“So you are no better than the rest of them,” Justin Gabras sneered. “Why is it that all women are born whores?” He did not see how pale the handsome gladiator had become, nor the tightening of the Saxon’s lips and the flash of anger in the Saxon’s eyes at his words.
Without waiting for an answer to his question, Justin Gabras dumped the two women from his lap. “Run into the garden and hide yourselves, my beauties. I will count to fifty, and then loose these lusty beasts on you. Go!”
The two women ran from the room, through the marble pillars, and out into the early evening twilight. When they had gone a ways together into the dimness, Casia stopped a moment and said, “Hide yourself well, Cailin, and do not come out unless you see the Saxon!” Then she was gone down a grassy path. Cailin fled to the depths of the gardens, finally climbing into the branches of a peach tree. It was unlikely that anyone would think to look for her up there.
“Fifty!” she heard Justin Gabras call out.
The gladiators began to thrash through the gardens, noisily seeking the two women. Within a few minutes she heard the rough voice of the Hun crowing triumphantly, “I’ve caught a little rabbit, lads!” and Casia’s coy shriek of false surprise. The hunt for Cailin grew more intense, but she felt safe amid the branches of the tree. She could even see some of the men below, looking under bushes, behind the fountains, and among the decorative statuary for her. They will never find me, she thought smugly, but then what? How could she escape Villa Maxima without her clothes, without a litter? Suddenly the branch upon which she was perched gave way, and Cailin fell with a cry to the grass below. Two men loomed forth from the darkness as she desperately scrambled to her feet. A bolt of pain tore through her right ankle, but she struggled to remain standing.
“Stay back!” she ordered the two men.
“Don’t be afraid, lambkin,” she heard one say, and then, “She is mine, Greek! Touch her, and I’ll kill you!”
“No woman is worth death, Wulf Ironfist,” the man called Greek said, and he faded into the darkness.
“Are you really the most exclusive whore in Byzantium, Cailin Drusus?” Wulf asked her solemnly.
“No,” she said softly, “but you had best treat me as if I were. Your host is my mortal enemy.”
“Can you walk, or is your ankle seriously injured?”
“I twisted it when I fell from the tree,” she answered, “but it is not broken. Nonetheless, you will have to carry me, and I will struggle to escape you. Justin Gabras would think it odd if I did not.”
“Why?” he demanded.
“We will talk when we have found a private spot. Now quickly! Pick me up before someone else comes along and wonders why we are not already engaged in passion’s battle.”
He came to stand directly in front of her and reached out to touch her face. “Antonia said you were dead, and our child, too.”
“I suspected she might have told you that,” Cailin answered.
“I want to know what happened,” he said.
“Wulf! Please!” she pleaded with him. “Not now! Gabras will soon come after us. He is a terrible and dangerous man.”
There were so many questions swirling about in Wulf’s head. How was it she was alive? And here in Byzantium? But he saw the genuine look of fear in her eyes. Reaching out, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. She immediately began to beat at him with her little fists as he carried her through the garden and back to where the others waited.
“Put me down! Put me down, you great brute!” Cailin shrieked. The blood was going to her head and making her dizzy.
“So, our other little rabbit has been caught at last,” she heard Gabras say, and then he came into her line of vision. “You have given us all quite a chase, my dear. Where was she?”
“In a tree,” the Saxon answered. “I wouldn’t have found her at all, but the branch upon which she was perched gave way.”
“I want to see you take her,” Justin Gabras said. “Here. Now!” A goblet of wine was clutched in his hand.
“My public performances are only in the ring,” Wulf Ironfist said quietly.
“I want to see this woman humiliated,” Gabras persisted.
He is dangerous, Wulf thought, and so he replied, “By morning I will have taken this woman in every way possible, and in some ways you have never even considered, my lord. If she is not dead, then she will be incapable of even crawling from the room where we will lie this night.” He turned to Jovian Maxima. “I want a room with no windows so none may be disturbed by her cries. It is to be furnished with a good mattress, and I will want wine. Also a dog whip. Women frequently need to be schooled in their duties, and this woman is too free, I can tell. It is obvious to me she does not know her place, but she will learn it! We Saxons like our females docile, and subservient.”
“By the gods!” Justin Gabras said, a genuine smile lighting his handsome features, “you are a man after my own heart. Give him what he wants, Jovian Maxima! The wench is in good hands.”
A few moments later they were escorted to the same room where Cailin and Casia had earlier been imprisoned. Now, however, the room was newly furnished with a large, comfortable bed upon a dais, several low tables, a pitcher of wine and two goblets, two oil lamps burning sweet-scented oil, a tall floor lamp, and, set at the foot of the mattress, the whip that Wulf had requested.
Jovian, who had accompanied them personally, looked nervously at it, and Wulf grinned at him wickedly.
“Close the door,” the Saxon said softly. “I wish to speak with you.”
Jovian complied with the Saxon’s request, but he looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“Just tell Gabras that I threatened you if we were not granted absolute privacy,” Wulf told the man.
“What is it you want of me, gladiator?” Jovian asked him.
“Tell me the nature of the danger Cailin Drusus faces from Justin Gabras,” Wulf demanded.
“He will use what has happened, what will happen this night, to discredit the lady Cailin before the imperial court and the patriarch, who will then forbid her marriage to General Flavius Aspar. This is what Gabras seeks. The rest the lady Cailin must tell you herself, if you are of a mind to listen to her.”
“He is Wulf Ironfist, my husband,” Cailin said quietly.
“The gods he is!” Jovian Maxima looked thunderstruck, and then he said, “This is the truth, my lady?”
“That is why I came, Jovian,” she admitted. “When I saw him today in the ring, I was not certain. I had to be certain before I pledged my faith to Aspar. Wulf Ironfist and I must speak together now, and then I must remain in this room till the morning. When the dawn comes, however, I beg you to help me return to Villa Mare. And help Casia as well. If we are clever, we can keep this from Prince Basilicus. She loves him, you know.”
Jovian nodded. “Aye, and the prince loves Casia even as she loves him, but he cannot say it to her. He told me once when he was in his cups. When this night is over, I will tell her. It will give her comfort, I think. Now I must leave you both else Gabras become overly suspicious of why I linger here.”
The door closed behind Jovian, and Wulf set the wooden bar into place, which would protect their privacy. Cailin’s heart was beating very quickly. It was really Wulf! With shaking hands she poured two goblets of wine, sipping nervously at hers as he turned back to her and took up his own goblet.