sirona didn’t recall how she got back to her room, as she huddled beneath the covers, trying desperately to convince herself that she had been deceived and that under no circumstances could it have been Lucius. The man she knew and had grown very fond of would never have taken part in such a bizarre, illegal ceremony. Lucius worshipped the gods as all Romans did, but in the temples like everyone else. He was close to the Emperor, he was a loyal subject of the Empire and a leader of men; he would never have gone against the rules of the senate. Also, he was far away from here, and he wasn’t due to return until at least noon.

  She closed her eyes, but she was too upset and troubled to sleep. Eventually, she might have dozed for a while because, when she opened her eyes, disturbed by a faint noise, the sky had lightened a little. She heard the sound again, this time much louder, and she realised that someone was in her room. Filled with fear and apprehension, she froze.

  She heard another sound and she wanted to hide under the covers, but she forced herself to lift her head and she saw a dark figure lurching towards her bed. Sirona opened her mouth to scream but her throat had tightened and all she managed was a muffled squeak.

  ‘It’s me,’ a drunken voice grunted. Lucius fell heavily on to the bed. He was naked and he stank of stale wine. All the suspicions she’d tried to suppress rose to the surface again.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked nervously, as he struggled to climb under the covers.

  He rolled closer to her, his hot sweaty skin pressed to hers.

  ‘You said that you wouldn’t be home until noon.’

  ‘Sirona.’ He chuckled. ‘You sound like an angry wife.’ The strong scent of stale wine almost made her gag as he gave her a slobbering, drunken kiss. ‘Couldn’t stay away from you a moment longer, my sweet.’ He shoved a hand between her legs and roughly fingered her sex.

  She didn’t want this but she was aroused just by the familiar touch of his probing fingers. ‘Lucius, please!’ She tried to protest, but he silenced her with another drunken kiss, and this time she barely tasted the wine on his hot breath, as he devoured her with his mouth. Sirona tried to push him away, still full of suspicions. ‘Leave me alone, you’re drunk.’

  He gave a husky laugh and rolled on top of her, nudging her thighs apart with his knee. ‘Can’t be drunk if I can do this,’ he mumbled, as his hard cock pressed against her pussy lips. Then he thrust it inside her, even though she was nowhere near moist enough for penetration. ‘So hot so tight,’ he groaned, ignoring her gasps of discomfort, as began to pound into her.

  ‘No, damn you.’ She dug her nails into his muscular shoulders, and thumped him on the chest.

  With a chuckle of amusement, he let his full weight fall on to her, pinning her down, as he grabbed hold of her flailing arms and forced them above her head. ‘My sweet barbarian, I adore you,’ he mumbled into her ear. ‘When you fight me like this, it excites me even more.’

  His mouth roved her breasts, licking and kissing at her nipples. He fastened his lips around one and sucked on it hard. The strong pulling sensation and the feel of his cock buried inside her increased her excitement, and she no longer had the strength or will to fight him. She gave a soft moan, as his body began to move, screwing her slowly and sensually.

  She caressed his chest, her fingers reaching for his nipples. As she pulled at the firm paps, Lucius lifted himself on to his arms and began to pound into her. Sirona dug her fingers into his muscular flesh, no longer in resistance but purely to urge him onwards, as his movements became harder and rougher. The entire bed was shaking with the wild strength of his thrusts, while Sirona’s mind was suddenly filled with the visions of numerous naked bodies, fucking and rutting in every conceivable way in the worship of Dionysis. It was as if the strange lecherous god had somehow worked his way inside her head. She began to enjoy even more the raw power of Lucius’s body pounding into hers, consumed by a fever of carnal desire she’d never known before.

  Her pleasure peaked and she climaxed, as she heard Lucius give a grunt of bliss, and he came, his cock pumping wildly inside her. Sirona lay there, too overcome and exhausted to move, as he rolled off her and slumped by her side. Within moments, he was fast asleep, snoring softly beside her. But her mind was still full of wild suspicions and no matter how hard she tried she could not sleep again that night.

  Poppaea was holding one of her special dinner parties and she had invited all the most important men in the city. Apart from the female house slaves, the only women present were a few of Poppaea’s less salubrious friends and a couple of Famosae – they were whores from well-off families who only sold their bodies to powerful, influential citizens.

  It was the first time that Taranis had laid eyes on Aulus Vettius and Gaius Cuspius since that humiliating night before he’d been sold, and even looking at the two men made him feel very uncomfortable. Poppaea didn’t like Gaius overmuch but he was an aedile, so she felt she had to include him, especially as the three other magistrates who ran the city had also accepted her invitations to be here.

  Poppaea’s honoured guest was the most important man in Pompeii, Cnaius Alleus Nigidus Maius, a former chief magistrate with censorial powers. Poppaea had told Taranis that Cnaius had many influential friends in Rome and was in some circles even more powerful than Aulus Vettius. He had personally funded numerous gladiatorial spectacles in the city and only just recently a statue of him had been erected in the forum.

  Cnaius had been staring thoughtfully at Taranis for some time. Suddenly, he leant across the table separating Poppaea’s couch from his. ‘Your slave Taranis should be in the arena. He is a strong and seasoned warrior. A brilliant fighter, so I’ve heard. He’d be the perfect centrepiece for my next games.’

  ‘A gladiator?’ Poppaea exclaimed in horror. ‘My beautiful Taranis in the arena – never!’ She turned to look at Taranis who stood by her side dressed in a tunic of the most expensive and finest white wool, decorated with thick gold embroidery at the hem and sleeves.

  ‘I could ask the slave wha
t he thinks,’ Cnaius said with a teasing smile. ‘Perhaps he’d prefer the excitement of the games to this pampered servile existence.’

  ‘I speak for him,’ Poppaea said tersely. ‘He has no wish to fight for his life, perhaps die in the arena. Is that not so, Taranis?’ she said, looking up at him. He bent his head respectfully towards her, as she added, ‘It is far more comfortable in my bed, is it not?’

  Poppaea brushed her lips across his cheek and the tender gesture was not lost on Cnaius or Aulus, who was sitting next to her.

  ‘Yes, my lady,’ Taranis replied. ‘I live only to serve you,’ he added, thinking those fawning words would please her even more.

  She smiled dotingly at him. ‘I’m getting a little chilly. Fetch me a shawl.’

  As Taranis walked away, he heard Aulus say coldly, ‘You are far too indulgent with that slave. Look at him, he’s dressed as finely as any leading citizen.’

  Taranis did not hear what Poppaea said in reply. He hurried through the villa and climbed the stairs to her room. He found Aulus a very unpleasant individual. There was a cruelty hidden under the smooth senatorial veneer, and he could easily understand why Julia feared him so much. His thoughts lingered on Julia, as they often did these last few days. He’d not yet found the opportunity to see her again, even though he was desperate for news of Sirona.

  After finding a suitable shawl, he made his way downstairs again. He was just walking towards the tablinum when, quite unexpectedly, a short fat man stepped out in front of him, barring his way. ‘Taranis,’ Gaius said thickly.

  Taranis stared uncomfortably at the fat, sweaty red-faced man. He couldn’t push rudely past one of Poppaea’s guests, so he just stood there saying nothing.

  ‘It’s good to see you again and you look so well, so handsome.’ Gaius lecherously licked his lips and stepped closer to Taranis. ‘Not as handsome as you did stark naked, with that glorious cock sticking out from your groin.’ He grabbed hold of Taranis’s arm. ‘I was so happy when Poppaea invited me here. I’ve been hoping that tonight she might be persuaded to share you around a little.’