Her Roman's Hand Page 4

  “Quis est?”

  He angled his head, studying her, then reached out to capture one of her breasts in his hand. She slapped it away, her body shaking.

  His mouth tightened, his eyes narrowed. Then he ripped her bra, tearing the lacy cups in two.

  Lyla stood before the men, her naked chest on display. She gathered her shredded bra and tank top, trying desperately to cover her nakedness.

  He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her forward then fondled her breasts, roughly pinching her nipples.

  She fell to her knees. The other men laughed, the sound grating on her nerves and dignity. The man with the whip wrenched her to her feet. He looked her right in the eyes while he pinched her breasts.

  Anger suddenly replaced her earlier emotions. It rose to the surface, making her face contort with rage.

  “Fuck off!” Lyla yelled, then spat at him.

  Her spittle landed on his nose and chin.

  She saw him raise his lash, and flung her arm across her face to shield it. The whip’s tip dug into the soft, fleshy part beneath her upper arm.

  She slid to the ground, cupping the wound he’d inflicted while sharp, hot pain knifed through her.

  One man pulled her to her feet. Then two of them shoved and pushed her from the room, and down a narrow corridor.

  The final humiliation came when they forced her into a cage. The bars rattled, then she heard the scraping of metal against metal.

  They shackled her hands to the bars, making sure her arms remained above her head so they could view her half-naked form.

  In the distance, she heard moaning and crying. The sounds tore at her heart. When her eyes adjusted to the inky darkness, she could make out other women chained inside cages just like hers.

  The sobs grew louder.

  Then she realised…

  They came from her.

  * * * *

  “Excellency, wait!” Decimus grabbed his master’s arm, bringing him to a halt. I cannot allow my master to carry on this way. He will be the talk of the city for days to come.

  A fierce, protective feeling rose inside Decimus. It had always been there, ever since his master was a boy, but now, the stakes were higher. His master was full grown and heir to a large fortune, a fortune many would attempt to steal if they knew his master had gone insane.

  “Excellency, you are running through the streets like a madman. Why?”

  “I need to find a woman, Decimus. Now.”

  Decimus’ shorter legs doubled their pace to keep up with his master’s longer strides. “Is that all?” Decimus rolled his eyes. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” He pulled him aside. In a low voice, he said. “If you want a woman, I will secure one for you. Just tell me the price and description and I’ll—”

  “Not that kind of woman, Decimus. I’m looking for a particular one, with long, pale hair. About this high.” He raised his hand, palm down, right near Decimus’ head. “She’s about your height.”

  Decimus’ eyes scanned the crowded street. “I will do as you bid, but let’s not stand here discussing it. You’re already getting some very curious looks since you took off running.”

  “Decimus, I don’t have time to waste. I need to search for her. This woman is special, she’s—”

  “I understand, Master.” Decimus gripped his arm and drew him inside a dimly lit tavern, where groups of loud, boisterous men diced and gambled at small tables.

  Half-naked women strode around with goblets, their heavy breasts swaying from side to side. They served the patrons of the dingy tavern, but never took their eyes from Decimus and his tall companion.

  “We can talk in here, Master.”

  “I don’t want to talk! I need to find this woman. It’s important.”

  Decimus signalled a serving girl. “Wine,” Decimus ordered. “For my master and me.” He tossed a few coins on the table.

  She scooped them up and gave a saucy wink, then walked away. A few minutes later, she returned with two goblets and placed them down on the table.

  “Is she to your liking?” Decimus queried.

  She turned on her heel and walked away, but gave a backward glance over her shoulder.

  The master gazed at her retreating back and shook his head. “You don’t understand.” He took a sip from his cup and spat out a dark liquid stream. “This wine is horrible, Decimus.” He plunked the goblet down on the table.

  Decimus’ eyes darted around the room. He lowered his voice. “We’re not here for the, uh, excellent vintage, Master.”

  “I’ll say.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “We’re here so that we can have privacy while you explain everything to me.”

  That earned Decimus a dark look from the master.

  “Excellency, I need to understand so that I may get you what you desire.”

  He sighed. “It’s not what I desire, it’s what I need to do.”

  “Of course.” Decimus’ mouth lifted in a knowing grin.

  “This is useless.” The master rose to his feet. “I’m leaving. If you’d like to help, fine. Otherwise, go home.”

  Decimus pulled him back down into the chair, surprised at his own strength despite his age. A sour look filled the master’s face. He stayed in the chair, but it seemed as though he did so reluctantly. The master’s shoulders slumped.

  “Master, why do you look so troubled?”

  He lifted his head, his eyes bleak. “Decimus, I need you to swear to me that what I’m about to tell you will stay in the strictest confidence.” The master spoke in a hushed tone.

  “It will, Excellency. You can trust me.”

  The master blew out a breath. “I thought I could fool myself, but no more.” He glanced at Decimus, lowering his eyes. “You must think me very strange.”

  Decimus shrugged. “I cannot say.”

  “I wish you would. This is a time for truth, not mincing words.”

  “All right, then let me say this—you have been acting odd. Not just today, but for a long time. You disappear for days, sometimes months.”

  The master scrubbed a hand over his face. “For a while, I thought I dreamt things, but now I realise these places I’ve been to do not spring from my imagination. I’ve actually been to them.”

  Silence stretched between them. Then Decimus spoke. “I had a similar conversation once, with your father.”

  He looked at him sharply. “You did?”

  “When you were a little boy, your father used to leave your mother, and you, for long periods of time. He claimed he travelled all over the empire on business, but one day, I found him in straights similar to yours.” Decimus nodded. “He wound up back home dressed in odd clothing.”

  “That happened to me this morning.”

  “I know, Excellency.”

  The master’s brows rose.

  “Nothing escapes me, Excellency. I served your father in the same capacity as I serve you now. My knowledge gives me power—the power to aid you. The more I hear and know, the more I can assist you.”

  “I came back dressed in that strange attire because I didn’t have time to prepare myself properly to journey back home.” He lowered his eyes. “I, uh, was distracted.”

  Decimus leant back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest and grinned. “By this woman you’re so determined to find?” I’d like to meet her—this woman, one tiny female who holds my master so enthralled.

  “She slipped through the portal.”

  Decimus snapped his brows together. “What is this ‘portal’?”

  “It is an opening, a way into the future…and the past.” He continued on, the words spilling quickly from his mouth, “You get to the future, or the past, by stroking a stone embedded in something called a ‘book’.”

  Decimus rubbed a hand beneath his chin. “You’ve been doing what your father used to do. I suspected as much.”

  “You know about my father’s actual journeys?” The master raised both bro
ws.

  “Besides your mother, it was I who knew what your father really did,” Decimus replied. “Did you get that bump on your recent, uh, trip?”

  The master fingered the bruise on his head. “Yes.”

  “This is the problem I foresee, Excellency. You wake this morning in strange clothing. You speak about a book, something not known in this time.”

  “Books are wondrous things, Decimus.”

  It had been a long time since Decimus heard excitement in his master’s voice.

  “Imagine many scrolls bound together revealing a marvellous story or filled with facts you could learn.” The master sat back in his chair. “I often wonder how my father acquired such a reading instrument, but since I’ve been to the future, I see books all the time. I even sell them, can you believe it?” A corner of his mouth lifted. “Me, a merchant.” He thumbed his chest. “I never thought I’d enjoy doing something like that, but I do.

  Decimus looked around. “If I were you, I’d keep that to myself.”

  “No one knows but you.”

  “Your problems will multiply if you act like a wild man, a man of your station, telling all the world that you’ve been to the future, where you labour.” Decimus shook his head. “And do not run through the streets telling everyone you need a woman.”

  The master’s face grew red. Whether it was from embarrassment or anger, Decimus did not know, or care. He had his master’s welfare on his mind.

  Decimus leant forward and drummed his fingers on the table. “This book, tell me more about it.”

  “The book’s cover I referred to contains a rare gem—”

  “Ah, yes. The ‘gemma’. Orange, with deep, red hues?”

  The master frowned. “You know about that?”

  “Your father mined those gems secretly. He claimed he saw strange beings from a faraway placed called a ‘distant planet’ bury them here underground. The gems held a secret power. You could get to the future, or go backwards in time by stroking those stones in a certain way.” Decimus ran a finger around the rim of his goblet. “But your father’s mining efforts turned up one rare, orange-coloured gemma. It became very dear to him.”

  “That’s probably why he hid it in the book.” Dejection crossed the master’s face.

  “Are you upset, Excellency?”

  “I, uh, no.” He shook his head. “Not at all.”

  He lies, mostly, to himself. “I believe your father feared that someone might take the magic stone from him.” Decimus lowered his voice. “You know how your fellow citizens view magic. To them, it is like power, and if you have power and they do not, they feel they must take it from you…by treachery.”

  The master rubbed his forehead. “Then you see why I must find that book, and the woman. She took the book with her when she fell into the portal.”

  “And that’s when you went after her.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “She stroked that stone and opened the gateway to the past. I just hope she is not hurt or lost in another time.”

  “If that book was so important, why did you let her handle it?”

  The master’s face tightened. Decimus knew he was angry, but reasoned he’d rather see that than devastation on his master’s face.

  “Because I thought with my loins instead of my head!”

  Decimus bit down on his lower lip to stop his grin.

  “I see you smiling, Decimus, so just stop.” His master’s voice held grim notes. His face was serious, while his tone was light. He often did that to cover his true feelings.

  Ah, so that’s it! It is the woman. She’s got him by the balls, and yet, I sense something else.

  Decimus nodded. “Go home, Excellency. Wait there. I will make some discreet inquiries. She could very well be here in the city. I will endeavour to find out.”

  The master rose to his feet and placed a hand on Decimus’ shoulder. “Say nothing about the book, or that stone.”

  “Fear nothing, Excellency.”

  “Decimus, you have no idea how scared I am.”

  * * * *

  Lyla was terrified.

  She couldn’t feel her wrists anymore. A cold numbness permeated every pore of her body. She forced saliva down her throat, hoping it would quench her thirst.

  She had to pee, too.

  Tremors racked her body. She shuddered, trying to stem her body’s need to relieve itself.

  Light from the torches on the walls surrounding her cage brought her surroundings into view.

  Her captors sat on the filthy pavement, playing a dice game. Occasionally, one of them would look at her. Sometimes, they’d make crude gestures, like grabbing their cocks and pointing them at her and the other women. Then they’d laugh.

  She wanted to die.

  One man tossed his dice against a nearby wall and rose to his feet.

  He walked over where a young, dark-skinned woman was shackled in the same way as Lyla. He opened the door to the cage and unfastened the woman’s hands.

  She dropped to the ground and whimpered in pain, rubbing her chafed wrists.

  The man yanked her to her feet. Then he fondled her breasts.

  The woman stood there, silent, but Lyla saw the tears running down her face.

  He called to his companions.

  Bile rose in Lyla’s throat. She yanked on her chains in an attempt to free herself.

  The other men walked over and joined him.

  Lyla sucked in a breath and watched, horrified and helpless, while two men turned the woman around and bent her forward. The man with the scar running across his eye stood behind her. He lifted the woman’s filthy dress, revealing her naked ass.

  He exposed his cock, then pushed it against the woman’s backside

  “Stop it!” Lyla shouted. She twisted and pulled at the manacles that secured both her hands.

  The young woman cried, the sound pitiful.

  Crack!

  For just a second, Lyla thought she heard a gun shot.

  Crack!

  That short, beady-eyed man walked in, holding a large whip. Its thin, willowy, metal-tipped lashes landed on the back of the man who had the scar running across his eye.

  Odd thoughts filled her mind. She suddenly remembered her conversation with Mark in the bookstore.

  “That particular punishment instrument is an early form of a whip known as a flagrum.”

  “Must’ve hurt.”

  “Not as much as the later version. That one had metal tips attached to the lashes…”

  She was pulled back to reality when the man yelped in pain, turning blazing eyes on his assaulter, but then he backed away.

  The other men soon followed.

  The man who held the whip shouted at the other men, his voice booming. He shoved the dark girl back in her cage, shackling her. Her sobs grew broken, her body sagging against the bars.

  The man in charge hit the scarred man with the whip’s handle. The force of the blow made him reel backwards into a wall.

  He cracked the whip again and shouted orders. Then he pointed at Lyla, and spoke rapidly, but she didn’t understand a word he said.

  A stream of warm water inched down her leg.

  The man with the whip watched her wet her shorts, then he laughed, the sound rough and cruel.

  He walked over to her cage and reached in through the bars, flicking one of her nipples with his index finger. To make matters worse, he rubbed two fingers between her legs, the damp material of her underwear and shorts scraping against her tender flesh.

  She couldn’t stop shaking, his touch repugnant, but she’d be damned if she’d do anything else to humiliate herself before this horrible creature. Lyla called on every ounce of strength she possessed to stop her bladder from completely unleashing itself.

  He stared at her naked chest, but she refused to cower. He nodded his head, a slow smile spreading across his ugly little face.

  She sagged against the bars when he and his men left.

  Time crept by.


  Lyla didn’t know how long she stood shackled to the inside of the cage, her arms high above her head. She took short, shallow breaths, unable to get deep air into her lungs.

  She slumped back against the bars despair filling her. Her one thought was if she got away from this terrible place, she’d kill every one of these men, and wouldn’t bat an eye doing it.

  Chapter Four

  Later, the sun dipped further towards the horizon, yet it still blazed as the hour of three rolled around. The atrium was secluded, little used now except for when his Excellency met with dignitaries and other important people. Here, no one would bother him, thinking he had some important, surreptitious meeting. Unlike his less formal courtyard, he could remain here, unbothered by the servants.

  Inside the small space, he paced, reminding himself to remain calm, and let Decimus discover what he could. The wily, old servant knew his way around the city and its gossip better than he did.

  Time had him on a leash, forcing him to wait for Decimus to return with news.

  If Decimus didn’t arrive soon, he’d go back to searching for the woman himself, and the consequences be damned! Let his fellow citizens think him mad…

  Decimus’ voice brought his frenzied walk to a halt. “Master, I have news about the woman.”

  He strode over to his steward. “What is it?”

  “Rumours are rife today.”

  He sighed, his voice filled with derision. “When isn’t our grand city not filled with hearsay?”

  “I’ve heard that there is to be a special sale today at the Graecostadium.”

  Blood pounded in his ears. His heart raced.

  “One woman is Nubian, the other, a vibrant redhead, and the last is carbasaorum.”

  “Carbasaorum?” He gripped Decimus’ shoulders. “Are you sure the woman has flaxen hair?”

  Decimus nodded. “Positive. I’ve heard she speaks in a strange tongue, also.”

  He could no longer contain his excitement. Hope sprang, like the waters that rose from the magnificent, tiered fountain they stood next to.

  “Excellency, have you considered that this woman may not be the one you search for?”

  “If I think that way, then all is lost. Whether or not she is the woman I seek, I would hate to see any woman subjected to Corvus.”