David McAfee - 61 A.D.

She hadn’t gone far before she was accosted by several Roman legionaries who, upon recognizing the horse’s armor as belonging to the Iceni, tried to drag her from the saddle. Half a dozen pairs of hands grabbed her by her legs, her boots, her breeches, anywhere they could lay hands. A quick boot to the face of the closest opponent sent him sprawling backwards into the dusty street, clutching his broken nose and screaming in pain. But where he fell, two more took his place, clawing at her clothing and pulling her down. Baella soon found herself unable to fend off her attackers while maintaining her grip on the reins. They grabbed her by her cloak and pulled her backward, bending her over her saddle. One of the men grabbed a burning piece of wood and slapped the horse in the rump. The animal reared, throwing her from the saddle, and galloped away with Ramah still tied to its saddle.

“No!” Baella shot to her feet and started to give chase, but a dozen legionaries stood in her way. She hacked at them with her claws and drove her fists into their torsos, but she could not break through fast enough.

She watched helplessly as the horse disappeared around a corner, carrying all her plans with it.

Lannosea’s screams mingled with those of the dying as she was dragged through the city streets. She kicked and clawed and twisted her body, but it was no use. Her captors had bound her hands well, and did not hesitate to administer punishment of their own in between removing her boots and armor and unstrapping her sword belt. One hard punch to her solar plexus caused her to double over in pain, gasping for breath. She vomited into the bag, tasting blood as well as bile. The men laughed, yanked her upright and pulled her on.

After what felt like hours, she felt the ground beneath her change. It was no longer pebbles and dirt under her bare feet, but solid wood. They had dragged her into a building. Knowing what would come next, she redoubled her efforts to kick and punch her way free. Another solid punch to her abdomen sent her to the floor.

“Here now, princess,” a voice said. “Just be calm and this will be over soon. Or you can struggle and fight back if you prefer. The result will be the same. In any case, some of us like it better that way.” His words left little doubt as to their intentions. Already they had stripped her of her armor, leaving her clad only in a loose sleeveless blouse and soft breeches.

Several of the men grunted in laughter. The bag came off her head, spraying her vomit all over the floor and her chest.

She was surrounded by six grinning men dressed in dirty rags. None of them were legionaries, but their intent was the same. These were the brigands who stayed in the city despite the threat of an invading army, probably planning to steal everything the people who fled left behind. Little did they know the invading Iceni would not take prisoners or bribes. Lannosea took a small amount of satisfaction in that knowledge as two of the men pinned her legs to the floor, while another held her wrists above her head, leaving three of them to fondle her any way they pleased.

“Her blouse is dirty,” one said. She tried to turn her body away and get loose, but the man holding her wrists pulled hard, sending a wave of pain into her shoulders. The first man reached down and ripped the blouse open, revealing her bare breasts. The other men sucked in their breath. She had forgone wearing any undergarments in an attempt to fit into her armor.

“How about a kiss, princess?” the man who’d ripped her blouse open said, and leaned over to plant his filthy lips on her face.

She spat at him.

He wiped the spittle from his eye and grinned, then he punched her in the belly hard enough for her vision to fade for a moment as she struggled to breathe. The pain was intense. White hot and angry, much worse than anything she’d ever felt before. She gasped as she tried to feed air to her starving lungs, but she couldn’t suck it in fast enough. She groaned, and blackness gathered around the edges of her vision.

“That’s right, princess,” the man said. “Dago can be rough, too. Now let’s have that kiss.”

Dago straddled her, placing one hand on the floor and the other on her crotch. His fingers rubbed and pinched as he leaned in for another attempt at a kiss. She turned her face to the side and felt his lips on her neck, followed by a sharp pain. He was biting her! Like an animal! She shuddered and tried to shove him off her, but he was too heavy and she was too weak. Lannosea stopped fighting, praying only that it would be over quick.

“You like that, pri-”

Dago’s arms stiffened as his question cut off into a gurgle, and something warm and wet sprayed her face. At first she thought he had spit on her, but then his whole body went limp. Suddenly the pressure on her feet and wrists was gone, and the room around her erupted into angry shouts. She opened her eyes to see Dago, still straddling her, looking down at his torso.

Blood poured from four holes in the middle of his chest. It flowed into the dirty cloth of his shirt and rolled downward in a great red stain that grew larger as she watched. Lannosea wasted no time scooting out from under him and rising to her feet. He never seemed to notice. His dazed eyes remained focused on his ruined chest, watching as his life’s blood dripped onto the floor. He reached his hand to the wound and touched one of the holes. His fingers came away red with blood. He brought the hand to his face and stared at it for a moment, his expression confused. Then he looked up at Lannosea, coughed twice, and fell face first to the floor.

That’s one, she thought.

Around her, the other men shouted and shuffled around. To her left, one of them shouted a curse that turned into a long, pain-filled scream, which then cut off in a wet gurgle. Something round and heavy rolled by Lannosea’s feet, leaving a trail of sticky red blood behind it. When it came to a stop, still dripping blood from the shredded neck, she recognized the head as one of her attackers.

That’s two.

Lannosea crawled backward into the shadows of the room, unable to regain her feet due to the searing pain in her belly. Dago had punched her, but it felt like he’d left a blade in her flesh. Looking down, she was amazed to find the flesh unbroken and bloodless, if a bit bruised. She couldn’t see much else, but she heard the sound of fighting all around her. Her attackers fought with sword and fist, but seemed to be losing. Had some Iceni come upon the scene and decided to rescue their princess? She clutched the torn edges of her blouse and tied them together, covering her breasts. When she realized what she was doing, she chuckled. What good was modesty at a time like this? Still, she knotted the ends together before planting her palms on the floor and pushing herself up.

She rose on unsteady legs, trying to get a better look. Her knees wobbled, and she grabbed the nearest wall to steady herself. The pain in her belly flared, and the darkness crept back into the edges of her sight. She shut her eyes and breathed deep, willing the pain to fade. After a time, she was able to open her eyes, but the room was just as lightless as it had been before. For the first time, she noticed that something warm and wet was running down her legs. Had Dago bled that much on her?

Another grunt of pain and another body thumped to the floor, this time falling into the small pool of light in the center of the room. Lannosea gasped. His throat had been ripped open, and a thin trickle of blood pooled underneath. Worse yet, he was still alive, watching as his blood poured from his ruined throat. For a moment, she felt a twinge of pity. Then she remembered what the man and his cohorts were going to do to her.