"I think," he said menacingly, "that I shall share you with the jailor."

She laughed scornfully. "Must you see another man rape me before you are able to function, Hostilius!?"

Valerian Hostilius grew beet red, and then a very evil look came into his eyes. He smiled nastily at her, and said, "I know just how to still your vicious tongue." The dog whip flicked out at her nipple, and she winced, suddenly unnerved by his manner. He walked to the door and pounded upon it. Almost instantly the entry creaked open and the jailor entered, his eyes darting to Zenobia, his own craving evident. Hostilius smiled again. "I need help with this recalcitrant bitch, jailor. Aid me, and she is yours when I have finished. When I am through with her she will be all cozy and obedient, I promise you."

The jailor licked his lips, and whined, "What if she tells, noble Senator? I have not your rank to protect me."

Hostilius laughed. "Do you dunk this proud bitch will admit to having been humped by a piece of vermin like you? Don't be ridiculous! Help me, now!"

"What do you want me to do, noble Senator?"

"I'm taking her down, and I want you to restrain her across your knees. I have a fancy to beat her bottom for a bit." Hostilius unlocked the iron manacles from Zenobia's wrists, and once again her feet made contact with the floor. "Don't help him, good jailor!" she cried out. "I will say he sneaked into the cell when you weren't looking, and that unknowingly you locked him in here with me. I will claim you found him when my cries alerted you! Good jailor, I am a most important imperial captive!"

Hostilius dealt Zenobia a staggering blow to the side of her head. "Pay no attention to the bitch! She is no one!" The whip descended upon her tender flesh, forcing a cry through her clenched teem.

"Have you ever taken a woman like one takes a boy," Hostilius demanded of the jailor, and then he laughed. "Yes, yes, I can see you have! Well, I am going to take her like that now! Lay her flat, jailor! I imagine that she is quite ready for me now-aren't you, Zenobia?"

The jailor laid her face down in the straw, and then she felt Hostilius climbing upon her buttocks. The jailor held her arms down stretched above her head so she might not struggle. The gods! she thought. Dogs mate this way, but people don't! She felt his fingers beginning to separate the halves of her bottom, felt something slimy trying to push at her, and suddenly she screamed as loud as she could. "Nooo! Nooooooo!"

There was a roar of outrage from the doorway of the cell, her arms were suddenly loosened, and she felt Hostilius's weight yanked off of her. The jailor was already babbling hysterically, "I only did what he told me! I am a poor man, sir! Don't kill me!"

"Let him go, Marcus," she heard Gaius Cicero say, and then Marcus's voice replied, "Run for your miserable life, man, before I regret my merciful intent."

She ached all over, but she was too weak to rise. She could only lie there, face down in the straw, listening as her husband said coldly, "You're a dead man, Valerian Hostilius!" And then there was a strange sound, a wheezing sigh, and the thump of a body hitting the floor. She didn't need to be told that the senator was dead.

She fainted with relief.

Returning to consciousness, she was totally confused as to where she was. As her eyes slowly focused she became aware of movement, of the fact that she ached terribly, the very fabric of her tunic scratching initatingly against her skin. She was dressed! She was in a litter! She was in Marcus's arms! She was safe!

"Marcus!" she whispered eagerly through cracked lips.

"Beloved!" His face swam into view, growing clearer with each moment.

"Praise the gods you came in time," she said softly. "He was going to-"

"I know what the swine was going to do," he said grimly.

"Gaius went to you?"

"Yes. They only held him long enough to be certain there was no counterplot. He has already sworn his fealty to the senate, and will be safe from harm no matter what happens to Aurelian."

"I am free?"

"Yes. The physician Celsus wasted no time in reporting to Senator Tacitus that you were not carrying Aurelian's child; and the order had already been given that you be released. Hostilius knew that it would be."

"Is he dead, Marcus?"

"Yes. I slit his fat throat!"

"We will go tomorrow?"

"Yes. I have requested permission in my mother's name to take you to the seaside to recuperate. Tacitus signed the order himself. I think he suspects that it is not my mother who wants to take you to the seaside. We could not get through the city gates to the port, however, without a pass from the senate. You are still an imperial captive."

"Are you taking me home?"

"Yes, my beloved. I am taking you home."

Her eyes closed again, and when she next awoke she was tucked into a comfortable bed within a house. She was stripped of her garments, but her wounds had been washed and dressed with a sweet-smelling unguent. The coverlet of the bed had been raised somehow, and although it sheltered her, it did not touch her sensitive skin. She sighed with relief, and instantly Dagian was at her side.

"My dearest daughter, praise Mother Juno that you are safe!" Her blue eyes were wet with tears.

"What time is it?"

"Almost dawn," came the reply.

"Have you watched by my bedside all night, Dagian?"

"Only the last hour, my dear. Marcus has been with you all night."

"I am all right," Zenobia reassured Dagian, "just somewhat sore. Marcus should not have sat up all night, especially when we must leave this day."

"We will not leave until the afternoon, Zenobia, and Marcus has changed our plans slightly. When he returned with you late yesterday he sent word to his captain to take his ship from the old harbor at Ostia and move it to the new harbor at Portus. Rather than ride to the coast we are going to go by barge down the Tiber, and through the Claudian canal directly into the Portus harbor. It will be far more comfortable for you, my dear. Our household goods left here yesterday at dawn, and will be awaiting us tomorrow aboard the ship. A rider went after them late yesterday to tell them of the change in plans."

"Then we sail tomorrow?"

"On the first tide after we arrive, my dear."

"I shall not be sorry to say good-bye to Italy, Dagian, as much as I fear your Britain."

"Fear Britain? Why should you fear my homeland?" Dagian was astounded.

"From what Marcus has told me over the years, Dagian, your land is a wild and fierce one."

"From what Marcus has told me, Zenobia, your homeland is a wild and fierce one," Dagian replied with a smile. "I think, my dear daughter, that it is merely a matter of familiarity. Britain seems frightening to you because you have never been there. Besides, I doubt that you will ever see one of our warriors painted blue and driving his chariot in battle." Then she laughed at the startled look on Zenobia's face.

"Your warriors paint themselves blue?"

"Indeed they do," Dagian said, chuckling.

"Why?"

"Because, my dear, our warriors believe that if they fall in battle, their enemies may strip them only of their possessions, but never of their dignity as long as they are painted blue."

Zenobia thought a moment, and then to Dagian's surprise she nodded her head, and said thoughtfully, "Yes, I understand that."

What a strange thing, Dagian thought. I meant to tease her about our warriors, and instead I have calmed her fears. "Go back to sleep, Zenobia," she said. "We have a long journey ahead of us."

She slept again, awakening close to midday. Both Bab and Adria were with her now, and her soreness was almost gone. She stretched, yawning lazily, and Bab hurried over to the bed, her face concerned. "The lady Dagian has told me of your ordeal, my baby! Curse the Romans! They are evil people!"

"My husband is a Roman, Bab."

"No, he is not!" was the quick reply. "Perhaps his father was, but Marcus Alexander Britainus is like his mother."

Zenobia laughed. "You have settled it in your mind, I can see. Very well, I shall not argue with you, old friend. However, I do wish to rise. Please see to my clothing."

While old Bab did as she was bid, Adria gently lifted the bed coverlet back, and helped Zenobia to get up. Her face flushed with embarrassment when she saw her mistress's body, and she turned away. Looking down, Zenobia gasped in shock. "Venus aid me!" she cried, for upon her breasts were distinct fingermarks, her lower torso was criss-crossed with narrow, raised red welts, and in a small table mirror she could see over her shoulder that her buttocks were badly bruised.

Turning around, Bab shrieked in horror and gaspingly clutched at her chest. "What have they done to you, my baby?!"

Zenobia was concerned less for herself than for the old lady who had so faithfully served her since childhood, and so she said, "It's all right, Bab. But do you know of some potion or unguent that will help me erase these bruises quickly?"

Diverted, the old woman thought a moment, and then said, "I will send one of the slaves to the apothecary's shop for what I need. Do not fear, my baby, I will have the mark of that beast gone as quickly as possible. What crassness to mark your lovely skin so! Why even the emperor never treated you thus!"

"No," Zenobia said, "he didn't," and she remembered Hostil-ius's remark about the difference in treatment among imperial captives.

Early in the afternoon they left the house of the Alexander family. They traveled to the barge landing by litter, the slaves and the servants walking along beside them. It was not a particularly large or impressive party, nothing that would attract attention. In addition to Adria, Bab, and Charmian, there were half a dozen Alexander family slaves. At the docks their papers were checked and approved by a centurion, for no one entered or exited the city without permission.