chapter 2

Chapter 2 – “Taken”

“The important question is not ‘What will others take from you?’ but ‘What will you give to them?’”
--Scribonius Largus

Light flooded the room with sudden otherworldly luminescence. It was as though Heaven’s gate opened to receive Alexenah’s father into Abraham’s Bosom.
A wooden bucket kept by the door slammed against the wall in a loud shattering crash.
Alexenah screamed.
The foul contents of the pail splattered over where her father lay. The pungent excrement splashed on her as well. It left a dark stain on her dress and the wall behind. She tasted the filth. She sputtered. Wiped her eyes and mouth. Her lungs burned with every sobbing gulped bit of air she drew. She wailed and sobbed loud, convulsive gasps until she gagged
Another loud crash as the door swung around and banged the wall. The Roman guards rushed into the prison chamber. The first man went directly to her father’s body on the floor. He recklessly kicked the lifeless form out of the way.
“No!” She cried out.
The second man entered carrying what appeared to be a bed’s mattress. He advanced quickly toward her and bashed into her. It was not bedding. As he pushed against her, she felt the solidity and strength of the long hard shield—a scutum—wrapped in many cloths. She tried to escape around the shield, but the soldier blocked her every attempt. He positioned the scutum in every path of escape. Using the padded shield, he roughly shoved Alexenah away from her father’s body and back to the dark corner of the cell. He pinned her there against the cold stone wall.
She struck out.
He pressed harder.
She struggled. Kicked.
He thrust the shield forward, firmly fixing her against the stone.
Try as she might, Alexenah could not move. She smelled the foul odor of his sweat mingled with the leather of his baldric.
Again, she cried out—this time in a mournful cry to her God.
Another quick shove by the guard and the breath went out of her.
Fighting for air, she saw a third man enter the room. She watched wide-eyed as he spread a large thick wool blanket on the floor. Taking a different wool covering, this man approached calmly and draped it about Alexenah’s shoulders and arms. Together with the first guard, the shield-man remaining firm, they bound the cloth tightly so that she couldn’t move her arms where they to relax the hold against the wall.
They tossed the shield aside. Then deftly wrapping their large arms around her, the men lowered Alexenah to the blanket that lay already on the floor. Once down, they rolled her in the thick wool like a fish at the market.
Alexenah kicked, squirmed, and twisted to find release only to find the shielded guard place his knee on her lower back to contain her bucking. Another stationed himself at her head. The last guard grabbed an ankle in each hand. He pressed her feet to the floor. He laughed, and then growled a low evil sound. He slowly spread her legs.
She braced for the worse.
“Servius! What’re you doin?” the man at her head bellowed.
“Just checking her virtue, Marcus.” Servius replied. He pulled her skirt up past her thighs.
“Leave it be. She’s chaste! Was checked when she was admitted, she was”
“By who?” Servius grunted.
“By me. Now let’r be.” He tossed a leather strap to the man.
Grumbling, Servius shoved Alexenah’s ankles back together and secured them with the strap.
“Secured,” he said.
Thus incapacitated, Alexenah’s panic then turned to anger. She raised her head, turned it best she could, and spit at the man before her. Then she tried to dash her head against the floor. The guard quickly put his strong rough hands under her head and cradled it.
She bashed his knuckles to the ground.
Marcus winced, but held on with a firm grip.
Straining, she swiftly tucked her chin and sunk her teeth into the man’s thumb flesh.
Marcus cursed and ripped his hand away. He sucked on the wound as if removing poison from an asp’s bite.
Servius laughed. “What about her teeth? Did you check those for virtue as well?”
Marcus reared his hand back to slap Alexenah.
"Hold!" A deep voice thundered from the doorway, "Don't damage the goods Marcus!” then in a low determined tone, “This one is to remain pure."
“Regulus!” Marcus swallowed as he stayed the blow.
Into the room came a large round man dressed in a pristine white Roman toga. It had been recently bleached. Alexenah smelled the urine used to bleach the wool. He must have money.
He stood with his hands on hips looking over the scene. He smiled. Teeth bleached too. His round cheeks reddened.
"The sale has been made. Use your cloaks.”
The man whose knee bit hard into her back removed his red cloak. He rolled it into a ball and tossed it to Marcus, who quickly placed it under Alexenah’s head
“Will that suffice, Master Regulus?” Marcus asked, a hint of sarcasm and anger still in his voice.
“Yes. Yes.” Regulus looked at her and attempted his smile again. “Let her budge now.”
The men loosed their hold slightly, yet remained patient and still.
Alexenah struggled to no avail in her cocoon.
They allowed her only enough space to trash some.
She screamed into the cloak until her voice gave out. Finally exhausted, she slumped in resignation and held tightly to her father’s leather treasure pouch. . . his bundle of life. Sudden grief overwhelmed her in a flood of heaving sobs.
Regulus stepped further into the room. He leaned down to her ear and said in his deep resonate voice, “I am Regulus. Dominus Servus. The Emperor’s Slavemaster. And you?” he paused. “You are easily broken.” His breath stank of garlic and rotten meat.
Then to the men he exhorted, “Good job. Now, let’s travel.”
At his command the three men picked her up. Marcus grabbed the red cloak. Together, they wrapped their arms around her—one around her calves, the other two around her torso. When they got to the doorway they placed a loosely woven sack over her head. Once outside into the hall, Marcus and Servius lifted her onto the shoulder of another man who waited. Like a sack of grain, he carried her out of the prison.
The deep voiced man led them outside into the heat of the day.
As they quickly moved down the hallway, she clearly heard the man’s hob-nailed boots on the floor. Alexenah counted twenty three steps.