Romanowski and Rosemary

17. Mark of the damned

Without speaking a word, he fetched a small dagger from his robes and laid it at my feet. It was beautiful, like a prized possession he had cherished. The snakes entwining on the hilt told it was the Caduceus. Weapon of God Hermes, a symbol of healing.

I smiled as I hid it in my shabby robes.

This little dagger would heal me.

"Always remember, Gracious lady," he said, at last, his voice thick. "You are no less than a great warrior. This humble servant of Romanos bows before you," he bent on one knee to the ground, face lowered. A weak smile lifted my face.

We bid each other goodbye in silence, and I closed my eyes. Soon, Nael's heavy laughter echoed in the cave.

This time, a similar man with black messy hair matted on his forehead accompanied him. The fire torch he carried cast an eerie shadow on his grave face, emotionless eyes trained on me.

I couldn't miss the scalpel he'd gripped in his other hand.

My lips trembled. I was praying for Aphrodite to grant me an easy death. I prayed endlessly, so much that I could go mad anytime.

"This little priestess is a clever vixen, brother," Nael barked, encircling me. "Staring into her hopeless eyes alone would make you go berserk," he knelt before me, feathering a finger past my cheek in adoration. "Would make you want to hide her in your arms... be very gentle and loving to her... such magic she has in her lonesome gaze..." he whispered.

"You're sounding like a pup longing for his mistress' love." The other man, who looked much older than Nael, shook his head. He went over a large piece of rock and placing his scalpel; began to use a smaller stone to sharpen it.

The sound of the scalpel's metal scraping over the roughened stone crushed my heartbeat. As if someone was crumbling my heart like a piece of paper.

"Hah! I bet you would've acted like a dog if father hadn't ordered to sell her!" But the older brother paid no heed, focussed on sharpening the metal. I didn't know what would he use it for.

"Will it take my eyes out?" I asked slowly, and Nael's head whipped in my direction, thrilled.

"So excited to have your eyes removed, huh?" he sniggered, abruptly hauling me by the hair. "Why the fuck are you so eager to have your eyes cut out of your socket?"

"It's not sharp enough to take your eyes out, priestess," the other man chuckled, as if my words were amusing him.

My heart numbed. W- What would he use it for then...

"It's the Macairion, darling," Nael seized my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. "It's here to give you an identity."

Macairion was a surgical knife for the ancient Greeks. It would give me an... identity. How...

My heart, hammering against my chest, slowed a little when I felt the dagger pressing against my stomach. The presence of the small weapon was like a breath of relief entering me. My throat became heavy, pitied by my condition.

I never knew a weapon supposed to kill me could bring so much security to me.

"Nael, leave her hair, and don't be rough," the other man warned as he continued his work on the Macairion. "Men buy slaves for the beauty of their hair too and I heard you already broke a few of hers. Stop being such an animal."

Fear doused me when Nael left my hair, but now his grey eyes, glinting in obsessive longing, were staring at my lips.

No... No please no.