“What’s wrong?” Marcus frowned.
An acrid odour drifted by her nose. She wrinkled her nostrils at the offending smell. Her eyes widened. “Marcus! Look.” She pointed towards the door.
She covered her mouth with her hand, while a choking sensation filled her throat. Heat seared her lungs, making it difficult to breath. She watched in horror as a huge cloud of smoke rose from the space beneath the door. The thick haze quickly filled the room.
Her eyes watered. Through the murky darkness, she could barely distinguish Marcus’ tall frame. Heat enveloped her body. Beneath the door, she could see the deep red glow of… Fire!
“Get out through the window.” He pushed her towards it.
She looked upwards. The opening seemed small. Would she fit? How about him?
“Go, now. Before it’s too late.” Marcus gripped her arm. He made her stand on a bench then he shoved his shoulder beneath her ass. “Grab the ledge,” He ordered.
“I’m not going without you.”
“Damn it, woman. This is no time to argue. Move.” He propelled her upwards until her upper body became level with the window.
She grasped the edge and hoisted herself through the small opening. She looked down. Big mistake. Everyone and everything seemed soooooooooooo tiny.
“Go!” She heard Marcus shout.
“I-I can’t do this.” She squeezed her eyes closed while dizziness washed over her.
“There’s a balcony below. I’ll ease you down the ledge so you can land on it.”
“Come with me,” she begged.
“Lyla, go!” He gripped her hands, easing her body over the ledge.
She turned her head to see that Rome had become a smouldering inferno. Every residence, store, and business burned with bright intensity.
She looked down. The people standing on the street under Marcus’ window stretched a wide piece of cloth then held it upwards. They shouted something in Latin.
“They’re telling you to jump, Lyla.”
“Oh, no,” she whispered. Her body shook. “I’m not falling onto that thing.” It would probably tear. She’d go right through and hit the pavement.
Smoke drifted out the window.
“Lyla, forgive me,” Marcus told her. “But it is your only chance to save yourself.” He pushed her over the edge.
She slipped away from him.
The last thing she heard as she headed towards the pavement was him calling to her, his voice filled with pain.
Inside the room, Marcus dipped his toga into a basin filled with water. He tossed the long swatch of material over his head and shoulders. Now that Lyla was safe from the inferno, he could determine if anyone else in his household remained trapped inside.
He pushed against the door. It fell away from the frame, landing in the hallway, a mass of flaming cinders. His shoulder grew hot, his skin seared, even though the damp material covered it.
A thick smoke cloud and flames greeted him. His gut twisted.
He’d probably die in this blazing conflagration, but at least Lyla would be safe.
If she made it in one piece to the street below.
Guilt tore at his insides, but what else could he have done? Subject her to the fiery hell surrounding him now?
His eyes watered, making it difficult to see directly before him. Violent coughing ensued. He could barely catch his breath, for his lungs filled with heated air.
Marcus tripped over something on the floor. When he could focus, his eyes beheld Decimus. His guts twisted when he saw Decimus’ soot covered body.
Marcus picked him up and heaved him over his shoulder.
“Thank you, Master.” The older man could barely speak.
Relief turned Marcus giddy. Decimus was alive! “Don’t be so quick to thank me yet, Decimus.” His voice sounded gruffer than he’d intended, mainly because he fought back tears. “I still have to get us away from here.”
Decimus wheezed, “I would have d-died, M-master, if you hadn’t come along.”
“Just tell me, did everyone else get out?”
“Yes.” Decimus coughed. “But what about Lyla? I-I didn’t see her.”
“I got her out.” Those were the last words Marcus uttered as he ran through the doorway leading to the street.
When he looked back, he noticed the grand entrance of his magnificent residence engulfed in flames. The wood burned quickly, causing the ornate structure to crumble to the ground in a smouldering pile. But they had made it!
He held onto Decimus, but pushing through the crowd was impossible. Chaos reigned. People and animals ran through the streets in a wild frenzy. Roman soldiers tried to keep order, but the crowd rioted. If he could just find Lyla!
“Master, I can walk.”
“The hell you can.”
A small alleyway came into Marcus’ line of vision. He made a right turn, and deposited Decimus behind some large, stone ewers. “Stay here. I will return for you.”
“I trust you, Master.” Decimus grabbed his hand. “I know you will come back for me.” He gripped it tightly. “Master?”
Marcus stroked Decimus’ head. “What is it, old friend?”
“Corvus did this. I overheard a rumour that his men were going to set your home on fire, but I never had a chance to tell you.”
Marcus’ ears filled with a buzzing noise. Rage engulfed him. If he got his hands on those bastards, he’d slaughter them like the animals they were. They burned his home, and set fire to all of Rome, too!
Decimus slumped against the urns.
Marcus got down on his haunches. He saw that Decimus’ chest rose and fell, but his breathing seemed shallow. Marcus removed his toga and wadded it into a ball, placing it beneath Decimus’ head.
“Sleep,” he whispered to Decimus, stroking the elderly man’s shoulder. “I will come back for you.”
Marcus’ eyes watered. His chest tightened. He didn’t want to leave, but he had no choice while he searched for Lyla. Decimus would slow him down.
He got up and ran through the streets, pushing and shoving his way through the crowd. He stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes beheld a man hoisting Lyla onto his horse. She kicked and screamed, but the man didn’t release her, slapping her across the face to silence her cries.
From where he stood, Marcus swore he could see blood flow over Lyla’s mouth.
His blood ran cold, filling him with icy rage.
She writhed and twisted, but the man ignored her attempts to free herself.
Marcus growled low in his throat, his fury unleashed. “Lyla!” He tore down the street, adrenaline pumping through his veins.
She couldn’t possibly have heard him, but he continued to call her name.
Marcus skidded across something wet and slimy. Regaining his balance, he looked down and saw what caused it.
A Roman soldier lay face down on the cobblestone pavement, his throat slashed. Blood pooled around him, flowing over the rough stones.
Marcus ignored the gory sight. He reached for the sword that remained in the man’s fisted hand. The poor bastard never had a chance to use it.
Marcus swung it before him, waving and shouting as he ran. The crowd parted. They had no choice, lest he mow them down in his fury and need to get to Lyla.
* * * *
Lyla had bounced once on the stretched linen, grateful she didn’t fall or rip through the fabric. Cracking her stupid head on the pavement would have been such a ridiculous way to die. A hysterical little giggle escaped her throat.
Focus!
Don’t think about anything but finding Marcus.
He had to have escaped the inferno… “Please be alive, Marcus. Be alive!” But when she saw his residence, her heart plummeted.
His beautiful home had burned to the ground. What remained still blazed, the flames darting through the windows.
“Marcus,” she cried. “Oh, Marcus.” She placed a shaking hand against her lips. Running through the crowded streets near his home, her grief
morphed into fury.
Who did this horrible thing? What idiot left a candle burning, or…
Soon, she became entrenched with the crowd hurrying away from Rome’s interior. Occasionally, Lyla would glance upwards to see burning wood fall onto the street.
A woman shrieked, a child screamed in pain. Lyla helped them to their feet, her arms shielding the small girl from the wood’s fiery embers. The hair on her arms singed, but she didn’t care because her body had become numb with grief over Marcus. The woman mumbled something in Latin, her face awash with tears. She grabbed Lyla’s hand and kissed it, but cinders rained down on her skin. Ash coated the fine hairs lining her arms.
Lyla pushed her way through the crowd and pressed her body against a wall while people passed her by. No one gave her a second glance. All had escape on their minds.
Her knees buckled, but she braced her back and hands against the wall, hoping to remain upright.
“Lyla!” A woman’s voice pierced her ears.
She glanced down the street to see someone frantically waving.
“Lyla! Lyla, it’s me, Appia.”
Before she knew it, Appia materialised before her.
Lyla shook her head, not quite believing it was she. It couldn’t be… “Why aren’t you on your way to Greece?”
A tall, blond man approached Appia, his face a tight mask filled with anger. He reached for her and hugged her tight, leaning down to shield her from the falling cinders and ash. Then he grabbed her shoulders and gave them a shake, speaking rapidly in Latin.
Appia tried to get a word in, firing off more Latin when she could. “Cletus, est Lyla.”
Cletus released Appia, his face red. He said something to Lyla in Latin.
“He is pleased to meet you,” Appia translated.
Suddenly, he looked upwards, his eyes widening. He grabbed Appia and Lyla, shoving them both through the narrow opening in an alleyway.
A huge chunk of burning wood hit the ground near Lyla’s feet.
He asked Appia something. She nodded.
Appia grabbed Lyla’s hand. “Are you all right?”
“Y-yes,” Lyla responded, barely. She glanced at Appia. “Why aren’t you on that ship bound for Greece?”
“When we heard about the fire, Cletus feared for Marcus and his household. So did I. We came back to see Marcus’ house burning.”
Lyla’s stomach knotted when she thought about Marcus trapped in the fire. Tears filled her eyes.
Just then, a low moan drifted by her ears.
“Did you hear that?”
Cletus shifted his head too, his right ear aimed in the direction from which another low, agonised whimper came. He gave a pointed look to Appia then barked what sounded like a command. He walked over to some large, stone ewers and glanced behind them.
“Decimus.” Is all Lyla heard.
Appia walked over to where Cletus stood. “Oh my, it is Decimus!”
“But what’s he doing there?” Lyla joined them, peering over Cletus’ broad shoulder.
Soon all three were helping Decimus to his feet.
“The M-master made me r-rest here while he searched for you,” Decimus managed to say. His body shook.
Cletus bent and snatched a red toga from the ground.
“It’s the Master’s,” Decimus replied. “He wanted to make me comfortable.” He glanced at Lyla. “He is searching for you.”
Tears poured from her eyes. Marcus had escaped the fire. And trust Marcus to aide someone else before himself. I have to find him! I have to!
She ran blindly into the crowd.
Appia, Cletus, and Decimus shouted her name. She barely heard them such was her need to see her Master again.
She made it back to the street. More people and animals filled the pavement. The soldiers attempted to control the fracas, but it wasn’t doing much good. The crowd clawed at the horses the soldiers rode. Some tried to dislodge the men from their seats.
Blood soaked the ground as the army hacked their way through, their swords flying.
Cletus finally caught up with her. He spoke to her in Latin, but the only word she could decipher was Marcus.
Appia joined them and translated, “He says that Marcus wouldn’t want you to be in danger. You must stay with us.”
“I have to find him. I have to.” Lyla grabbed Cletus’ tunic. Hot tears poured down her face.
“Then we will all go.” Appia nodded.
Decimus added. “Yes, all of us.” He almost slid to the ground, but Appia caught him, placing an arm around his waist to steady him.
Cletus’ voice turned firm. “Haud, subsisto hic. Ego mos quaero Marcus.” He started to shove them all back through the small corridor.
“He wants us to stay here, Lyla,” Appia told her. “Cletus said that he will search for Marcus himself.”
Lyla could stand no more.
“Lyla!” She thought Appia called her, but when she looked back, she saw Eisha and Corinne.
She stopped long enough to greet her ornators. Then she shoved them against a wall when three Roman soldiers came racing by on horseback. She didn’t like the look in the men’s eyes. They had murder in them.
“Marcus. Have you seen him?”
Eisha and Corinne just stared at her, fear in their eyes.
Lyla didn’t get a chance to utter another word. Her feet left the ground while a man tossed her face down across a horse’s back.
A rough hand grabbed her by the hair. She saw a sword, thinking it belonged to a Roman soldier. Her eyes beheld a man’s scarred visage. The disfigurement ran down his face, from his right eye, to his cheek. His breath smelt foul. His teeth were rotted.
Corvus’ man! He laughed snidely.
She kicked and screamed, but her efforts proved futile.
Soon, two other mounted men joined them. One had Eisha, and the other had Corinne.
He slapped Lyla across the face. Her eyes stung. Her lips numbed, then hot pain shot through her jaw.
They took off at breakneck speed, the horses’ hooves beating against the pavement, dodging the burning wood that rained down upon them.
She swayed once, but remained upright enough to turn her head and see Cletus and another man running after them. Her eyes widened in horror while they grabbed the horse’s reins and butchered the two men who’d captured Eisha and Corinne. Lyla shuddered in fear, watching Eisha’s and Corinne’s captors fall from their horses, their throats cut to the bone.
Cletus controlled the horse Eisha rode, pulling her down from the animal’s back.
The other man did the same with Corinne, then he turned his attention to Lyla.
Lyla fervently wished she could see his face, but he was covered head to toe with soot. Half naked, his tunic shredded to the waist, his powerful chest muscles strained with every step he took towards her. His hand held the handle of a long sword. The metal glinted in the light from the flames. He lifted it high in the air, his eyes filled with murderous rage.
She struggled to get away, but her kidnapper held her in an iron grip once more.
The crazy man would kill her! She’d never find Marcus, never see him again…
She braced herself to feel the sword pierce her flesh. In the next instant, her captor released his hold. He toppled from the horse and landed on the ground on his back.
Cletus grabbed the horse’s reins, calming the animal down.
Lyla saw her captor sprawled on the ground face up, his eyes wide and unstaring, a sword lodged in his chest.
Lyla slipped from the horse. The soot-covered man caught her deftly in his arms. When she looked into his eyes, she recognised him instantly… “Marcus!” She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.
Cletus soon joined them with Eisha and Corinne in tow. Lyla looked into the street to see their kidnappers lying in their own blood. Soon, a curious crowd gathered around them. She shuddered from fear and from a numbing coldness creeping along her spine.
Marcus cuddled her
close. “My sweet. My precious one.” His deep voice filled her ears. It drifted through her mind and soul.
“Marcus,” she whispered. “Marcus,” she repeated, stroking his face. “Marcus.” She clutched his shoulders, not quite believing that he was real.
The soldiers slowly restored order. People formed bucket brigades and doused the flames that still leapt from the windows of stores and houses.
Appia and Decimus made their way through the crowd to join Lyla, Marcus, Cletus, Corinne, and Eisha.
Cletus placed an arm around Appia’s shoulders and hugged her tightly. Then he draped his toga around Marcus’ shoulders.
“Gratias ago vos , meus amicus.” Marcus nodded. He spoke rapidly to Cletus, his voice tight, like he held back emotion.
“Oh, Appia, what are they saying?”
“Marcus asked Cletus why he came back.”
Lyla watched Cletus grin when he answered Marcus.
“Cletus just said, how could he leave his good friend in such dire straits? Besides,” Appia gave her hand a squeeze, “I would have given him no peace until he agreed to return to Rome.”
Tears sprung to Lyla’s eyes.
Marcus and Cletus finished their conversation. Cletus raised a brow and gave Lyla a wry look.
Marcus smiled, hugging her tightly. He answered Cletus, then spoke in English to her. “He said you are a handful to deal with, but not unlike his Appia.”
She cuddled closer to Marcus. “I am shameless, when it comes to you. I would do anything I could to stay right here with you.”
Eisha and Corinne helped Decimus walk towards them, supporting him around his waist with their arms. The older man grabbed Marcus’ hand and kissed it.
Lyla’s chest grew tight with unshed tears when she saw Marcus stroke his hand through Decimus’ hair.
She jumped when a loud trumpet blast filled the air.
“The soldiers are commanding us to make way for the emperor,” Marcus explained.
Domitian rode towards them a white steed, his tall, arrogant form rising from the horse’s back. The crowd parted as he passed, his soldiers keeping a watchful eye. One of Domitian’s men shouted something. Before long, everyone knelt before him.
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