Roman Flames

Chapter Thirty-Five: Not My Beautiful Rome

Chapter Thirty-Five: Not My Beautiful Rome

Vespera

I retched again in my cell in the corner I had now dedicated for such things. I had been having trouble keeping the meager meals down, and I grew increasingly worried because as of now, that was my only source of nutrition.

When I finished returning my last meal, I crawled to the opposite corner and curled my knees to my chest. My stomach still didn't feel right, but I didn't vomit anymore. Instead, my heart pounded in my chest with anxiety. Sanctius still hadn't returned from seeing the Emperor, and I was afraid of what Nero would do to him. Or had already done to him. As much as I feared for my life, I feared for Sanctius's about twenty times more, and I felt so helpless. God knew there was nothing I could do until they released me, and even if they did, I had no plans of what I could do.

I took a deep breath and got on my knees to pray. I asked God to help me find an answer to our problem, to help me deliver us to freedom. And most of all, to keep us safe. I was still praying when I heard the footsteps of a guard coming toward my cell. It was when he put the key into my lock that I stood up immediately and my heart started pounding with hope and fear.

"Am I being released?" I asked, loading my emotions into four words only. If I really were being released, it could mean two things—Sanctius had been successful and gotten us both out, or he had traded his life for mine. I was terrified.

The guard just closed the cell door behind him and chuckled. "No," he answered, with a slightly malicious grin.

I frowned. "Then what..."

"I hear the Christians do it best," he stated, coming closer to me. I backed up into the wall and he cornered me by putting his hands on either side of my head. "You are always on your knees anyway."

My stomach roiled and I felt sick. "I am not getting on my knees for you," I spat. Suddenly he drew a dagger and pointed it at my throat.

"Yes, you are," he growled, "And you're going to be a good whore and protest no more."

 I swallowed, trying not to show fear. I think the anger was what showed on my face. "I hope you burst," I snarled. Contemptuously, I dropped to my knees, and through his tunic I could see he was...excited. He lifted the hem up and my stomach protested one last time. I couldn't hold it back. I vomited all over the guard's sandals without mercy, the last bit of my meal ending up between his toes.

"Gods!" he cried, backing away from me. He looked disgusted—a much better expression than lust—and he left with that very look on his face. His nose was pinched and his mouth downturned, and I thanked God for the timely sickness, even if I was still a prisoner.

About a few hours later, I awoke from a nap. Every time I got sick back at home, I would always take a draught of whatever our servant could concoct, and I would take a nap. I'd feel instantly better. And I did feel better now—so much, in fact, I was craving the strangest mixture of food. I really wanted fish right now, along with olives and meat. Unfortunately, I knew I wouldn't be getting that for a while. At least, not while I was here. I really needed to stop emptying my meals.

"Get in, quit your fighting!" shouted a guard who was just bursting through the door of the dungeon. Whoever was protesting was crying out in pain, and I realized it was my husband. He has been gone all of yesterday, and I was beginning to think I would never see him again. My chest flooded with relief and I nearly cried.

"Sanctius!" I called, and despite our situation, I was smiling. I crawled to the bars to see if I could catch a glimpse before he was thrown into his cell. He looked bloody, almost beyond recognition. "No!" I bit my lip as they put him away. I knew he was in pain and I hated seeing him like that. The guard spat some nasty words his way and left, the silence settling around us uncomfortably. Sanctius was wheezing. "Sanctius, my love," I said desperately, my voice cracking.