After she had climaxed, the people pulled away from her and Sirona felt a sharp searing pain as a lash hit her back. Aulus paused, allowing everything to come back into some kind of focus, before he hit her again. It hurt, yet the pain only served to intensify the delicious heat still simmering in her groin. With each painful stroke of the lash came a rush of pleasure, until her pussy became so wet that the moisture seeped from her vagina and ran down her inner thighs.
Sirona was way beyond anything she had known before, as she was overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure, until they combined into one perfect point of bliss buried deep inside her vagina. Each stroke now making her jerk and moan, as she soared towards orgasm again. Suddenly, the whipping stopped and Aulus knelt down beside her. The features of his gold mask swam before her eyes, as she heard him say, ‘I always knew that you were a dirty little whore. Once I’ve come, I’m going to slit your throat.’
Nothing seemed to matter any more, as she felt his hands touch her buttocks. Despite the warmth of the room, his hands were chillingly cold, as was his cock, as it slid deep inside her.
Suddenly, from a great distance Sirona heard angry shouts. Aulus was pulled bodily away from her, and she felt someone untying her hands. She blinked in confusion, as Tiro placed a cloak around her naked body and gently pulled her upright. ‘Can you stand, Sirona?’ he asked. ‘You have to try. You’ve been drugged.’
She nodded, unable to speak, her tongue refusing to work properly. Meanwhile, all around her, chaos reigned. There were soldiers struggling with the naked worshippers, who were biting and kicking insanely. So far, the soldiers hadn’t used weapons but, after enduring a few moments of mayhem, some drew their swords in frustration and used the pommels to hit their insane attackers on their heads.
Meanwhile, Aulus and his masked companion had grabbed the two ceremonial daggers from the makeshift altar. The masked man screamed angrily, as he attacked one of the soldiers, while Aulus made straight for the man in command of the soldiers.
‘Lucius,’ Sirona gasped, able to speak at last, as Aulus, screaming like a man demented, flung himself at Lucius. He staggered back in surprise, as his stepfather tried to plunge the dagger into his throat. Lucius grabbed on to Aulus’s wrist, trying to force the deadly blade away from his neck.
‘Don’t worry, Lucius will handle this,’ Tiro said reassuringly, as Sirona stared at the two men struggling together.
The muscles on his arms bulging, Lucius forced the blade away from him and towards Aulus. Having no wish to kill his own stepfather, Lucius suddenly bent his head and butted him hard. Aulus slipped to the floor, while just above them came an ominous cracking sound. Lucius just managed to leap away from the falling beams, masonry and tiles, as part of the roof collapsed, burying Aulus completely. Three-quarters of the ceiling remained in place, but it looked decidedly dangerous, as if it were about to collapse at any moment.
Striding forwards, Lucius pulled Sirona into his arms. ‘We have to leave now, my love.’
‘The servants?’ she just managed to say, as the full horror of all this at last hit her.
‘One of my men is making sure that they leave with us right now, Sirona. I don’t know how much time we’ve got to get to a place of safety,’ he said gently, as he lifted her trembling body into his arms.
While Julia and Borax had gone to visit Pomponianus, Taranis and his companions had taken refuge in an abandoned villa. There was a reasonable amount of food and plenty of wine left in the house so they made themselves comfortable, relieved to have somewhere to rest for a while. The scantily dressed females they’d picked up en route were exceptionally busy and were all too happy to accommodate as many of the gladiators as they could. There were patient lines of men outside every bedroom of the villa.
Time passed and Taranis became concerned, as Julia and Borax had still not returned. The rockfall had resumed now but this time the stones raining down on Stabiae were heavier, denser and a dark-grey colour. Then the earth tremors started again. Ignoring the brothel-like moans and groans coming from the adjoining rooms, Taranis glanced anxiously up at the ceiling, as he heard the timbers creaking. The villa was fairly new and reasonably well constructed but some of the stones were large enough to smash the thick roof tiles and he knew that eventually the entire thing would give way under the combined weight of the stones.
He was just about to go and look for Julia when the door burst open and three people hurried through the atrium into the main salon. If the situation hadn’t been serious, Taranis might have laughed, as all three of them had pillows strapped to their heads.
‘Admiral Pliny suggested that the shield Borax was carrying might not provide us with enough protection. This was his idea,’ Julia explained breathlessly as she untied the ribbon and the pillow dropped to the floor.
She sat down beside Taranis and he slipped an arm around her shoulder as he gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek. ‘I was worried.’
‘We were invited to dine with Pomponianus and Admiral Pliny,’ she explained.
‘Galen?’ Taranis exclaimed, as the third man unwound the flimsy scarf that had been covering his face.
‘I was dining with the Admiral as well. It was quite by chance that I stopped here. I was planning to take a boat to Neaopolis,’ Galen said, as Julia clutched nervously on to Taranis as the earth shook again.
‘Better here than in Pompeii,’ Taranis said, as Galen sat down on the floor opposite him.
‘The Admiral and I compared observations,’ Galen explained. Pliny was a famous scholar who’d written numerous books on a variety of subjects. ‘We had both read of something similar to this happening in Sicily, but hadn’t made the connection until now because the first phases of the phenomena had been rather dissimilar. Mount Etna has belched rocks, fire and eventually great rivers of red-hot matter on a number of occasions. Each time the destruction was terrible but Etna is in a relatively unpopulated area.’
‘You think that might happen here?’ Taranis asked, recalling the fires on the slopes of Vesuvius.
‘Yes,’ said Galen in all seriousness. ‘I fear that might be so. Mother Earth is, however, highly unpredictable.’ He put a hand to his head and rubbed it thoughtfully. ‘Sulphur appears to play some part in this and I smelt sulphur earlier in the day.’
‘Then damn the stones and the stormy waters, we must leave immediately.’ Taranis sprang to his feet, pulling Julia up with him. ‘Leod.’ He saw the red-headed Briton standing patiently by the door of a bedroom, waiting his turn. ‘Gather the men together, we must leave now. According to Galen, this could get worse, far worse.’
No one protested. If it hadn’t been for Taranis, they’d all still be locked in their cells. After donning their armour and helmets, they followed him down to the beach. Most of the refugees were sheltering beneath strips of sailcloth or quickly constructed wooden shelters, as the stones continued to rain down on them. All of a sudden, the earth shook again and there was a strange cracking sound. They could not see more than a few arm lengths in front of their faces, but they knew that the roofs of the villas ringing the beach were collapsing one by one.
The fall of rock ebbed and flowed a shade, just enabling Taranis to see a small vessel bobbing up and down on the waves not that far out to sea. Ignoring the stones raining down on him, Taranis stripped off his armour and removed his helmet. ‘Olin, Leod,’ he called. ‘We need to swim to that boat.’
Once they’d stripped down to their tunics, all three men battled through the waves crashing against the shore. They passed the foaming crests where the water became deeper, and they swam towards the small boat. It bobbed vigorously up and down on the waves and, as they climbed into the vessel, it began to sink lower and lower into the sea. Finding themselves almost knee deep in stones, they began to shovel as many as they could into the water. Once it was stable, they grabbed the oars and raised the anchor. They didn’t have to row very hard before the waves caught hold of them and carried th
em swiftly towards the shore.
Taranis winced as he heard the bottom of the boat grate against the pumice, but the rock was reasonably soft and he hoped would do little damage. After jumping out of the boat, he ran towards his men.
‘I have to leave you here for a short while,’ he told Julia. ‘I think all the large ships, further out to sea, are military vessels. The Admiral probably left men on board to guard the ships and to keep shovelling pumice off the decks to stop them sinking under the weight.’ He beckoned to one of the more seasoned gladiators from Thrace. ‘No armour, just weapons,’ he ordered. ‘Pick out at least a dozen of our best fighters and come with me.’
Taranis stood on the prow of his captured vessel watching the two small boats make their way back to shore through the rough dangerous seas. They’d commandeered another rowing boat because one was not enough to ferry his men quickly to this liburnium. They had encountered little or no resistance to their takeover of this vessel; most of the sailors had been too scared of the menacing-looking gladiators to even attempt to fight them. The ship had been listing dangerously, weighed down by the weight of the pumice, while the crew, bereft of any senior officers, had crouched below decks praying to the gods for deliverance.
There had been no need for Taranis to give his men any orders after they had secured the vessel. All of them had known exactly what to do. A couple had rowed back to the beach to pick up their comrades and find another small boat, while the others had started to shovel the pumice from the decks until the libernium slowly righted itself. Now the vessel moved listlessly at anchor in a never-ending sea of stone.
All but the last few men were on board now, as well as the people they had rescued from the beach, along with the sailors who had chosen to remain on board the commandeered vessel. Those who had no wish to remain had been taken to join the Admiral on the shore. Taranis wanted no slave labour on this ship. If needs be, he and the other gladiators would work the oars. It wouldn’t be easy, he knew that, but in the far north men had managed to navigate their way through seas nearly covered in ice, so why couldn’t they make their way through a sea of stone?
‘Taranis.’ Julia moved to his side, doing her best to ignore the small lumps of pumice still raining down on them.
‘I thought I told you to remain below deck.’ He smiled. ‘And where’s your cushion,’ he added teasingly.
They had passed Admiral Pliny on the beach when he had returned to collect Julia. The overweight, elderly Roman had looked a little comical with a cushion tied to his head. The man had stubbornly refused to let his boats put to sea carrying the refugees, insisting anxiously that it was far too dangerous. He had shouted and complained when he had realised that Taranis and his gladiator friends had appropriated a military vessel, but none of those with Pliny, not even the officers, had made any attempts to stop them.
‘The colour doesn’t suit me,’ Julia said with a wicked grin.
Taranis removed his helmet and plonked it on her head. It was far too big and fell forwards, half-covering her eyes. ‘Much better, we’ll make a gladiator of you yet.’ He didn’t know how prophetic those words were because not that long into the future women would begin fighting in the arena.
He put an arm around Julia, holding her close. The rockfall was lessening again, just like it had before. ‘The boats, will we be able to take on all the refugees?’ Julia asked him anxiously.
‘As many as we can, but Galen says that this must be the last trip. I trust his judgement, Julia. Next come the rivers of fire, so he says.’
The small boats were returning, packed to the gunnels with weeping women, screaming children and men trying to appear brave for the sake of their families.
‘Look,’ Julia said. The fires on Vesuvius were very visible now, even in the gloom, flickering orange-red sheets of flame pouring down the mountain towards Herculaneum.
Sirona would have left there hours earlier, Taranis told himself, as he watched Mother Nature take her revenge on the Romans. Meanwhile, gladiators were rushing to one side of the vessel to help the last load of terrified refugees on board. Above them, the sky had started to lighten a little as dawn tried to force its way through the enveloping clouds. With the light came more fire, sweeping down the sides of Vesuvius. Even from this distance, they could smell burning and the acrid odour of sulphur.
Leaving Julia to help with the refugees, Taranis walked to the rear of the vessel, knowing that it would take at least two men to hold the rudder in place. The gladiators joined the seamen at the oars, while a young boy moved to the drum and began to thump it in a steady beat. Terrifyingly slowly, the vessel turned away from Stabiae and headed towards the open sea.
Julia stood with Admiral Pliny’s sister on the terrace of his villa, set high in the hills above the harbour at Misenum. Two days had passed since they’d docked here, the liburnium packed to the gunnels with traumatised refugees.
Taranis had found a small chest of silver coins in the captain’s cabin and had distributed them among the gladiators. With luck, it would be enough to help them reach a place of safety, where they could live as free men again. Not knowing what else to do, Julia had suggested they stay with her friend, who was also called Julia. She’d welcomed them with open arms and they’d spent the last two days recovering from their ordeal.
No one in Misenum knew that Taranis was a slave, as Julia had introduced him as a citizen from Gaul. Everyone had been too swept up in the terrible events to question him or the fact she and Taranis shared a bedchamber and were obviously lovers. In fact, he had been publicly lauded for helping so many people escape.
Julia’s friend had a son, Gaius Plinius, who was still only in his teens but was very close to his uncle. He had insisted on travelling to Stabiae on the first rescue ship to set out after the huge dark cloud had dispersed, and Taranis had volunteered to accompany him. The ship had docked not that long earlier and the two women waited nervously, as they watched Taranis and young Gaius climb the steps to the terrace. As soon as they saw their faces, they knew it was not good news.
Young Gaius was carrying a thick sheaf of papers they’d found on the beach – his uncle’s carefully written account of the strange manifestations. ‘He’s gone,’ he said sadly. Julia put a comforting arm around her friend’s shoulders. ‘It was strange, he just looked as though he was asleep,’ young Gaius added, glancing up at Taranis.
‘They all did,’ Taranis added. ‘All the people who remained at Stabiae perished. Galen thinks it was the sulphurous gases that killed them.’ He turned to look at the distant mountain. The sharp peak had disappeared and now there was a deep hollow at the summit. ‘As far as we could tell, both Pompeii and Herculaneum have been wiped from the face of the earth.’ His voice faltered a little and she knew that he was thinking of Sirona and Lucius.
‘Come, Gaius,’ Pliny’s sister said to her son. ‘Let’s sit a while and you can tell me everything.’ They walked off to mourn their loss together.
Once they were alone, Julia said, ‘They’ll have escaped, I’m certain.’
‘You’ve had no news?’
‘Not yet.’ She had managed to remain far more positive than Taranis. ‘Most probably they escaped by sea. People fled in all directions. It may take some time until we know they are safe.’
‘Time I cannot afford, Julia,’ Taranis said. ‘More and more people are arriving from Pompeii, someone is sure to recognise me.’
‘I know. We need to leave here soon. I have land in Spain. As soon as I can make arrangements, we can travel there.’
‘You’d give up your life here for me?’ He pulled her close. ‘I can’t ask you to do that, Julia.’
‘But I want to,’ she insisted.
‘Julia,’ Pliny’s sister shouted anxiously, as she hurried on to the terrace.
Taranis tensed, as he caught sight of the people following her: a marine centurion and half a dozen soldiers. They made straight for Taranis, as Julia clutched nervously on to his arm. ‘Run?’ she sugg
ested.
‘Impossible,’ he said regretfully, as the men grabbed hold of him.
‘Taranis of Gaul,’ the centurion said curtly. ‘You are under arrest.’ The centurion looked apologetically at Julia. ‘We have reason to believe, my lady, that this man is an escaped slave masquerading as a citizen of Rome.’
Sirona shivered and pulled her cloak even tighter around her body. Three months had passed since they’d escaped from Pompeii and it was winter now. She’d never expected it to be so cold this far south. Pompeii was just a painful memory now and a lot had happened since then. Less than a week after they’d reached the safety of Rome, Lucius had been ordered to Illyrum to act as a temporary governor, until Titus had decided what changes would be made in his new administration. Sirona had gone with him, not knowing whether Taranis was alive or dead.
‘It’s too cold out here.’ Lucius strode on to the terrace of the villa he’d rented on the outskirts of the city, looking very impressive in his military uniform. ‘Come inside, Sirona.’
She followed him back into the villa, surprised as always that it was so warm. With its underfloor heating and glass windows, it was the height of luxury.
‘Do you know when the ceremony will be?’ she asked Lucius.
‘No.’
Less than a week before, they’d returned to Rome because Titus had recently arranged a very auspicious union for his young protégé. Lucius was highly honoured, he was marrying into the Imperial family. He was now betrothed to Titus’s youngest niece, Drusilla. Despite his affection for Sirona, Lucius had not thought to refuse the Emperor’s offer, as his career was more important to him than anything else.
‘Are you sure you won’t change your mind?’ he pressed. Lucius wanted her to remain his mistress. He’d offered to buy her a large house in the city so that their liaison could continue, albeit a little more discreetly.
Barbarian Prize Page 23
