"I admire your strength." Adrian twisted the liquid from the damp cloth onto the cold stone floor, realizing as he did so that water was wrung from his own eyes as well. He turned to the older man then, a question burning in his coal-black eyes. "Who is this Man," he murmured, his voice low, "Who teaches men how to die?"
Before he could be answered, the door to the fetid cell was flung open to reveal Marcus Agrippa, a sinister sneer on his lips. Leander met his glare bravely.
"It is time, then?" The centurion struck him a mighty blow across the face.
"I shall be the one to do the questioning, Vermin. On your feet." Adrian's eyes grew large within his milk-white face.
"On…on his feet, Sir? But he can barely breathe…" Wordlessly Agrippa struck the lad so heartily he lost his balance and fell to the filthy floor, clutching his wounded face. He unfastened the chains that bound Leander to the wall, and roughly pulled him to his feet.
"Follow me." Maximinus knew better than to argue, although his heart ached within him as he cast a furtive glance at the poor boy Adrian; who was manfully attempting to choke his sobs of pain into oblivion.
With an exclamation of surprise, Calliliana started up from her slumber. The room was painted in the shadows cast by the setting sun; indeed, it was almost too dark to see anything at all. "Leander?" she whispered, feeling about her for her husband, "where am I? Why was I asleep on the flo…?" Then she remembered. She was not in her home, and her husband was certainly not with her…indeed, that was why she was here! Here in this foul hell-hole of a Roman dungeon languished the man she loved more than her life. That, in and of itself was why she was here.
Calliliana did not stand; she remained lying upon the floor in the fetal position, her emerald eyes casting wary glances about her. The sun was high when the centurion had left her to fetch her husband…and now night blanketed her with its pall of darkness. Where was he? Why had he not come?
At just that moment, she felt a slight reverberation in her body—the floor was undulating gently beneath her with the motion of footsteps! Calliliana struggled to force her breathing to be regular as she lifted her head and watched as the door to the room slowly squealed open…
And there he stood. The fading light of a fearful day cast its dying glow upon him, and it appeared to the maiden as thus he stood, that he was some great hero of old come to life once more.
He did not see her. He must not have seen her, or he would have rushed to take her in his arms at once, he would have caressed away her fears and covered her burning lips with a passion so urgent it would inspire fear to rival the desire in her heart and body. The girl watched as her husband took a step into the room, his summer-storm eyes flashing as they attempted to discern what lay in store for him there.
"Leander?" the young man heard his name, uttered almost fearfully in the stillness by the voice of a child. He looked about him frantically, wishing that the lighting in the room were so that he could see who called him—he could only just discern a small figure rising from the floor. He started towards it.
"Who are you?" he asked gently. A little sob answered his query.
"Though it is so dark, do you not know me?" A chill ran down Leander's spine as the voice, no longer the voice of a frightened child, but that of a most longed-for woman, once more breathed, "Leander."
With a stride that more closely resembled a leap, Maximinus darted forward and caught his wife in his arms; as Agrippa watched from behind the grating in the door, the two darkened forms melded as one. Leander was a man, a true man, in every sense of the word. Agrippa knew this well; who else would have been able to endure the torture of both body and mind with so fortuitous a grace as had he? As he listened to the labored breathing of the lovers, perhaps the seasoned soldier respected his rival more than ever for what he did next with no shame and no remorse.
He wept.
"My Darling," the maiden sobbed, as she clutched feverishly at her husband, as if afraid that which had taken him from her would snatch him away again, "oh, how I have missed you!" Maximinus gently pulled away from her, and placed a gentle kiss upon her tear stained face.
"And I you." With one fluid motion, the young man swept the sobbing girl into his arms (forgetting his pain for the moment) and settled her in his lap on the floor. He gently kissed away the tears which poured from her lovely eyes, and ran his strong hands over her glorious hair. "How are you?" he questioned quietly, once her sobs had abated. The young woman cuddled into his broad chest, unaware of the great pain that caused him.
"I…I miss you. All three of us miss you!" A sudden question filled Leander's body and mind.
"Three…what do you mean three?" he asked. With a bright smile, Calliliana cast aside her cloak to reveal her figure, restored now to its former beauty—at the sight of it, her husband shook with desire.
"I have honored you, my husband. I have given you a son!" For a moment, Leander forgot where they were, forgot who was watching, forgot what was about to happen to him. He grabbed the young woman around the waist tenderly, and pressed her against him. The bright bolts of pain that flashed before his eyes did nothing to dampen his happiness—even if he was to die, he had a son! A SON! The lifeblood of his body and that of his wife…his flesh…her flesh…a son!
"How proud I am of you!" he murmured against her hair, as his hands traveled slowly up her back to her neck. He tugged his fingers through the luxurious masses of her golden hair, twisted it away from her face, and gently nibbled her throat and earlobe. She sighed happily, and wound one slender arm around his neck, while she massaged the muscles of his stomach—or, she wished to.
With a sharp hiss of pain, the young man released her and started back, his hand moving to protectively cover his abdomen. Fear filled the maiden's eyes as she read the pain in his own.
"Oh dear Lord, what have they done to you?" she cried, fury coloring her face. Leander set his jaw and attempted to smile; it would be of no use to infuriate her by speaking of his treatment.
"It is just a simple wound, Darling. Nothing time will not heal." Wordlessly, Calliliana ripped away the thin, dirty cloth of her husband's tunic enough to expose his stomach. She uttered a little cry at what she saw, and bit her lips to still the bile forcing its way up her throat.
The muscles of Leander's stomach were covered in hideous, green-black bruises so large it appeared as if all his flesh must appear the same. Some of the bloody wounds had festered, and a putrid slime was oozing from them. Calliliana wondered why she had not smelt it before.
"What have they DONE to you?" she wailed, leaping from his lap and kneeling before him. The young man covered her mouth with his large hand, his eyes darting frantically about the room.
"Hush, Little One. Agrippa is watching everything…be careful what you say. He may hear you!"
"Then let him hear me!" the girl was furious past all reason now—furious enough to commit a folly as grave as death. "Let him hear what a weak, cowardly, sniveling little DOG he is, to beat an innocent prisoner who cannot DEFEND himself! Let him hear that I think nothing of the woman who bore him, who did not take the time to teach him what a real man is. Let him hear me when I say that I see nothing of MANHOOD about him. NOTHING at all. LET HIM HEAR ME!"
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