Sorry, I have really taken my time with this one, sorry my dear readers, I got tied up with schoolwork etc. please forgive me. I will try my best to update the next chapter faster, just have in mind that I might get caught up with studying. :) I really appreciate all your support and remember, I love each and every one of you that take the time to click on the read button.
Best wishes, Your Fellow Conspirator Xxxxxx
It was before sunrise that Tobias, first and only son of King Marcus and rightful heir to the throne awoke from his previous night of restless slumbering. He blinked twice and rose from the haystack's prickly fingers, his feet pattered across the floor of the barn, stopping once to retrieve his possessions by the door.
He stopped, examining the object that nestled within the rough palm of his hand. The emblem of the royal family engraved upon the golden surface and plaited with gems forming the image of a lion rising on its front paws to counter a raven-haired eagle. The last remaining memory of his innocent upbringing and his beloved mother.
The boy clenched his hands; he wrapped the prized treasure into the folds of a dusty handkerchief and shoving it into his breast pocket, right above his heart. Whoever wanted the throne would have to go through him first. He hoisted himself onto the window ledge, he had chosen the perfect time for escape. The field was clear of guards, whoever on patrol today must have decided to slack off.
Slowly, carefully, Tobias leapt to the ground, stopping in a painful roll on the grass. That fool Augustus didn't actually think he could get away with this, he was tired of hiding like a coward. He had plans and a future…Revenge for the sake of his mother and then a whole new life of his own. Little did he know that was the least of his troubles, a higher power was stirring, one that he could do little to control.
It was barely afternoon and the marketplace was already cramped and amidst the excited murmurs of the upcoming ceremony, slave buyers were already gathered around the traders and their catch of the day. Beatrice sat under the glare of the sun, the coloured marker tied uncomfortably to her bound arms.
She was angry, confused and frightened, but above all, a kind of nervous excitement crept into her body. Beatrice could hear snatches of conversation in many languages. She was educated in foreign speech from when she was young. She could understand bits of the talk between the haggling bargain hunters and traders.
Beatrice eyes fluttered in alarm as a middle-aged bearded man walked side by side with the trader straight to her. They pointed at her and the buyer made gestures to lower the price while the trader shook his head with muttered a reply. Her eyebrows knitted together, she wasn't a possession or a vase that you bought home to look pretty on your shelf, she was a human too but of course, none of this mattered now.
Things weren't looking too good for her, the bearded man was nodding in approval to the price and trader held his hand outstretched for the money. Then at of the blue, a handsome young man made his way up to them, 'I do not think that such a pretty girl would be worth just 1000 denarii, I propose to you 80,000 denarii.'
He smiled when both trader and competitor stared at him in wide-eyes disbelief. A typical pretty girl would cost 50,000 if she was lucky but this rich young noble must be mad to give up 80,000 for such an ordinary plain specimen.
'May I interest you in perhaps another, better offer my lord?' asked the trader politely, changing his entire stance towards the new buyer. Say no, please, begged Beatrice subconsciously, she knew that the young man would never give that price for just her. Perhaps he was just playing a game, she thought to herself sadly.
But the young man laughed, 'No, no, only this one will do; only she shall be fit to be my wife.'
Everyone gaped as he handed over the money and freed Beatrice from her bonds, 'I like my wives when they are young and well-kept for, not old and bound at their waists like chickens,' he explained with a mock scolding smile.
Beatrice blushed horribly as he took her hand and gently drove her to a secluded spot away from the people and the noise. What will happen now? I'm not too young here to be a wife, but I don't want to be one just yet, she mused quietly. They stood under an arch and in the shade of the buildings around them. At a closer inspection, he was even more good-looking and now she realised, quite feminie looking with his soft golden hairs that seemed to be woven with light and his intelligent, mysterious pools of grey.
Her new owner shed his hood and only then did Beatrice realise he was in fact a she! 'Take this,' the woman requested coldly, a satchel full of jangling coins appeared in Beatrice's hands, 'I was almost too late, next time I mightn't be able to save you again like I did today.' She said as if she expected Beatrice to throw herself and beg for forgiveness at her feet.
Then the figure melted into the stone foundations of the buildings leaving not a trance that she was there only moments before except for the satchel that weighed so heavily on Beatrice's shoulders.
The tension atop Mount Olympus was building to dangerously high level. A thief had snuck into the throne room unseen and had stolen all of the god's immortal weapons. Most of them pointed fingers at Athena behind her back, she had been the only god who hadn't lost her precious symbol of power.
Everyone knew of course that it would be extremely foolish to say it aloud or even have to think it. Pallas's Athena's bark was almost always worse than her bite. Their weapons, the main source of their power was gone meant that they were basically next to powerless, if the wisdom goddess were to overthrow Mount Olympus they would defenceless in the face of her power. All the gods had sensed something very ancient and powerful shifting for centuries beneath the rubble of Tartarus.
'Kronos is awakening,' said Athena at the head of the godly Council of War, clad in full scale war armour, 'Apollo my half-brother, has your oracle in Delphi spoken?'
'Sadly not yet, she is due to reveal her prophecy in the grand city of Rome at midday at your gathering,' Apollo muttered ruefully.
'Oh yes, I almost forgot the rift between the proud Greeks and Romans,' sighed Athena, 'my grandfather is wise to choose this time to begin his plan of mass destruction, with all of you powerless and the countries deciding waging war against one another.'
'Yes,' sighed Ares, rubbing his hands gleefully, 'we must let them fight.'
'No! We await the oracle's prophecy and until then we must amass our own troops, perhaps the Fate's plans will solve our troubles once and for all,' Athena sat back on her throne, doubtful of her own words, the young Greek noblewoman left forgotten for now.
Here the Q and A:
Q:What's your favorite movie adaption?
