Beast of Caledonia (20 page)

Quintus studied the young man. “You just might have
something there, Micah. But the infant will need a wet nurse.”

“Rachel would come back with us.”

Quintus rose from his chair. “I will have a room prepared
for you. We leave in the morning.”

* * * * *

Something was different. Annachie could sense it, but he had
no idea what it was.

He was lying on his side. That was not unusual, for Quintus’
servants had turned him off and on to bathe him, clean the wounds on his back,
and allow air to get to them so they could heal. He wondered every time if the
pain he suffered with the turning was worth it.

What was unusual was this weight on his arm. For a moment,
he thought it might be Sara—the way she used to lay next to him and he would
put his arm around her. But no, it was too small to be Sara. Whatever it was,
the slight tug when he moved his head told Annachie that his hair was caught
under it.

He finally managed to force his eyes open. By the gods, a
bairn! A wee bairn lay in his arms, sleeping peacefully, a lock of Annachie’s
hair bunched in his tiny fist.

“Drust? Oh, Drust, my son. Drust.” He managed, just barely,
to raise his hand and touch the baby’s soft cheek with the back of one finger.
His tears dripped on the infant’s forehead, causing him to start slightly and
furrow his tiny brows.

“You have more to live for than you know, Annachie,” Quintus
said, appearing at his side. More people stood behind Quintus. With another
blink to clear his sight, Annachie recognized Rachel, Jacob, and Micah.

“Thank you, my friends, for keeping him safe and caring for
him.” He took a deep breath and said, “Take him away now.”

“Annachie? Why?” Rachel asked.

“It hurts too much to look at him…to see Sara in him.
Please. I cannot—” A lump formed in Annachie’s throat, choking him, making further
speech impossible.

No one moved to take the infant from him.

“Annachie, listen to me,” Quintus said. “I never told you
where Sara is because I feared it would distress you overmuch and make you give
up hope.”

Annachie turned his head slightly to look at Sara’s father.
“By all the gods, do not tell me they killed her some other way. You told me
she was alive.” He tried to raise his head and shoulders off the bed, but was
too weak. With a groan of pain, he fell back down again. “
Damn you
,
Quintus, you told me she was alive.”

“And so she is.” Annachie heard Quintus take a deep breath.
Then the man said simply, “Septimius has her.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Where is Septimius?” Quintus asked the young man who
answered the door. He was new to the household, for Annachie did not recognize
him.

“Sleeping, Sire.”

More likely passed out from drink, Annachie thought.
Although it was almost midnight, it was still early for the slaver to be abed.

Annachie looked around the room. Just the sight and smell of
Septimius’ house was enough to make him feel sick. To the right of the door,
down a short hallway, was the room he had always been taken to when Septimius
had sent for him. The memory of the restraints, the whippings, and the
violation he had suffered at the slaver’s hands hit him like a physical blow,
making it difficult for him to breathe. He hugged his son tighter.

“We have come to see my daughter,” Quintus continued.

Annachie watched the servant glance between the older man
and himself, then to the babe nestled snugly in Annachie’s muscular arms.

“Forgive me, Sire, I cannot let you in. Septimius forbids
her to have—” Suddenly, the young man’s eyes opened wider and his mouth fell
open. “You-you’re the Beast,” he said in a voice quivering with fear.

“Aye,” said Annachie, “I am. And if you do not take us to
Sara at once, you will learn how I got the name.”

The lad trembled from head to toe. Annachie would not have
hurt him, but the servant did not need to know that. “She is in-in the garden,
Sire.”

Quintus motioned Annachie toward an opening in the far side
of the room. As they walked away, Annachie smiled at the young servant…and was
rewarded with a surprised look. “No, I would not have hurt you,” Annachie said,
“but I will if you wake Septimius to tell him we are here.”

“No, Sire, I promise I will not do so.”

Annachie nodded and followed Quintus toward the back of the
house. The older man had stopped at the opening into the garden. In the far
corner, a cloaked figure paced slowly, head bowed. “You go to her first,” Quintus
said. “I do not want to intrude on your reunion.”

Annachie nodded and walked into the garden.

Sara found that pacing did not relieve her fear, and she was
suddenly so tired she could not stand any longer. She made her way to the bench
in the farthest corner of the garden. It was also the darkest, but Sara knew
that would not protect her from Septimius.

He had been drinking again, and passed out in his bed as
soon as he had come home from the
caupona
. And lately he had gone to the
tavern more and more frequently. Sara knew she would suffer the consequences
once Septimius woke up.

She thought back to the conversation she had overheard
between Annachie and Micah. Now she knew that men not only did that to other
men, they did it to women, too. Septimius made it worse—if it could be any
worse—by talking to her about Annachie all the while he violated her. Telling
her that Annachie had loved it, which she knew was not true. Recounting how he
had licked each scar on Annachie’s back and reached around to grasp his…

She had tried not to cry at being reminded how this man had
used Annachie, or to scream with the pain of Septimius’ violation, but by the
time he was finished with her, she was always doing both. Thankfully, he would
then leave her alone for days or weeks at a time…until he again went to the
tavern.

Sara lay down on the bench and curled into a ball. She found
this to be her favorite position since that day in the Coliseum. It gave her
comfort and made her feel protected, even though she knew she was not. And in
her mind, she could pretend that Annachie was behind her, curled around her,
holding her in his strong arms. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out reality
and hold onto her memory.

But other, more recent, memories kept intruding.

Septimius had violated her the first night she spent in his
house. While she cried and screamed in anguish, Septimius had bent her over the
table in the
triclinium
, scattering the dishes and wine goblets in all
directions. And he had laughed at her grief. From the corner of her eye, she
had seen a knife lying close by her hand. She grabbed it and, with a burst of
strength she had not known she had, turned and stabbed Septimius. She had aimed
for his black heart, but missed and the knife went deep into his arm. He had
her beaten for that and although it hurt terribly, she had the satisfaction of
knowing she had at least injured the man.

After that, he kept all sharp objects away from her and made
sure she was securely tied when he violated her.

She didn’t want to remember her life before this. Yet, as
hard as she tried, Sara could not dispel the memories of Annachie and Drust.
Her son was just as dead to her as Annachie was. She had cried for them until
she thought she could not possibly have any tears left.

But she always did.

She could see her baby’s face as clearly as if he were lying
in her arms. At times, like now, she could even hear Drust’s little cooing
noises in her mind. It was bittersweet. How long would it be before she forgot,
before his face and his voice faded forever from her mind?

But tonight, she heard him clearly. It was as if her mind
added the weeks to his babblings and strengthened his voice. She thought that
if she opened her eyes, he would be there beside her, in his basket, on the
soft earth beneath her bench. So she did, knowing it was futile.

A vision wavered in her tears.
Huh, now I am seeing
ghosts.
But it was such a wonderful sight that she blinked to try to make
it clearer. A tall man with long golden hair stood before her, holding a bundle
in his arms. A bundle that was cooing and laughing. Even as she watched, a tiny
arm reached out and smacked the big man on his cheek.

Then the vision spoke.

“Sara?”

No, Blessed Venus, no! Do not torture me with their image
and
their voices. I cannot bear it.

But the voice came again. “Sara, are you all right?”

She blinked again to clear away her tears. She forced
herself to a sitting position and faced the figure before her. He appeared
solid, for he blocked out the light from one of the torches in the garden. Surely
if these figures were ghosts, the light would pass through them, wouldn’t it?

“Sara, it is me, Annachie. Say something.”

At her strangled scream, he came and knelt by the bench. She
started to scoot away from him. “No, no, you are dead.”

“No, my love, but I very nearly was.” As if reading her
thoughts, he said, “I am not a ghost. And neither is our son.” He held the
bundle out for her to see.

She reached out to touch the baby, then she touched
Annachie, tentatively, on his arm. “You-you are real.”

“Aye, sweet, we are real.”

She fell to her knees and threw her arms around them both.
“Oh, Annachie, Annachie.” Drust whimpered and Sara looked down to see the top
of his head wet with her tears. She laughed and pulled away, but only slightly.

Annachie put the baby in her arms. “This time,” he said,
“nothing will stop us from leaving this place.”

“I have already made the arrangements.”

Sara looked up to see her father walking toward them.
“Forgive me, Annachie,” he said, “but I could not wait any longer to see my
daughter.”

Annachie and Sara stood up to face him. “Father?”

He came forward. “Septimius would not let me in. I came here
many times to see you, to apologize to you for all that I have done, but he
would not allow it. Can you ever forgive me, Sara? If I had let the two of you
be together from the beginning, none of this would have ever happened.”

His voice began to break with emotion. Sara had never heard
him sound like that before. “I am sorry, my child, so very, very sorry.” The
light from the torches reflected in the tears on his cheeks.

“Oh, Father.” Sara stepped forward and embraced him. “Of
course I forgive you. I love you.”

Drust protested at yet again being squeezed between two much
larger bodies, and they all laughed. Annachie put his arm around Sara’s
shoulders and pulled her tight against him.

Quintus said, “There is a ship in the port of Ostia that
will take you all the way to Caledonia.”

“Caledonia?” Sara asked. “You have decided to go home?”

Annachie shrugged. “Where else would I go? I think it is the
only place we will be safe…and happy.” He looked at Quintus, and grinned.
“Besides, the Romans are afraid to go beyond that silly wall they built.” That
drew a laugh from Quintus.

“Thank you so much, Father, for helping us.” Sara kissed his
cheek.

“There is only one thing I would ask of you both.”

“Anything,” Annachie said. “There is no way I can ever repay
you for what you have done for us.”

“I am not asking for any form of payment. I only ask, may I
come with you to Caledonia?”

“Truly?” Annachie asked.

“I loved being in your homeland. I have never been as happy
as I was there, despite my wife’s carping and almost losing my daughter…the
first time. And I would have lost her had it not been for you, Annachie. I
would like to live out the rest of my days there.”

Sara looked up at Annachie’s face, not sure what his
reaction would be. The whippings, imprisonment in the stable, and being given
to Septimius—could Annachie live every day seeing the man responsible for these
abuses? She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him smile.

“We would not have it any other way,” Annachie said.

“Oh, yes, Father, please come with us.”

It was Quintus’ turn to breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you
both.”

“And Thea. Father, she must join us. She would love having
another babe to spoil.” At the crestfallen look that came over her father’s
face, Sara said, “Father, what is it? You did not sell her, did you? How could
you—”

“No, my child, I did not sell her. I learned the whole story
from the other servants—how she had taken you to Letitia and hidden you away,
how Letitia was murdered. They told me she fell over dead on the roof of the
tomb the day that they buried you. Her heart just gave out in her grief.”

“Oh, Thea, Thea,” Sara cried.

“I am so sorry,
nighean
,” Annachie said, holding her
tighter. “I remember the love between the two of you. But she would want you to
be safe, so we had best leave here before Septimius awakens.”

“Too late.”

Before they had taken three steps, a voice from the entrance
stopped them. Septimius stood there, framed by the columns on each side of the
portal. Behind him stood guards with swords and shields. By the look of them,
they were, or had at one time all been, gladiators.

“What a sweet family reunion. So sorry to break it up.” He
moved a short way into the garden. “But she is going nowhere. The emperor gave
her to me. She is my property now. And now that I think of it, so are you,
Beast. I hope you are still able to fight. I am sure the crowds in the arena
have missed you. Did you hear them cheering for you? Or were you already
knocking at the door to Elysium?”

Annachie took his arm from around Sara. She knew he was
going to try to kill Septimius—and she wanted him to—but the slaver had men
behind him and Annachie was outnumbered.

“Annachie, no, don’t,” she whispered.

He caressed her back, even as he was stepping away. “It will
be all right, sweet. I have a score to settle with him. And I am tired of
‘almost dying’. If I am to die, he is going with me.”