Chapter 4

“There,” Her father smiled as he crouched in front of her, his fingers resting lighting against her skin as he fastened the gold band around her small wrist.

Dianna gazed down at the glittering gold band with happiness as she turned her wrist from one way to the other, fascinated by how it caught the light.

“I love it!” Dianna turned back to her father with a smile on her face; their matching blue eyes looking at each other.

“Happy birthday,” Her father reached out and rested his hand against her cheek as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Dianna cringed at the action, she had never liked being kissed by her parents, but she had not seen him in such a long time that she was convinced he had forgotten about her.

So as he stood once again, preparing to leave as he always did, Dianna darted forward and wrapped her arms around his legs, hugging him against her body.

“Don’t leave, daddy,” Dianna pressed her face against his legs, as she held onto him tightly. As if the arms of a five year old could keep him there forever.

“Come on sweetie,” Her mother’s sweet voice filled her ears as her hands came to rest on Dianna’s shoulders, gently urging her to release her father, “It’s time to go,”

“No,” Dianna shrugged her mother off and re-affirmed her hold on her father; she didn’t want him to leave.

“Dianna,” Her father spoke gently as she gazed up at his tall figure, “Honey,” he sighed as he crouched in front of her, forcing Dianna to release him.

“I must go,” He held her face in his hands as his blue eyes searched her, trying to make her understand, “But I shall return.”

“When?” Dianna cried.

“Before you even notice that I’m gone,” He gave her another kiss, his soft lips brushing her cheek, when he turned to leave but at the last moment he turned back to her.

Dianna looked at him with hope; did this mean that he was staying?

“I love you, little one,” Titus reached forward and wrapped her up in his arms, “No matter what may happen, remember that.”

Dianna gazed down at her wrist where the only band that adorned her skin was made of iron and bound her wrists together.

Gaius had forced her to remove her gold band; slaves did not own jewellery, he had told her.

So she had removed it, afraid of incurring his wrath, but she had quickly stuffed it inside her new attire, unable to part with the golden trinket that meant so much to her.

As the carriage rolled over another hole, the action sent a jolt through her spine as she forced her eyes shut in displeasure.

She was already stuffed inside a carriage with a dozen other men and women; the air was hot and putrid and the floor was sticky on the soles of her feet.

Dianna had seen enough naked men and women in her life through her Aunt’s work as an apothecary but she had always been able to distance herself from it.

But now as she was shoved inside a wooden box, Dianna found herself pressed up against naked lengths of skin that stank of sweat and fear.

Her throat was catching around a lump in her throat as she gazed at the women; their eyes were dead as they gazed into the darkness, iron bars encircling their throats.

Dianna could not watch as she turned her head and gazed through the small bars that could not allow enough air in but provided her with images of what she was leaving behind.

Leaving the comforts of Rome and her family behind, Dianna was now travelling on a path to a place she did not know.

Her entire future was now paved with uncertainties; Pompeia had promised her that Krista would come to the villa and liberate it.

Pompeia had promised that Krista would take her into her fold; would trust her like any slave and when she least expected it; Dianna would slip into her tent and kill her.

Much like she had killed her father with a stab to his gut.

That part of her future was the clearest of all.

Dianna lifted her hands and pressed her fingers against the side of her hip where her gold band now rested, fastened around her undergarments.

Feeling the metal against her skin, it calmed her nerves as the carriage rolled through a pair of gates, blotting out the forest they had been travelling through.

Gazing around the villa, Dianna found dozens of eyes watching them; slaves and soldiers alike as new merchandise reached their grasp.

Treated like any other slave, Dianna was yanked from the carriage, her legs cramping beneath her, as they were gathered in the courtyard.

The ground was hard beneath the soft soles of her feet and Dianna knew, in the depths of her heart, that she was on the right path.

* * *

The villa was like any other they had attacked.

The buildings were positioned in such a way that they formed a large square with a gravel courtyard in the centre.

Columns running around the edge with a covered walkway for those who wished to take a leisurely stroll out of the sunlight.

But at the present time there was no sunlight; only a large moon to provide Krista with all the light she needed.

Krista knew that a dozen of them could take this villa but her men were growing restless so she decided to take a back seat on this raid and allow them their blood shed.

Crouching behind a row of bushes that lined the road that led directly to the gates of the villa, Krista caught the gaze of Frieda across the road.

Positioned behind a thick tree, Krista gave the Briton the signal to start the attack; they had waited long enough and by now the masters should be asleep in their beds.

Frieda nodded her head and tapped the shoulder of two young men who were eager to impress; they had been liberated two months ago and had been training with their archer.

Krista watched them carefully as the young men aimed around the tree with their bows, taking their time as they steadied themselves.

And in the next moment the arrows were flying through the air.

Darting her gaze towards the two soldiers that stood guard on the gate, Krista was impressed to find that the arrows had imbedded themselves neatly into the guards’ necks.

“Send the signal,” Krista whispered to the woman beside her; she had pale skin and crooked fingers from where they had been broken too many times.

But she was getting better every day and it was not a difficult task to shoot a flaming arrow into the night sky.

Krista had positioned men on all sides of the villa and the flaming arrow was the signal to attack.

The young girl was smiling with happiness that she had been able to shoot straight as Krista ordered her to stay down as she advanced on the villa.

Running straight at the wall, Krista picked up enough momentum to volley herself over the top of the wall and land on the other side.

Her presence barely caused a ripple before iron claws attached to rope were thrown over the walls, allowing her men to scale the wall and enter the villa.

Krista remained where she was as the soldiers were alerted to an attack; this raid wasn’t for her.

Stepping to the side as a screaming Gaul jumped from the top of the wall, Krista watched him charge straight for a roman soldier and tackle him to the ground; his knuckles connecting with the man’s flesh.

Krista turned her head as Frieda stopped beside her.

“They’re good,” Frieda shrugged a shoulder as she watched the men attack the romans with ferocity, “They may not be gladiators but . . . they’re good,”

“Don’t let Artorius here you say that,” Krista smiled at Frieda who only gazed at Krista with confusion.

“He’s the one who has been training them,” Krista explained and she wasn’t going to let him know how good he was.

“But he’s not here?” Frieda frowned.

“No, he’s not,” Krista turned away and looked at the carnage as slaves came running out screaming, soldiers lay bleeding on the ground and masters were dragged from their beds in the dead of night.

Krista could feel Frieda’s gaze on her back as she walked forward and stood before the line of half a dozen men who were knelt on the ground, gazing up at her.

“Which of you is the master of this villa?” Krista asked as she unsheathed her sword; slaves of the villa crowded around to watch as her men kept guard.

“I am,” A man spoke from the end of the line as he rose to his feet, shrugging off the man who attempted to keep him down, “Marcus Threasius,” he offered her his name, “and who are you to ask such a question?”

Krista gazed at this blond-haired man whose entire body dripped wealth and position; his voice alone sent a shiver down Krista’s spine.

Gripping her sword in one hand, Krista walked up to his side and gazed into his arrogant brown eye, “My name is Krista,”

As she uttered her name she saw fear flicker in those depths and it fuelled the joy in her heart as she conquered yet another villa.

“This man,” Krista shouted, addressing the slaves, “would have you bound in chains and kneeling before him for the rest of your life.”

Krista walked behind Marcus and turned to face his servants, looking into each of their eyes as they whispered amongst themselves.

“I would not,” Krista growled as she kicked Marcus Threasius in the back of his knee and he went crumpling to the ground, a tortured scream coming from his lips as she gripped the back of his hair, “I would have you free,”

Krista saw the hope that began to grow in their eyes but she knew that none of them could risk it; they had been beaten so much that they shrunk away from any type of happiness in case it was a trick.

But Krista promised this was not one of those times.

“I would have you free,” Krista repeated with earnest as she nodded her head to the man at her side and he threw a bag of swords at the feet of the slaves, “And I would have you take your revenge against those who would deem it otherwise,”

Throwing Marcus to the ground, Krista and her men stepped away from the masters, leaving their fate at the hands of the slaves they had abused.

For a moment silence rained down upon them when one man stepped forward; he was an elderly man with a mass of grey curls and a thin body from lack of food.

His image alone made Krista disgusted about how cruel man could be.

The man wobbled forward as he leaned forward and gathered a sword in both hands; using all of his strength to hold the metal blade up.

Everybody watched him as his eyes seemed to bulge from his skull as he focused his vision on Marcus Threasius.

A sudden cry of pain and frustration was torn from his lips as he walked forward slowly; the weight of a sword dragging him down.

“Please,” Marcus begged at their feet as another slave picked up a sword and then another. And another.

Soon there were no swords left as the elderly man stopped before Marcus and made him beg once more before he let the blade fall into his back.

As the first blood was spilt, the masses grew frenzied and emboldened as they converged on the masters with years of pent up anger and frustration giving them strength.

Krista simply watched with a smile on her face as they got their revenge on those who had hurt them; Krista knew what it felt like and yearned to feel it again with Pompeia.

Those who did not have swords turned to beating the masters’ bodies with rocks and their own fists as they all fought for their freedom.

Krista had learnt long ago that no one could give you your freedom; you had to take it, with blood and rock.

* 

The master’s dead bodies were dragged away as Krista started to search the masses.

“Horus? Lena?” Krista called out as she searched the newly freed slaves for Atticus’s parents.

Krista tried to ignore the dozens of hands that kept touching her as she poured through the crowds, calling the names Atticus had given her.

But the more she looked the more she was coming up empty as blank faces just stared at her.

“Krista?” Frieda pushed her way through the adoring crowds to get to Krista’s side.

Krista gazed at the sombre expression on Frieda’s face, “What is it?”

“You need to see this,” Frieda turned and walked back the way she came, leading Krista away.

Following Frieda out of the courtyard and through the rooms, her boots clicking against the mosaic flooring, as she was lead through the halls and towards the storeroom.

Krista was confused but she didn’t utter a word as there was suddenly a row of her men, their heads bowed in joint honour.

“It’s at the bottom of the stairs,” Frieda allowed Krista to go first before she took a deep breath and followed behind.

Krista was unsure of what she was about to find, the peculiar behaviour of her men was unnerving, as she descended into the darkness.

The first thing that hit her was the smell; it crashed into her body with anger. She could smell fear and pain in the air as her boots started to slip on the stairs.

When she looked down she found blood staining the ground until the original colour was lost.

What in Jupiter’s name had happened here? Krista reached the bottom when her eyes glanced over the wooden tables that were to her left.

Fresh blood dripped from the wood as scores of metal torture objects lay around the room but that wasn’t what shocked her.

It was the whimpering that came from the far corner.

Looking over her shoulder at Frieda, Krista saw the way the Briton’s lip twist in disgust, before she turned back and headed towards the back of the room.

And it was there, trapped in a metal cage like animals, that three young women were shivering from the cold as blood covered their bodies.

Krista looked upon them with anger as she wished that this had been discovered sooner.

That way she could have kept the master alive to exact the same torture on him what he had done to the others.

“Krista,” Frieda spoke softly, drawing her back to the present.

As her name was spoken, the girl at the front of the cage seemed to become aware of their presence as she turned her head slowly and locked eyes with Krista.

The breath left Krista’s chest as she gazed into the bluest eyes she had ever seen; they reminded Krista of Pompeia but these eyes were clearer.

And her hair was so black it merged with the shadows around her making her almost invisible if it wasn’t for those sparkling cerulean blue eyes.

“Get them out of there,” Krista ordered her men as she turned from the cage and hurried back up the steps as the smell grew too much for her.