Beloved (68 page)

“Never!” she said. “What on earth is it?”

“The stink of human misery,” he answered her.

Glancing around her as she followed after the jailor, Zenobia shuddered with distaste. They were moving down a flight of stairs and she could see that both the steps and the walls were slippery with slime. Pitch torches stuck in crude iron holders lit the way, flickering smokily and eerily. Reaching the bottom of the steps, he led her along a corridor Lined with small wooden doors; there was no sound but the occasional rustle of rodents in the straw that lined the way. At the very end of the corridor he stopped, removed his key ring from his belt, and unlocked a door.

“In there, my fine lady,” he said, pointing through the open door.

Zenobia ducked her head as she moved through the entry and into the cell. Behind her the door slammed, and she heard the lock scraping as the jailor turned the key in it. A quick look around the room convinced her that she was alone, and she breathed easier. Free now to explore her surroundings, she noted that the cell was small and obviously below ground level, for there was no window. A small pitch torch lit it, and for that she was grateful. If she had been thrown into darkness it would have been utterly terrifying, like being buried alive in one’s tomb. There was straw on the floor, and in an alcove in the wall a cracked pitcher of tepid water had been set. There was nothing else to see, and so she sat down on the floor to wait. After a while she dozed.

She was startled awake by the sound of the key in the lock again, and quickly scrambled to her feet with pounding heart to face two men who came into the cell.

“You may close the door,” one of the men said to the jailor, who instantly complied.

The other turned to Zenobia and bowed politely. “Majesty, I am Celsus, the physician. I have been appointed by the senate to examine you to determine whether or not you are with child.”

“I understand,” Zenobia replied. “What would you have me do, Celsus?”

The physician looked to the other man. “This is an impossible place in which to examine a patient, Senator.”

“Nevertheless the senate commands it,” was the reply.

“Does the senate think I might have a
clean
basin with some warm water, and additional light, Senator?”

The senator flushed. “Of course. You may see to it while I entertain Queen Zenobia. Hurry! This place is disgusting, and I wish to leave as quickly as possible.”

The physician bowed sarcastically, called to the jailor, and left with him to obtain what he needed. The other man looked long at Zenobia, finally saying, “I am Senator Valerian Hostilius, Majesty. I have been appointed by the senate to oversee this examination.”

“I remember you, Senator. I believe you wished to feed me to the lions the last time we met,” Zenobia said scornfully.

“It would have been better if the senate had listened to me,” Hostilius said. “We can have no heirs of Aurelian!”

“I am not with child, Senator,” Zenobia said calmly.

“So you say! So you say! I, however, was in the Temple of the Unconquerable Sun the night of the rites. The emperor was like a stallion that night!
He was the god! He was!
And you are the goddess! Even I can see it.” Hostilius licked his lips excitedly. “Every one of the women he took that night has conceived a child, and you tell me you are
not
with child. I will not believe it unless the physician says it is so!”

“Those women coupled with every man at that obscene orgy, not just the emperor,” Zenobia snapped at him. “Aurelian is not capable of siring a child! His own wife says it.” Then a horrifying thought crossed her mind. “What has happened to those women that Aurelian took that night?” she asked.

“Dead!” was his answer. “All dead. We could have no spawn of Aurelian coming back to haunt us.”

“By the gods,” she whispered, “you are all mad!”

At that moment the physician returned with the jailor, and the required items. While the jailor set more light about the cell, the physician placed his basin of warm water upon the alcove shelf and washed his hands.

“You will have to disrobe, Majesty,” he said somewhat apologetically, and then snapped at the openmouthed jailor, “Out! Out, you vermin! There is nothing for you to see here.” The jailor scuttled away slamming the door as he went.

“Must
he
be here?” Zenobia demanded, looking at Hostilius.

“I remain on the senate’s orders lest you coerce this man into lying.”

“What?”
Celsus looked outraged. “My reputation is one of honesty, Valerian Hostilius!”

“Nonetheless I remain on the senate’s orders,” was the pompous reply.

Celsus looked to Zenobia. “I am sorry, Majesty. I have never before examined a patient under such circumstances, and I do apologize.”

She nodded sympathetically at him, and then said, “What must I do?”

“When you have disrobed, you will please to lie upon the straw here.”

Ignoring Hostilius, Zenobia removed her clothing and lay down upon the straw. She could feel the chill of the cell now, and involuntarily she shuddered. His look offered commiseration.

The physician palpated her stomach and examined her breasts. Then taking infinite care not to hurt her, he gently examined her internally. Finally satisfied, Celsus arose from his position on the floor and, washing his hands again, said, “Queen Zenobia is
not
with child, Senator. I will tender my report in writing to the senate, but you may tell them that she is absolutely, positively not with child.”

Zenobia sat up, somewhat lightheaded. “Then I can be released?”

“Unless the senate has other reasons for retaining you in custody, Majesty, I can see no reason why you can’t be released now.” He looked to Hostilius. “Senator?”

“You are not empowered to make official decisions, physician. You have done your duty, now get you gone!”

Zenobia struggled to her feet, her instincts warning her of impending danger.

Celsus took a quick look at Hostilius, and then said, “I will wait for you, Senator. We came together, we shall leave together.”

Hostilius threw him a furious look, swallowed visibly, and then muttered, “Very well, I am ready.”

Celsus bowed to Zenobia. “Again, Majesty, I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Her eyes spoke her thanks to him before he turned and left the cell with the senator. Slowly Zenobia redressed, then sat back down to await her release. The extra lamps that the jailor had brought helped to cast a more cheerful light about the grim cell, and they even released a bit of warmth into the chill air. The time crawled by. In an effort to make it go faster she began to sing softly to herself.

Suddenly the door to the cell creaked open, and it occurred to
Zenobia that she hadn’t heard the key in the lock. She rose to face Hostilius. He smiled nastily at her.

“You thought that you were rid of me, didn’t you?” he leered.

The door closed behind him. Now she heard the key turning in the lock. “What do you want, Senator?” she said, keeping her voice steady.

“You haunt me,” Hostilius said. “Ever since
that
night in the Temple of the Unconquerable Sun, when I saw how beautiful you are, and how passionate, I have wanted you! Soon Aurelian will be dead. The plot is made, the conspirators chosen. It is only a matter of time, and he will be dead! You will need a new protector, Zenobia. You will need someone powerful to take care of you. The empire can be harsh with its captives, but if you will accept my protection, I will shower you with riches!”

Zenobia stared at the senator in genuine surprise, and then she began to laugh. Her laughter shattered the heavy silence of the prison cell, and echoed from wall to wall with open mockery. Hostilius started with surprise, then grew red with anger; but before he could speak she regained control of herself, and said, “You have to be jesting, Valerian Hostilius! I am Zenobia, the Queen of Palmyra, not some expensive courtesan for hire.”

“You are an imperial captive, and Aurelian’s whore!” he reminded her.

“I am indeed an imperial captive,” she snapped back at him, “but if the emperor is to be deposed, then I will no longer have to be
his whore
, Senator, and I will most certainly not be
yours!
”

“I want you!”
He moved toward her, the violence of his lust clear in his eyes, in his movements.

Her eyes swept the tiny cell for something to defend herself with, but there was nothing. Now it was Hostilius, seeing her predicament, who laughed. “If you harm me I will complain to the senate,” she threatened him. “The jailor will identify you, Hostilius, and the physician saw your intent.”

“The jailor has been well paid to keep his mouth shut, and Celsus did not see me return.” He reached out for her, and she shrank back against the wall. He chuckled, delighted by her reticence. “Come now,” he wheedled. “I won’t hurt you. I am said to be a good lover, and you are no maid to be coy with me.”

She looked at him, horrified. He was a nasty little man, she thought, at least two inches shorter than she, with a balding head of sparse black hair; a fat slug of a man with pudgy, plump hands. He was so white that he seemed almost bloodless.

“You will take off your clothes for me,” he said in a soft, dangerous-sounding voice.

“I will not!”

From among the folds of his tunic and toga he suddenly withdrew a small dog whip. “I am very proficient with this,” he said, flicking it perilously near her face. “I could put out your eye should I choose to do so.” She stood as still as a flushed rabbit as he rubbed the whip against her cheek. “Take off your clothes, Zenobia,” he repeated.

“You pig!” she hissed at him.

“Take off your clothes,” he smiled, knowing that he had won.

As she slowly removed her tunic dress she debated the wisdom of physically attacking him. She was taller than the senator, but he outweighed her considerably. What would she do with him if she overpowered him? The jailor certainly wasn’t going to come to her aid. It was an impossible situation, and Hostilius decided the matter by grabbing one of her arms as she freed herself of her clothing, yanking it up, and imprisoning it within a wall manacle. She gasped as the cold iron bracelet snapped shut about her wrist.

“What are you doing?” she cried, frightened now.

“Don’t worry,” he soothed her as he fastened her other wrist within the restraint. “I have the key to unlock you afterward.”

She hung now from the wall, her toes just barely grazing the straw on the floor. The wall behind her was cold and wet, causing her to arch her body outward. With trembling fingers Hostilius slowly slid her garments over her hips and down her legs to the floor. Then he stood back and stared at her. His eyes were glazed with desire, his mouth hung slack with his lechery.

Finally he spoke, his voice hoarse with hunger. “You are even more beautiful than I remember.” As he groaned she saw a wet stain begin to spread on his toga, and she realized with disgust that he had been unable to contain himself.

She hoped that having spilled his seed upon the straw he would be unable to continue, but Hostilius did not even appear to notice what had happened, and reached out to touch her breasts. Zenobia shrank from him, her back making contact with the wet, cold stones of the cell wall. His fleshy fingers began to brush the warmth of her skin, slowly at first, and then as his lust caught up with him, he grasped her breasts in his two hands and squeezed fiercely, making her wince with pain, leaving maries upon her pale golden flesh. With a moan he pressed up close against her, his head
swiveling swiftly to find a nipple and then suck it deep within his mouth.

He drew insistentiy upon her breast, like a hungry child, his mouth ferocious and demanding. She was totally repelled by him, and struggled to twist her body away from him, but he merely grasped her hips to hold her still while he continued his obscene parody. Having wrung all he could from one breast, his balding head moved to the other.

“You are disgusting!” she said. “You are totally repellent to me! Can you not function normally with a woman? Must you force them in order to obtain satisfaction?”

In answer he bit down upon her breast, and she cried out in pain, her arms jerking instinctively to strike him. His hands moved around behind her, crushing her buttocks in a brutal grip. She tried to retaliate, drawing her knees up, and then kicking out at him. Her numbed feet made contact with his soft middle, and Hostilius staggered back from Zenobia with an “offff!” sound. Regaining his balance, he came at her, the little dog whip flying, cutting into her tender thighs and belly, making her cry out in pain again. Still she taunted him, “Monster! Slithering reptile! Free me, and then attempt your rape! You are not man enough!”

“You will see how masculine I am, bitch,” he snarled at her, “when I fuck you! You will beg me to continue! To never stop!” The little whip slashed at her again and again, and she was bleeding from several small cuts on her legs and stomach.

Zenobia was more angry than frightened now, and she continued to mock him. “You are a pig, Hostilius! You have already spilled your seed in your lust, and I do not believe that you can replenish it! It is probably the first time in months that you were able to rise to the occasion!”

“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.”