New chapter everyone (lol I know, amazing!)
Please please please review! Stick with it, things will get worse before they get better. But don't give up!
"It has been three weeks, Kalyca," murmured Calliliana one morning, as she tenderly nursed the little Leander. "Three weeks. Why has my husband not returned?" Although she attempted to hide the terror in her voice from the old woman, her fear for Leander was evident in everything that she did. The unshed tears in the lovely green eyes of the beautiful young maiden, the slow, almost painful way that she dragged her slender young body about her daily tasks, the tremble of her full red lips—all spoke to Kalyca more than a thousand words. She gently massaged the slim shoulders of the maiden.
"I know, Child, I know. I miss him as well." Little Leander stirred in his mother's arms, and his eyes met hers once more. The tears that had been threatening all day to spill fell then, bathing the child until he whimpered in discomfort. Kalyca shook her head sorrowfully, and gently took the babe. Calliliana covered her face with her hands, and gave vent to the bitter anguish which filled her soul with its poisonous gall.
"What if they do not release him?" she wailed, rocking herself back and forth on her folded legs. "What if…what if Leander never sees his son?" Kalyca kissed the tip of the infant's nose and placed her arms around the shoulders of the weeping maiden.
"God is good, My Girl. Though you may not see Him in all that is occurring…wait. Wait. He has a purpose in all of this."
"I will go to him." Calliliana rose, gently pushing aside the caressing arms of her comforter and standing beside her. Her cerulean eyes flashed emerald fire, her beauteous face was devoid of any color, with the exception of two bright flames that burned hotly in her cheeks, and her lips quivered. Kalyca stood back, frightened almost by the unnatural beauty of the determined girl before her.
"Where…how…" The young wife took her hands.
"The prisons of course, and I will go now."
"But the baby…" Calliliana moved her face so close to that of the old woman, she could feel the intensity of her hot breath upon her face.
"Please…please say that you will watch him for me." Kalyca sighed and pulled away, her heart heavy within her.
"Do you know what may happen to you, Girl? A woman as young and lovely as yourself, traveling among the heathen Romans…"
"Do not fear for me. I know how to take care of myself." Calliliana took down a long black scarf, and wove it about her until the splendor of her face and the glory of her bright hair were concealed beneath its shadowy masses. She then donned a cloak of the same ebony hue—even the old woman who had watched her transform herself had to admit that she never would have recognized her. the maiden crossed to the cradle, and tenderly stroked the face of her now sleeping babe. "And so I go," she whispered, as if to the very air itself. As she grasped a small loaf of bread and pouch of coins and concealed them in her vestments, she added, "do not wait for me. I shall return, most likely, well after nightfall." She heartily kissed the old woman on both cheeks and embraced her tightly once more. With a sudden energy she did know that she still possessed, Kalyca grasped the girl by the shoulders.
"Do not trust too well in your status of "wife", Calliliana. You do not know the men of Rome as do I." Tears cascaded down her age-furrowed face, but the brightness of her eyes bespoke of the beauty she must once have possessed. "I was first purchased in Rome to be the plaything of a rich nobleman…he used he well, and there were others after him. I was old, Child, old and worn with years of pain and sorrow when your husband discovered me in the slave market once more and took pity upon me. You may thank God daily, Child, that one such as you, with all your beauty and grace, was not condemned to the same fate as was I."
"But I do thank God…" Kalyca pulled the maiden into a tight embrace, her tears wetting her to the skin.
"Remember this. You are but a slave girl, a lovely slave girl, to a criminal. You and your honor are nothing more to these Romans. You must be careful…" Calliliana gently pulled away from the woman.
"I will be. Take good care of my son." With one last look at the little old woman, so spent with years of grief and heartache, with one final glimpse of her beloved son, the young woman turned and made her way towards the prisons of Rome.
Without a word.
Without a look.
Without a sound.
"So, how do you fare today?" Leander could barely open his eyes, so weary was he from so many sleepless nights as a result of the pain inflicted over and over again upon his stomach. The pain of every breath was like hell-fire to his tormented lungs. Marcus stifled a gurgle of mirth deep within his throat as he saw his former rival, curled into the fetal position upon the filthy floor, his arms hanging limply from his chains. "Now this," he thought to himself, "this is the ambrosia of revenge!"
"Not as badly as you might think," Maximinus gasped in reply, attempting to stifle the anguish that coursed through his body with every breath that he took. Agrippa laughed and kicked him once more in the stomach, watching with satisfaction the blood that spewed from his mouth and onto the floor.
"You cannot imagine how that thrills me." He stooped so that his face was on a level with the tormented man, and even his hardened heart could not help but admire the courage in the thundering blue eyes that met with his. "I have come for one purpose: to tell you that your fate has been decided." Fury filled the face of the young Roman.
"Without a trial?" Marcus nodded, an evil shark-smile playing on his lips.
"Criminals such as you need none. I made sure of that." He stood, and beckoned to a shadow that had been standing near the door. Raising his eyes, Leander saw with relief that the figure was that of a young boy, holding a pitcher of water and a thick cloth in his arms. A look of pure terror filled his face, and the youth continued glancing at Agrippa often as if to discern whether or not a beating was in store for him. "Adrian will attend to you. I wish to have you a little more presentable when you meet your end." To the shock and disappointment of the centurion, there were no fear in the eyes that boldly met his own.
"And what is that to be?" Agrippa smirked and said a word that, while no outward signs showed in the face of the young man, turned the blood of his body to ice with fear. Marcus waited for a signal from the young man of his fear, waited for him to plead with him for mercy—but none of it came. He growled low in his throat, and the look upon the face of the young slave lad became positively dreadful to look upon.
"Now Adrian!" he barked, storming on his heel. "We must have this man ready for tonight!"