Elissa groaned at the sweet sensations, feeling her excitement rising. She pushed Stathis onto his back and straddled him. Taking his penis in her hand, she slid it into herself and started to ride him. Neither of them lasted long, Stathis because of his youth and Elissa because it had been so long since her last time. Elissa’s orgasm washed over her, and then just as she saw the boy groan, she dismounted him, his seed spurting over himself, a look of combined pleasure and frustration on his face.
Elissa instructed the slave to leave and clean himself up, and lay on her back on the bed, a slight sheen of sweat making her skin glisten. Her racing heart and breathing gradually slowed, and she closed her eyes, relaxed and content. There was a loud knock at the door, and before she could call out, Shafat burst in.
‘Mistress,’ he said, his voice breathless as if he had been running. He registered Elissa’s naked body and furious expression and quickly turned his back. Elissa could see the blush on the back of his neck.
‘How dare you barge in here, Shafat,’ said Elissa in an outraged tone. ‘Explain yourself.’
‘Mistress, please forgive me. I meant no disrespect. But it’s important.’
Elissa’s eyes narrowed, the relaxation in her body fleeing from her like a startled bird, to be replaced by a gnawing, anxious, uncertain feeling.
‘What is it?’
‘The redhead and her daughter. Rufa and Fabilla. They are gone.’
Elissa sat bolt upright. Her voice was unsettlingly soft, threatening.
‘Turn round and explain yourself.’
Shafat turned, but kept his eyes cast to the ground, trying to avoid looking at her naked body. He spoke with a tremor.
‘They didn’t report for their duties this morning. Rufa has always been an obedient slave, so it was very out of character. I went to her quarters, but she wasn’t there. Her belongings were gone as well.’
‘When did she run?’
‘Natta says she hasn’t seen her since yesterday evening. Apparently, Rufa said she was running an errand for you. She gave the same story to Demosthenes, the night porter.’
‘He didn’t query why she was taking her daughter with her?’
‘He says she claimed she was having bad dreams and wanted to keep her close.’
‘Take Natta and Demosthenes to the peristylium and have them stripped and bound. Call for Glaukos. We will find out if they are hiding anything.’
Shafat bowed and departed to carry out her instructions. Elissa yelled for a slave to help her dress. Her chamber slave, an elderly woman who Elissa decided was rapidly getting past a useful age, came over as fast as arthritic limbs would allow, to help Elissa into a long stola. The slave started to fuss with Elissa’s hair, but Elissa shrugged her off, pulled a comb through it briskly herself, splashed on a little perfume and then marched from the room.
She arrived in the peristylium in time to witness Demosthenes and Natta being bound by two of the day porters, their arms stretched around columns as if they were hugging them. Demosthenes seemed groggy, obviously roused from his sleep after his night shift, already tied tight. Natta was trembling and sobbing as the ropes were secured around her wrists and stretched around her column. Glaukos walked to Demosthenes and ripped his tunic away, revealing a muscular back. He did the same with Natta, showing the woman’s pale skin and saggy abdomen and buttocks. The stripping increased the moans and sobs coming from Natta’s throat.
Looking around, Elissa could see that a crowd of the household slaves was gathering. She considered sending them to continue with their work, but then decided this would be a valuable lesson for them to witness. At the far side of the peristylium, Natta’s partner, Cossus, was looking furious. Another slave had a hand on his chest, talking gently to him, while yet another was guiding Natta’s children away from the scene.
Glaukos, a leer on his face, held two whips, which he showed to Elissa. In one hand was a scutica, with its twisted leather thongs, capable of inflicting more damage than a simple strap or cane. In the other hand was the flagrum, a short whip with pieces of bone at the tip. This one could flay the skin off the victim, down to the very bone. Elissa indicated the scutica and pointed to Natta. Glaukos bowed and stood a short way behind the naked slave, spreading his feet slightly to maintain his balance during the strokes. He looked to Elissa for confirmation and she nodded. Glaukos drew the whip back and flicked it forward with all his strength.
The crack of the whip through the air and the thump of the leather against the woman’s back were followed almost immediately by a high-pitched, sustained scream. Glaukos pulled his arm back and administered another stroke. Natta’s first scream had not finished when the whip landed a second time, and the impact changed the pitch but not intensity of her cries. Glaukos paused to let the noise die down, Natta drawing breath, choking and sobbing. Then he carried on, varying the timing of his strokes so Natta had no way of predicting when the next one would land.
Elissa looked round at the gathered slaves. They stood silent, eyes narrowed, expressions set, flinching with each blow and scream. Some kept their eyes averted, some seemed unable to turn their gaze away. No questions had yet been asked, following the traditional wisdom that one couldn’t believe a slave unless they had been tortured first. Elissa mused on this as she watched the whip falling. Of course, she had been a slave once herself. Should she therefore treat slaves differently to someone who had always been free, who had never experienced the shame, the cruelty, the dehumanization of the slave state? Wasn’t it different for her, though? She had been freed by her father’s actions, he had liberated her from slavery, and then her own actions had brought her to Rome, to freedom from poverty, and the opportunity to fulfil her destiny. These slaves were just pawns in the Lord and Lady’s will, and it was right that any methods necessary were used to bring the gods the respect and glory that had been denied to them for centuries.
Natta’s back was red and purple from the beating, with blood trickling out from small open wounds. She was sagging against the column, her cries a continuous but weaker wail. Elissa licked her lips and a frisson of excitement ran through her. Take this offering of suffering, my Lord and Lady, she prayed silently. As a foretaste of what is to come.
After twelve strokes, a relatively small number, Natta was becoming noticeably weaker. Glaukos, though clearly enjoying himself, looked at Elissa questioningly, and she held up a hand.
‘Bring her to me,’ she said. Two slaves untied Natta and brought her, half-walking, half-dragged, to where Elissa stood, and threw her at her feet. Glaukos lifted the slave woman’s chin so she was looking up at her mistress. Tears and dust stained her face, and there were livid indents where her cheek had been pressed against the stone.
‘Tell me where Rufa and her child are.’
Natta stared at her piteously. ‘Mistress, I don’t know. They left yesterday evening. She said she was running an errand for you.’
Elissa regarded her for a moment. ‘Tie her up again,’ she said to Glaukos, who indicated that she be bound to the column again.
Glaukos then turned his attention to Demosthenes. The big man was no braver, his cries deeper and louder than Natta’s as the scutica rose and fell. He was stronger, though, and Elissa allowed thirty lashes before she had him brought to her. She asked the same question.
‘Where are Rufa and the child?’
‘Mistress, I don’t know. She said she getting garum for cook.’
‘And why did you decide you didn’t need to check with Shafat?’
‘I’m sorry, Mistress. Why she lie? Why she run? Where can escaped slave go, in Rome?’
Elissa sighed and ordered him tied up again. She took the flagrum from Glaukos and walked slowly over to the two bound slaves. She stroked the whip with the sharp bits of bone tied into the end. She could tell from the slaves’ reactions, eyes wide, low frightened moans escaping, that they knew what it was capable of.
‘Tell me. Spare yourselves the misery. Where is she?’
/> Demosthenes started to babble, crying that he didn’t know, and begging for mercy. A trembling Natta seemed too frightened to speak. Elissa passed the vicious whip to Glaukos and walked away. It seemed likely they were telling the truth, but she would allow the interrogation to run its full course, just in case there was any chance one of them was hiding something from her. She wondered if she should put the rest of the household to torture, in case someone else knew anything. Maybe someone had helped the slave to escape. And how did she know to flee in the first place? But she wasn’t so wealthy that she could afford a whole new set of slaves. Regardless, how she escaped no longer mattered. What was of importance was finding her. The girl was the chosen one, selected by the rites to be the one that would summon the Lord and Lady to this earth, to dance in the middle of the destruction of Rome itself.
She walked back towards her bedroom, to finish readying herself for the day. She would need to summon some help, she decided. Behind her, the barbed whip started to fall, and Natta’s pitiful cries rang around the peristylium. She wondered idly whether she would die directly from the whipping, or in a few days from her wounds.
* * *
Scrofa was waiting in her atrium when she arrived there with Glaukos and Shafat in tow. The fat man’s face was ruddy and he was breathless, obviously having made haste to have come promptly. He bowed deeply as she walked in. She let him hold the obeisance for a long moment before indicating for him to rise.
‘I came as soon as I received your command, Mistress.’
Elissa nodded and gestured to him to sit. She dismissed the porter and Glaukos took his place, standing guard by the front entrance.
‘There has arisen a small problem,’ said Elissa.
Scrofa was silent as he waited for her to elaborate.
‘The chosen one has absconded.’
Scrofa looked unsettled. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mother.’
‘You understand the implications?’
Scrofa put his head on one side. ‘I believe so, Mother.’
‘That girl was chosen by the Lord and Lady, as their sacrifice. I saw it. I was granted a vision of the girl with a head of fire, who they required in order to give their blessing to our enterprise. Through her, they told me when they spoke to me, Rome would be destroyed and the Lord and Lady would return to our world to rule over us.’
Scrofa nodded. ‘I know her importance, Mother.’
‘So tell me how we find her.’
Shafat interrupted. ‘She is an escaped slave. We use the correct authorities to help us find her. They have resources we don’t.’
‘The vigiles?’ scoffed Glaukos. ‘Those bumbling fools will never catch her.’
‘No, the urban cohorts,’ said Shafat.
Scrofa spoke. ‘That isn’t really their job. The cohorts are for crowd control.’
Elissa looked interested. ‘But you have influence in the cohorts. I’m sure that we could get them to reallocate some resources.’
Scrofa nodded uncertainly.
‘Should we torture the rest of the slaves?’ asked Shafat. ‘See if any of them have any knowledge as to where she might have chosen to hide.’
Glaukos looked eager at the suggestion.
‘That shows commendable commitment to the cause, Shafat, seeing as you yourself are a slave.’
Shafat paled and stuttered. ‘I didn’t mean…’
Elissa waved a hand. ‘I hope it won’t be necessary. We will see what the efforts of Scrofa and our fine men in the cohorts are capable of.’
Shafat nodded gratefully.
A loud knock at the door surprised them. Shafat did the dismissed porter’s job, and a slave announced the arrival of his mistress, Metella.
Shafat ushered Metella, who waited with two bodyguards, into the atrium, where the Roman matron bowed to her mistress. Elissa offered her a hand to help her to her feet and guided her through to the peristylium. Shafat, Scrofa, Glaukos and Metella’s personal slave followed behind respectfully. A calm had descended on the place after the distressing noises and sights just moments earlier. Two slaves were sullenly cleaning blood from the pillars. Metella paid them no attention. Metella’s bodyguards stood at a respectful distance, faces impassive.
Elissa guided Metella to a stone bench and sat beside her, taking her hand.
‘How are you, my child?’ asked Elissa in a soft voice. Metella was about the same age as Elissa, but their relationship, especially since the initiation, was clearly not one of equals.
‘Sadness is my lot in life. I loved him, you know, Mother. It may not be the usual state of affairs in marriages within my class. My friends, virgin, married and widowed alike, don’t understand my grief. But he was not your typical Roman.’
‘You say that like it is a bad thing?’
Metella gave a wan smile. ‘I know how you feel about Romans. I have come to share your feelings. Most Romans would consider my husband’s virtues – his tenderness, his respect for his slaves, his refusal to divorce me when it became obvious I was barren – to be weaknesses. Maybe this is why he wasn’t promoted to senatorial rank. He had the property qualifications. But these so-called weaknesses, they made me treasure him. I don’t think I will ever stop missing him.’
‘Have you heard anything more from the Urban Prefect’s office?’
Metella shook her head. ‘I tried to visit yesterday. They wouldn’t even admit me. They treated me like one of the head count. They even…’ She stopped, a tremor in her voice, followed by a little sob. Elissa put a comforting arm around her shoulder.
‘Go on,’ said Elissa.
‘They laughed at me. The common soldiers of the urban cohorts, they told me I was a nuisance, that I was wasting their time. Then they said that I should find myself a new husband, and that if I was lonely at night, they would—’
This time she did break down, heavy sobs wracking her frame. Elissa held her head against her chest, while she looked at Glaukos. The big man looked away, face neutral. Scrofa looked uncomfortable and seemed about to speak, but Elissa shook her head, warning him to keep silent.
The sobs eased, and she dabbed her eyes and nose on a cloth offered by her slave.
‘I do apologize, Mistress. You have more important things to do than hear my woes.’
‘I always have time for my loyal followers. But I must admit, the calls on me are pressing today.’
‘Of course.’ Metella composed herself. ‘I shall take up no more of your time. I thank you for your kindness, Mistress. It seems to be a rare thing in Rome these days.’ She rose, and Elissa stood with her.
‘You will attend the next meeting?’
‘I will, Mistress. Now I am given to the Lord and Lady, I want to show them my loyalty and obedience.’
‘I am pleased,’ said Elissa. ‘I am sorry they are such lowly affairs. Few of our followers are people of means, and we have little money to worship them as they deserve.’
‘Oh,’ said Metella, sudden remembrance on her face. ‘My visit was not just social. As you know, I am a wealthy widow, with no heir. I am of course glad to donate to the worship of Ba’al Hammon and Tanit.’ She gestured at one of her bodyguards, who produced a heavy bag of coins that had been skilfully hidden beneath his clothes to protect it from casual thieves on the streets. She took it from him and handed it to Elissa. ‘Please accept this gift on behalf of the Lord and Lady.’
Elissa’s smile was suitably solemn. ‘I accept on their behalf. I am most grateful. This gift will help glorify their worship.’
‘If you find yourself needing more, please let me know.’
‘Thank you, child. The Lord and Lady would not want to see you go short yourself. But maybe you could consider changing your will to their benefit. Just in the sad event that you do not remarry, and remain childless, of course.’
Metella nodded. ‘I will get my lawyers to prepare the documents straight away.’ She bowed and bid goodbye. Elissa watched her leave with her slave, waiting till she was gone before turn
ing to Scrofa, Glaukos and Shafat, speculatively weighing the heavy bag of coins in her hand.
‘Our investment is starting to pay off. These funds will be important in our preparations.’
Glaukos grunted. ‘So can I have her now?’
‘No, Glaukos. At least not until she has changed her will.’
‘Before I slit her effeminate husband’s throat, I whispered in his ear that I was going to fuck her and kill her.’
Elissa sighed. ‘That is a promise you will have to wait to keep, until she is no longer useful to us.’
Glaukos grimaced but said nothing.
Shafat ventured cautiously, ‘But isn’t she one of us now? A follower of the Lord and Lady?’
Elissa spat on the ground, her face suddenly contorted by a vicious expression. ‘She is a Roman. For now, she is a useful pawn. But when the time comes, when the Lord and Lady return, she will die, like all the Romans with their pride and their aggression and their false gods. Then, Glaukos, you may have her.’
Glaukos smiled.
‘In the meantime, Scrofa will keep making sure her entreaties to the Urban Prefect’s office fall on deaf ears.’
Scrofa nodded his agreement.
‘Now, beloved of Ba’al, go. Go and find our sacrifice, and bring her back to us. The time of our glory is approaching.’
Glaukos balled his fists, a set expression on his face, and started to leave.
‘Glaukos!’ called Elissa after him. He stopped and turned. ‘No harm is to come to the girl.’
Glaukos hesitated then nodded. ‘And her mother?’
Elissa just shrugged.
Chapter VII
Carbo woke as the first light of the sun streamed through the bedroom window, and took a moment to remember why he was on a mattress on the floor. He sat up and scratched where sharp pieces of straw from the mattress stuffing had poked into his skin. He spotted a couple of new bites from fleas and bedbugs, and scratched them too, while trying to ignore some of the older bites that were oozing. Next to him, sharing a mattress designed for one, were Philon and Marsia. Philon was snoring and Marsia just starting to stir. On the bed, Rufa was sitting up, stroking Fabilla’s hair, the sleeping young girl resting her head in her mother’s lap. Carbo caught her eye, and she made to move, but he motioned her to stay where she was.
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