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XXI.

F laviushad been in Rome on business for the past ten days, closing a major deal: Amongstother fighting schools, his Ludus Flavianus would supply the Roman Games!Held in honour of Jupiter, the Games would start on the Kalends of September,and would last fifteen days, four of them comprising theatrical performances,the rest featuring chariot races, animal shows – and every sort of gladiatorialcombat.

But due to the large number of fights which would be scheduled for sucha huge event, the casualties amongst the fighting personnel were sure to beheavy indeed. Along with the numerous smaller events which focused on classicalhand-to-hand combats, major shows like the Roman Games also involved massiverecreations of famous battle scenes, requiring huge numbers of fighters. Evenone such production would demand more personnel than Flavius could comfortablyprovide at the moment, and he could ill afford to send his carefully selectedfighters, in whose training he had invested so much time and money, to sucha wholesale slaughter.

So he had reached an agreement with the organizing magistrate that the membersof his squad would only star in the main one-on-one bouts which attracted thelargest audiences. There, his more popular fighters stood a better chance ofbeing spared by the bloodthirsty crowds, even if they were to lose a fight.Even so, the outcome of a contest could never be certain; surely several prizedgladiators would find themselves passengers of Charon, the grim boatman whoplied the dark waters of the river Styx – the river called 'horror' – whichled into the underworld.

Still, Flavius was thrilled by the project, and not only because it wouldearn him a small fortune. Having been conferred with the honour of being anofficial supplier of the Roman Games, he had set foot into the big businessof gladiatorial sports, and a good performance by his squad could only establishhim there. If his school could grow and he could get a contract for a largenumber of fighters for the coming season, he would be set for life!

Apart from this major undertaking, Flavius had also negotiated a small, butprestigious arrangement with none other than Publius Aurelius Sejanus, thedesignated Prefect of the Praetorian Guard. Coming from an old, but not particularwealthy family, Sejanus had been in chronic financial trouble until he hadhad the good fortune of being adopted by Marcus Aurelius Meridius, a politicallyinfluential ex-consul who had noticed the potential of the ambitious youngman. The Gens Aurelia was one of the wealthiest families in Rome, andnow that he was a man of both status and wealth, Sejanus could actually affordthe luxurious lifestyle he had always led.

Amongst his many and varied interests, Sejanus had hit upon a rather unusualhobby which was considered highly inappropriate for a man of his patricianbackground. While in search of new entertainments for the Lucullan revelriesof the rich, he and some like-minded friends had discovered that mano-a-mano combatsbetween two scantily clad young women added a certain debauched zest to suchevents. It was of little concern to him that female gladiators were held inthe lowest regard, and considered to be even lower on the social scale thantheir male counterparts. For in a Rome eternally torn between a scandalizedcontempt for misconduct and the prurient appeal of the most lurid bacchanalsimaginable, Sejanus had stumbled upon a most agreeable way to exploit the empire'smoral hypocrisy. As a favourite of the emperor, he could well afford to ignorethe snobbishness of his old-fashioned peers – and accordingly he haddecided to have some girls of his own trained to be fighters at one of thefamily's country estates.

But opponents for his protegées were hard to find. There was onlyone school around Capua which had specialized in the training of female fighters,a school which also produced a number of the rare fist-fighting cestiatae. Theirname derived from the ancient Spartan sport of boxing with the cestus – woodenplates, sometimes garnished with metal studs, bound to wrists and fists; onlythe strongest and bravest of women could long survive in this discipline, whichdemanded courage greater than that of almost any other gladiator, since itsdauntless practitioners had to be trained to receive and endure blows ratherthan merely evade them. Cestus-fighting required courage of a high order,one to which few young women could aspire. But those who did were made forlife. Cestus fights to the death were rare, and even if one was stagedand promoted as such, a cestiata usually fell victim to a combinationof fatigue, loss of blood, and sheer pain, before death could claim her. The cestiatae weremuch too valuable to be lost casually, so most survived, prospered, and wereeventually freed. But girls who possessed the requisite attributes of endurance,fighting skill, courage and beauty, were as rare and as prized as vestal virgins.

It was the good fortune of Flavius that he could muster Byrria, the Thraciantigress, who had few rivals in this archaic but prestigious discipline, havingbeen trained to do battle with the cestus during her youth in Thrace.And so it was that Flavius and Sejanus had come to terms regarding a fightbetween Byrria and Sejanus' most promising girl. The young patrician had beenso confident of the fighting skills of his girl that he scheduled the boutto take place at his own villa in July, at a private banquet celebrating hiselevation to the post of Praetorian Prefect.

In the meantime, Flavius planned to increase his one-woman cestus departmentby training Taleena, who seemed to possess all of the virtues needed for sucha demanding discipline – not to mention a face and figure that wouldstir the loins of the pleasure-seeking sons of Rome. But unfortunately therewas no quick way to produce a capable cestiata; learning the art ofthe cestus required months, perhaps years, of training and practice – difficultand dangerous training that claimed half of the possible recruits before theyhad fought a single real battle – and the Gaul had yet to pass the standardbasic training required of all the gladiators in his employ.

* * *

Upon his return to the arena, Flavius had wastedno time in informing himself of the progress his recruits had made duringhis absence, and of course he had quickly learned of the incidents whichhad led to the fatal flogging of the young Iberian girl and the severe punishmentof the proud Avernian. He had not been unduly chagrined by the loss of theBaetican, since it was merely a cost of doing business; she had shown clearlythat she had no future as a fighter. By the time of her fatal 'accident'Flavius had become resigned to the idea of selling her to some lusty oldsenator with a taste for round-bottomed young girls in order to recoup hisinvestment. Selia, after all, had been something of a throw-in when he hadbought the other slaves from Balbinius.

As to the Gaul, the situation was rather more complicated. From the beginninghe had had misgivings that the defiant nature of the blue-eyed beauty who hadglared at him so fearlessly even while enmeshed in shackles on the wharf atOstia, would get her into trouble. So much so that he had almost encouragedByrria to cure his headstrong acquisition of her somewhat insolent nature.He hadn't needed an oracle to foretell that a rivalry would soon spring upbetween the two strong-willed women.

Calixtus had related to him, with more thangrudging approval, that the Gaul had not screamed once during her punishment.Being quite familiar with Byrria's expertise with the whip, Flavius had toagree with his chief-instructor that this was another testimonial to thecourage of the flaxen-haired beauty, the same kind of courage she had shownas she had silently endured her branding at her first day in his school.Musing about that impressive display of fortitude, Flavius caught himselfpicturing the golden-haired Gaul hanging naked from the whipping post, squirming,moaning, twisting under the flesh-searing strokes as she strove to cheatboth her tormentress and the leering audience of the prurient satisfactionof hearing her cry…

Knowing Byrria as he did, Flavius could wellimagine the ruthlessness with which his Thracian tigress had flogged theproud, long-legged blonde whom she seemed to have viewed as a rival fromthe moment they had met. Byrria had a history of displaying jealousy whenevera new female recruit arrived at the arena, and more than one novice had cometo regret meeting the high standards Flavius had set in regard to looks andskill.

But apart from Byrria, who had warmed hisbed for some time, Flavius had made it a point not to give in to the temptationsaccruing to a man in his position. He had always felt that exploiting thecharms of some of his female charges would lead to dissension and accusationsof favouritism. In fact, Byrria was a shining example of his theory thatit was good sense to keep business and privacy strictly apart – Calixtuswas probably not the only one who imagined that Byrria had earned her positionwith her sheath, not her sword. Flavius waswilling to concede that point to some extent – Byrria's talents atindoor sports even eclipsed her skills in the ring. Even so, he had nevermet a woman who could fight like the Thracian, and he couldn't think of anyonebetter suited for the post of the female lanista .Still, Byrria's appointment had never been well received by the other fighters.

In all fairness, Flavius had to admit thatByrria's jealousy of the Avernian wasn't completely unfounded. He had beenintrigued by the blonde Gaul's beauty ever since he had first seen her, shackledand all-but-naked, during the disembarkation of Balbinus' slaves at Ostia.But he had been surprised to find that thoughts of her filled both his wakingand sleeping hours, even during his trip to Rome – whose fleshpotsoffered every imaginable pleasure (and some he could not have imagined) toa man well-stocked with sesterces. Nevertheless he still retained a specialfascination for Taleena, the splendid young woman who combined beauty withfighting spirit and a will that had made her choose a place on the rower'sbench over a place a the side of a doting but demanding master likeBalbinus.

Byrria seemed to have sensed his drifting attention, because upon his returnlate the prior evening, she had met him at the door, wearing a skimpy garmentconsisting of two pieces of filigree chain mail. The halves of the sleeveless,low-cut top were held together by a coin-sized silver clasp that nestled betweenher pouting breasts whose fullness strained the fragile-looking fastener toits limit. The contrast between hard glittering metal and soft womanly fleshwas further enhanced by an expanse of bare belly-skin and the two brief trianglesof silvery meshwork that were held in place around her loins by a silver chain.The flickering light given off by the oil lamps in the room caused the gleamingmetal to shimmer seductively, even more so as it danced lightly over the temptingcontours of her body.

Flavius had felt his mouth dry and his manly erection stiffen as he tookin her charms. He had stared at her barely-concealed breasts hungrily, wonderinghow the tiny chain-links had teased her nipples to such a provocative pointinessthat they seemed to dent their erotic armour. His roving eyes had exploredthe long shapely legs that she had wrapped around his waist and neck and shoulderson so many prior occasions, but tonight Byrria had been in no mood for posingfor his pleasure, as she had done so artfully when first she had seduced him.

She had dragged him to their sleeping-room like a tigress dragging freshprey to her lair, brushing off his mild protests of fatigue from his journeywith contemptuous disdain. She had torn at his tunic with hands and teeth,and when he was naked she had attacked his genitals with single-minded dedication,stroking, cupping, kissing, licking, coordinating the movements of her bodywith the grace of a gymnast. She had stripped off her silvery breast-coveringand pressed the smoothness of his saliva-wet erection against and between herdark-nippled breasts until it rose from his groin in all of its virile glory.Then she had torn feverishly at the web of silver laces around her waist, whippedoff the scanty loin-cloth and climbed onto his phallus, to ride it with theskill and passion of a Minoan bull-rider, bouncing up and down on him untiltheir two bodies were bathed in sex-sweat, her interior muscles gripping, constricting,milking his swollen penis, while her hands alternately raked her nails acrosshis chest and then cupped and squeezed her own breasts in the throes of ananimalistic passion.

But throughout it all, Flavius could not put the image of the golden-hairedGaul out of his mind. In the sensual half-light of their bedchamber, he imaginedthat it was Taleena's tawny thighs that straddled him, her sensuous lips worshippinghis manhood, her luscious breasts embracing it, and her beautiful backsidebouncing on his thighs, and that it was her blonde-fringed woman slit whichwas trying to consume his pleasure-shaft with such voraciousness. As his frenziedlust mounted he imagined that Byrria had surprisedthe amorous lovers, and that in her wrath she was sweeping her dreadful lashacross Taleena's bare back even as the blonde rocked back and forth on hisraging erection. Caught in his erotic reverie, Flavius lowered his handsfrom Taleena's love-mounds to her smooth thighs so that the whip could wraparound her bobbling breasts, stinging them withits fiery kiss, even as he timed the tempo of his fierce upward lunges to therhythm of the whip cracks. And this time, in his mind's eye, Taleena, ravagedby pain and pleasure, did scream, at his every manly thrust. So intense washis desire, so swept away was he by his passion, that when Byrria's cock-pleasuringconvulsions had finally done their work and transported him to Elysian peaksof ecstasy, he was not sure that he had not called out Taleena's name…

* * *

Flavius took up his customary place on thebalcony, and looked down at the training area with mixed emotions. The Gaulwas the last to arrive in the yard, but he considered the fact that she wasattending the training at all to be a good omen; not many recruits wouldhave done so in her condition. Punishments such as she had endured were hardlyuncommon in a gladiator's life, but while the Gaul had certainly been guiltyof insubordinate behaviour, Flavius was concerned that Byrria had badly mistimedthe nature and extent of her flogging. Notwithstanding the weekly punishments,the two lanistae ofthe Ludus Flavianus wereunder strict instructions to put even more pressure on the candidates inthe third week, setting even higher physical and mental standards than before.

Flavius' watchful eyes followed Taleena asshe took her place in the line. As usual she was wearing the sparse combinationof loin-and-breast-cloths that drew attention to her luscious curves as muchas it concealed them. Once again he was intrigued by the way her poise lenther a semblance of dignity, even though the cruel stripes traversing herupper body told the story of her degradation at the whipping post morevividly than an Ovidian poem could have done. Flavius hadgranted Byrria some scope to take the headstrong Gaul to her limits in thisthird week, but warned her again not to overdo it – if the aggravatedrigours of the training, coupled with the aftermath of her whipping, shouldbreak Taleena's spirit, he would have to bury his plans to make her the second cestiata inhis squad.

As he watched the whip-ravaged blonde takeher place in the line, Flavius was confident that it would take more thana flogging to make this girl buckle under the strain. After all, her doggeddefiance had enabled her to survive her stint on the bench of Balbinus'galley, and to frustrate his machinations tosubvert her will. But before Flavius was to have a chance to observe howthe proud Gaul would respond to the rigours of the day's drill, there wasyet another punishment to be carried out…

* * *

As soon as she entered the courtyard, Taleena sensed that something unusualwas brewing. It was not only Flavius' presence on the balcony, or the absenceof the poor, doomed Selia, but there was something else, something vague butsinister, that produced an almost palpable tension in the air.

Both recruits and fighters had lined up in front of the building, and theguards and the archers on the roofs seemed to be on the alert. After two weeksof balmy spring weather the clouds in the gray sky overhead seemed heavy withgloom, as if they had absorbed all of the tears in the Roman world, and werepreparing to shed them on the Ludus Flavianus. The cool April breezethat swept through the yard carried the bitter bite of Boreas, the north wind,who seemed to have risen with the dawn in a wrathful temper.

Taleena was aware of the glances of her fellow-trainees who seemed to beappraising her condition as she hurriedly approached her comrades. As she nearedher place in line alongside Arminius, she noticed to her surprise that therewere not one, but two openings in the ranks of the recruits. Hamilkar Barkas,the tall Phoenician, stood to her left, next to the other open space, and whilea small part of her attention was given over to determining which member ofthe squad was missing, she was more concerned with the familiar crosspieceswhich were positioned in front of each trainee and promised another onerousrun.

Particularly with the peculiar qualities ofthe beam that awaited the missing candidate. The ends of that ghastly beamwere propped up on stones, in order to keep its dreadful adornment off ofthe uneven ground. For the entire length of the wooden beam had been wreathedin finger-thick, thorn-bearing withes, which rendered the cruel cross-piecean even more oppressive load for the poor fellow who would have to carryit.

"How nice of you to join us, at last," Byrriawelcomed the troubled Avernian in a voice drenched in sarcasm. After impatientlywaiting for Taleena to take her place, Byrria circled her, her eyes flashingwith sinister intent. "We are all anxious to begin with the executionof today's punishment. It shall be a lesson to those who think they can ignoremy orders!" she sneered, casting Taleena a meaningful glance. "Whileyou apparently have chosen to forget it, I remember giving an order thatyour back was not to be treated after your flogging !"

"No! You can't!" Taleena cried out despairingly. She felt heremotions rapidly spinning out of control as the identity of the bearer of thedreadful cross-piece became clear.

"But I can, Gaul! And I will." Byrria snapped back. "You twoshould have considered the risk before flouting my orders. Don't waste yourbreath on denials, because your fine friend has already confessed. And thefool has even insisted on taking the full responsibility for this breach ofduty, despite your obvious consent." She paused a moment, displaying herusual flair for the dramatic, before shouting, "Bring her forward!" inthe direction of the staff building.

Standing at attention like the rest of the lined-up fighters, Taleena heardshuffling steps behind her back, coming from the direction of the staff building.Turning her head furtively to the left, she spotted a pair of guards jerkingBreaca roughly from side to side as they marched her along. The proud Celticwarrioress did her best to march between her captors with a semblance of dignity,but even so they handled her rudely before finally sending her sprawling inthe dirt in front of the thorn-bristling crosspiece.

Breaca had been stripped all but naked byher captors, and wore only a meagre loin-cloth which consisted of no morethan a tiny triangle of fabric at the front, and a mere thong parting herbuttocks, joined around her loins by a simple string. Her wrists had beentied behind her back, her elbows cinched tightly together by another lengthof rope, and when the guards threw her forward into the sand, her face hitthe dirt. Deprived of the use of her hands, Breaca struggled awkwardly toher knees and turned her head, and for an instant her green eyes met Taleena's,but there was no reproach in them, only wild defiance

Still, Taleena was consumed by feelings of guilt as she watched the mistreatmentof her brave companion. She berated herself for not having sent Breaca awaywhen the good-hearted Celt had offered to help her. But the pain from her flogginghad been so dreadful that she had not had the heart or the will to turn heraway. And who would have believed that such a harmless act of mercy could haveled to a public humiliation such as the one to which Breaca was now being subjected.Who, for that matter, would have dreamed that Byrria could ever have learnedof their mutual transgression? As Taleena looked at the grotesque lattice-workof old whip-scars that criss-crossed Breaca's bare back, the mere thought thatthat fair skin might be ripped anew by the whip almost turned her stomach.

"All of you witnessed the Gaul's punishment two days ago," Byrriawent on, now addressing the entire audience, but pointing at Taleena who wastrembling with considerable trepidation. "All of you heard me say thather wounds were not to be treated! But obviously there are some here who havedecided to challenge my authority!"

Byrria's breasts rose and fell as her dark eyes glared intently at the recruits.She gave Taleena a withering glance before looking coldly down at the prostrategladiatrix at her feet. "Ignorance of the rules is one thing, but deliberateinterference with a punishment ordained by those whom Flavius Autronius hasendowed with authority is inexcusable! She glanced toward Calixtus, who wasstanding to one size looking down at his fallen fighter with a pained expression.For being chief-instructor it was his responsibility to announce her sentence.

"For attempting to interfere with an ordained punishment, the offendershall be put on display for the duration of one training day," the barrel-chested lanista boomedauthoritatively, but Taleena thought that she detected a tremor of uncertaintyin his voice. For as best she could remember Byrria had only proscribed treatmentat the infirmary. But she had been so ravaged with pain at the time of Byrria'sruling that she could not be sure, even now, of exactly what Byrria had said.

"You heard the chief-instructor! Put the Briton on display!" thewild-eyed lanista ordered as she turned toward the guards who had thrownBreaca to the ground. Byrria placed her feet squarely in front of Taleena andglared at her as she continued. "Her punishment will serve as a lessonto any others who might dare to defy the will of Flavius Autronius!"

Taleena met Byrria's stony gaze with growing outrage, but she recognizedthat her nemesis had been clever in suggesting that Breaca's infraction hadbeen an offence against Flavius himself, rather than merely a violation ofher own heartless dictum. What, she wondered, did it mean to be put "ondisplay"? And how could Byrria have gotten wind of the forbidden medicaltreatment at all? Had she seen Breaca leaving her cell? Or had someone betrayedthem? Taleena's mind was filled with unresolved questions, but the second stageof Breaca's ordeal had seized her attention before the answers were forthcoming.

"On your feet!" one of the guard barked at the prostrate gladiatrix,and when he spoke, Taleena recognized the high voice, and the scales fell fromher eyes. Rutilius! Taleena remembered with a shudder how Breaca had upbraidedthe young bully when she had interrupted his assault on Taleena. Neither womanhad dreamed that the craven pervert would have dared to expose himself to thereproach of having loitered in the recruits' quarters, but somehow the disgustingyouth had found a way to accuse them without attaching blame to himself. Andnow the despicable guard would have the opportunity to make the woman who haddisparaged him pay dearly for her insults!

"Pick up the beam!" Rutilius ordered the near-naked Celt, afterhaving used his sword to cut her bonds, and the sadistic glee in his eyes bodedill for the ginger-haired delinquent. During the previous punishments, includingTaleena's, Rutilius had been a mere henchman, while the two lanistae hadcarried out the floggings; but today he seemed to have been charged with theexecution of Breaca's castigation himself, and he was clearly excited by theprospect. Enjoying his moment on center stage to the fullest, the pock-facedyouth licked his lips in anticipation of his moment of triumph.

Breaca glared contemptuously at the surly young guard, but when he drovethe hob-nailed sole of his leather caliga into her upper thigh to urgeher on, she grimaced in pain and pulled herself up on her hands and knees beforerising slowly to her feet. She took a deep breath and bent down to seize thethorn-bristling cross-piece by the nails projecting from its ends. Straighteningher legs, the bare-breasted Briton lifted the beam off the ground, holdingit at the level of her loins, striving to keep the fiendish thorns away fromher well-toned thighs. Then she jerked up the log and lunged forward, thusheaving her dreadful load over her head like a weightlifter, before bringingher bare feet together to improve her balance.

Following her friend's efforts out of the corner of her eye, Taleena wasquite impressed by the manner in which the brave Celt had managed to pick upher load without being cut by the thorns, but she was also well aware thatBreaca's momentary success had left Rutilius highly unsatisfied.

As Breaca struggled to hold the thorn-beam aloft, the muscles in her limbsstraining under her burden, and Taleena noticed a pattern of red blotches thatmarred the pale perfection of her pink-crested mounds. Rutilius – orperhaps both guards – had clearly taken indecent liberties with theirfull-breasted prisoner in the staff building before dragging her into publicview. Shuddering with disgust Taleena could only take comfort in the fact thatByrria was not armed with her dreadful whip. But then she noticed that Rutiliuswas carrying an ominous thorn-bearing pole about the length and girth of aman's arm…

Rutilius's shifty eyes lingered on Breaca's nudity for a few moments, obviouslyenjoying subjugating the ginger-haired Celt in such degrading fashion. Butthen, with a business-like "Let's go!" Rutilius prodded the delinquentforward, toward the center of the arena, and a gasp from the lined-up onlookersannounced the entry of the near-naked Celt into their field of vision.

The male recruits gazed at the gladiatrix' tempting figure, noticing thescars on her supple back, and an awed gasp revealed what most of them thoughtabout this sacrilege to beauty. Breaca's raised arms gave her muscles an attractivedefinition, while her slim waist almost belied her full, gently curving hips,which broadened into a pair of sensuously-contoured, milky-white buttocks whichjiggled most salaciously with each trudging step.

There had been some fidgeting in the ranks of the fighters when Calixtushad announced Breaca's prospective ordeal, and out of the corner of her eyeTaleena had noticed that Breaca's inscrutable twin, Verica, had been aboutto vent her anger at the unjust punishment of her blood-sister. But Tyra, thetall Nubian net-fighter who stood alongside her, had placed a firm hand onher Celtic comrade's shoulder to prevent her from taking some ill-consideredaction. Neither Taleena nor any of the others knew much about the other Celtictwin, who steadfastly avoided the company of everyone save for her sister.In fact none of them had ever hear Verica utter so much as a single word. Butit was clear that if Tyra had not intervened, the ever-silent Verica wouldsurely have thrown herself at the guards in an attempt to protect her sisterfrom their cruelties. For had it not been Breaca's bold defense of this samesister that had resulted in the fifty-stroke-flogging that had left her backscarred for life?

His lecherous eyes fixed on Breaca's thong-split buttocks, a leering Rutiliusgave Breaca another unnecessary prod in the back. The Celtic beauty turnedher head and gave the ill-featured guard a look that bespoke the pain and outragein her soul. But Rutilius returned her glare with a contemptuous grin and jabbedher in the back even more rudely. Breaca stumbled forward under the fierceimpact until the wavering weight of the crossbeam caused her to crumple underthe heavy load.

Rutilius' craven attack from the rear brought another gasp of protest fromthe recruits and an angry murmur from the fighters, while Taleena turned herhead away to avoid the sight of her comrade's fall. Nevertheless, shecould not help but hear the ear-piercing scream which had been torn from Breaca'spretty mouth, and the muffled moan from Verica who stood only a few paces toher left.

Biting her lip fearfully, Taleena forced herself to look upon the friendwho had risked all to help her. Breaca was kneeling on the ground with herback to the audience. Her reflexive reaction to her fall had caused her tolower her hands to chest-level in order to bring the unwieldy beam under control.But no one in the audience could fail to wonder what havoc the lowering ofthe thorn-beam had wrought on her bare breasts.

"Back on your feet, bitch!" Rutilius snapped ruthlessly at thewounded gladiatrix, once more earning Taleena's withering contempt.

Breaca groaned in misery as she heaved the thorny cross-piece up again, wincingas the strenuous motion lifted her tortured breasts higher upon her chest.Her nipples, chilled to taut raspberries by the crisp morning air, jiggledenticingly as she struggled back to her feet. Rutilius continued to prod herwith the thorn-club, more teasingly than forcefully, until the small processionreached the very center of the arena. "That's better. Now that you'reout here where everyone can see you," he muttered, "you can get backon your knees, bitch," Rutilius smirked, brandishing his menacing thorn-clubas if he were an animal trainer at the Circus Maximus.

The place of Breaca's shameful exhibition was some twenty yards away fromthe lined of onlookers and at right angles to them, so that they were treatedto the sight of the kneeling, near-naked body of the ginger-haired Celt inmagnificent profile. Taleena shivered empathetically at the sight of her courageouscomrade. Though she could not be sure from such a distance, she was almostcertain that she could make out tiny droplets of blood dripping from Breaca'sbare breasts as she held her arms bravely aloft, balancing her cruel burdenover her head.

XXII.

F rom his vantage point up on the balcony, Flaviushad a most enviable position for viewing the dreadful discipline being visitedupon the Celtic beauty. The athletic young redhead knelt facing him, her voluptuousbody held ramrod straight, her watery green eyes staring indifferently in hisdirection, her lovely face a graven image of defiance as she fought valiantlyto stave off disaster. Blood oozed from the wounds where the thorns had spearedthe proffered gentleness of her breasts. The thin red rivulets contrasted cruellywith the paleness of her flesh, as they faithfully followed the well-tonedcontours of her nude torso.

While hardly insusceptible to the dark erotic quality of the scene beforehim, Flavius' anger at the bloody sight in the courtyard exceeded his arousal.This was punishment for the sake of punishment, even though Byrria had triedto give it the aegis of his authority. He was not averse to meting out discipline,even harsh discipline, as his speech before the cross had made clear. But hecould not condone spiteful punishments, particularly if they threatened tomar the beauty of his hand-picked female fighters. Young women with the heartand strength and beauty to win plaudits in the arena were not easy to find.And abusing their valuable bodies purely out of spite or malice was as foolishas throwing sesterces into the Roman Sea. He had warned Rutilius about exceedinghis authority once before, and he intended to let him know in no uncertainterms that merchandise as fine as Breaca was not to be damaged so heedlessly.Another such stunt and he would send the presumptuous young guard packing!

,

The scene that had just happened down in the yard had not been the firsttime that the lad had made a bad impression, though. Flavius had never likedthe voyeuristic pleasure with which Sejanus' protégé had constantlyogled the female trainees. There was nothing wrong, of course, with eyeinga scantily-clad woman with the virile interest one would expect in any guy'sguy. But to give short shrift to one's duties in order to skulk around andspy on the young beauties from secret hiding places – this was disgraceful. Andthere was a cowardice and falseness about the lad's attitude which Flaviusfound difficult to stomach.

Calixtus had told him a graphic tale about how he had caught Rutilius preyingon the Baetican girl after her first flogging. A grim smile played around Flavius'mouth when he recalled the scene Calixtus had depicted so colourfully, usinghis entire arsenal of army invectives – how he had grabbed the youngman by the groin, through the folds of his tunic, giving the squeaking, chokingyouth a piece of his mind. Flavius could well imagine the grim ex-centurionshouting the young man down like a callow army recruit; but Calixtus' littleshow, as impressive as it might have been on the young man's testicles, hadapparently not been deterrent enough to keep the lad away from the girl-recruits'quarters.

Flavius cursed under his breath, regretting the day that he had taken Rutiliusinto his employ. He had only done so to win favour with Sejanus, who numberedRutilius' father among his more important clients. And although the futurePraetorian Prefect didn't care about the lad's progress anymore, it might bea good thing to show that the old quid pro quo routine was still observed onFlavius' side.

Flavius had little confidence in the unlikely story which Rutilius had cookedup. The youth had come before him claiming that he had happened to see Breacaleaving the infirmary and heading stealthily for the cells, and that he hadfollowed her there to see what she was up to. It was far more likely, thoughtFlavius that the voyeuristic youth had secreted himself somewhere in the cell-blockso that he could spy on the naked Gaul as she suffered the aftermath of herflogging.

Flavius continued to stare intently at the bloodied breasts of the Celticbeauty down in the center of the arena, while a fitting form of retributionbegan to form in Flavius' mind, a way in which the protégé ofhis powerful friend would come to regret his carelessness. Yes, the malevolentboy-guard would pay for damaging his property…

Notwithstanding Rutilius' unconvincing story of how he had come to witnessthe event, there seemed but little doubt but that the Celt had indeed treatedthe Avernian's back, in spite of Byrria's pronouncement. It was a separatequestion, of course, whether Byrria's admonition had been well-considered,but regardless an order was an order, and it had only taken Flavius a momentto convince himself that Breaca's insubordination did indeed warrant some formof punishment. In fact, he had noticed before that she had become a littletoo smug after her recent successes in the ring, and had taken little libertiesto which she was not entitled. It was time to take her down a peg or two. Sinceit was paramount that discipline be maintained, he had quickly agreed withByrria's demand that Breaca be punished for her rather insignificant offence.

But it was only after their passionate bout of love-making on the priorevening that Flavius, in a moment of weakness, had consented to Byrria's requestto consider subjecting Breaca to the terrible ordeal which now confronted her.When he had met with his lanistae at dawn to render his final decision,Calixtus had pointed out that no woman at the Ludus Flavianus had everbeen subjected to the torment in question. But a bristling Byrria had contemptuouslydismissed that argument out of hand. Were not, she had argued, the women tocompete with the men in every respect, just as they would one day have to doin the ring?

In the end Flavius had consented somewhat reluctantly. But whether the punishmentwas justified or not, he was also well aware that the other fighters were growingmore and more restive at Byrria's cruelty. If he didn't want to run the riskof a mutiny, he would have to convince his vindictive Thracian tigress to forswearthe enmities she harboured for his other female squad-members. And if she werestill not willing to listen to reason… Flavius smiled grimly to himselfas he thought how ironic it would be if the day were to come when Byrria'sown punitive methods would be used against her…

* * *

Down in the yard, the preliminaries for putting Breaca on display had beencompleted, and Taleena, like the rest of the spectators, could now see thefull extent of the Celt's misery.

Flavius had dubbed this dreadful punishment the "Thorns of Atlas" longago, in reference to the unfaithful Titan who had been condemned to supportthe vault of heaven on his shoulders. Having seen the deterrent effect thisdegrading form of display had on miscreants and spectators alike during hisown days at a gladiatorial school, he had decided to incorporate this mostrigorous form of punishment into the disciplinary practices of the LudusFlavianus.

The slender thorn-bristling pole which Rutiliushad used as a prod had been placed in the hollows of the delinquent's knees,and even if the weight of the wood was not enough to cause the thorns topierce her taut skin, the sharp spines would prevent the kneeling woman fromrelaxing back on her haunches, thus forcing her knees to bear her entireweight as well as the weight of the beam. Breaca's wrists had been tied tothe outer ends of the cross-piece, and the broken shafts of four spears hadbeen rammed into the ground such that their sharp heads were only a hand'swidth from her bare midriff – two targeting her kidneys from behind,two aiming from the same distance at either side of her deep-etched navel.

Taleena had watched the preparations in stomach-wrenchingdismay, doubting that her Celtic comrade could stand an entire day of thishideous torture. For a woman, Breaca had unquestionable strength in her armsand shoulders, but just as Hercules had soon grown tired of filling in forAtlas, Breaca would not be able to hold the beam overhead for too long. Fromher own experience on the galley bench, Taleena knew that Breaca's muscleswould first weaken, then cramp, and then slowly melt away as the flickeringflames of agony licked at their strength. It was only a matter of time untilshe would have to lower the thorny beam to her shoulders for the first time – forthe first of many times – until she could no longer hold it up at all.The sharp spearheads at her midsection would prevent her from bending forwardor shifting her weight much in any direction. And thus she would be forcedto kneel upright and stiff for endless hours, poising her dreadful load onher tortured shoulders until her sentence would be completed.

Taleena had been so transfixed by the sight of Breaca's awful plight thatshe didn't realize that the Thracian had sidled up to her until Byrria whisperedto her sibilantly. "If I had had my way, you'd be kneeling out there alongsideyour obstinate friend!" The raven-haired lanista gave Taleena amenacing smile and slid around behind her and proceeded to draw a sharp fingernaildown the length of Taleena's back, across the many still-fresh striations,while Taleena gritted her teeth and turned her face away to hide her pain.

"So how does it feel, Gaul," Byrria hissed, "to watch yourfriend suffer, knowing that you are the cause of her misery?" The ThracianTigress grabbed a handful of Taleena's blonde hair, forcing her to look ather thorn-ravaged friend. "Look at her, Gaul! Do you see how her lovelybody trembles under the strain? And this is only the beginning; the beginningof a day that she will think will have no end. Watch her, Gaul, watch her closely.For soon you will have need of her courage!"

* * *

When the finishing toucheshad been put to Breaca's positioning, an awed silence fell over the yard, forevery person in the yard remembered Calixtus' words that the Celt was to beleft on display for the duration of an entire training day. All eyes were rivetedon the nearly-naked miscreant who knelt so forlornly in the middle of the yard.An imaginative onlooker might well have detected a grotesque resemblance betweenBreaca's well-sculpted body and the statue of a female Atlas.

But the two lanistae proceeded immediately with the daily routine,leaving the other recruits little time to concern themselves with Breaca'sfate. At the command of Calixtus, the trainees were ordered to hoist the beamswhich had been laid out in front of them, while the senior fighters were sentto the far side of the arena to resume their daily sword practice. As Taleenatried to shoulder her beam, she was forced to admire the strength and skillwhich Breaca had shown in lifting her cross-piece, since it was only with somedifficulty that she managed to slide her own slender body under the crossbeamthat had been designated as hers. .

She started down the track, as did her comrades, but none of them had proceededmuch further than a hundred yards, when Calixtus abruptly signalled for themto stop in front of the bath house. The recruits fell to their knees as directed,facing a brisk morning breeze, and Taleena and the others tried to guess atthe reason for this unexpected interruption.

And then, as a sudden gust of wind caused her to shiver with cold and apprehension,Taleena understood. A number of the compound's attendants were making theirway out of the bathhouse – each of them carrying two wooden pails filledwith water.

Taleena had long wondered why heavy nails had been driven into each end ofthe beams that she and the other recruits carried. But now the purpose of thenails became starkly, dreadfully clear. The attendants slipped the rope handlesof the water pails over the nails by which the recruits held the beams, thusadding considerable weight to each candidate's burden.

Byrria looked down at the crouching blonde whose shoulders were bent lowunder her yoke, and with a malicious glint in her eyes she studied the weltswhich traversed the smooth, well-toned planes of Taleena's back as if theywere a scarlet-lettered dedication which she had etched in the taut parchmentof the blonde's fair skin.

"The Celt has done a fine job tending to your back, Gaul," thedark-eyed instructress began in a voice dripping with scorn. "You musttake care that you do not thwart all of her labours." Byrria reached downto undo the ribbon that held the strophium in place aroundTaleena's chest. "We wouldn't want this cloth to chafe your welts, wouldwe?"

Taleena flinched at the Thracian's words, finding her false compassion evenmore repellent than her customary sneer. Byrria had stated that she would makeher suffer, but that she was about to thwart even this tiny mitigation of herordeal was a particularly refined cruelty. The few training hours Taleena hadspent without breast-support had proved that its absence would add greatlyto the rigours of the day, and the fear of that eventuality had induced herto wear the breast-cloth despite the discomfort it caused her back.

With a sudden jerk, Byrria ripped away the flimsy garment, and Taleena bither lip as she felt a cool gust of wind against her body, washing over herpendulous breasts and teasing the half-turgid nipples which were already stiffeningin the morning air.

"Get up!" Byrria snapped at the half-nakedrecruit, and Taleena attempted to straighten her back. She had been dreadingthe moment that she would have to rise, and she had judged correctly thatthe weight of the water that she was bound to carry was nearly half of herown weight. She gasped from the strain, but try though she might, she couldnot rise; the water-weighted pails pinned her to the ground as securely asmillstones.

"Stand her up !" Byrria ordered the two attendants who had broughtthe pails, "we can't wait all day until our Gallic princess deigns torise," and with their aid Taleena finally managed to struggle to her feet.When they left her to bear the weight herself, her knees almost buckled underthe oppressive weight of her burden, and she had to widen her stance twiceto keep her balance. But when the swaying pails at either end of the yoke hadsteadied, she stood, the delicate wings of her nostrils flaring as she pantedfor breath.

Byrria smiled as she watched the blonde recruit struggle to stand upright,and her malevolent gaze came to rest on Taleena's heaving breasts. Her yoke-bearingposture lifted the arrogant mounds into even bolder prominence, and the nippleswhich protruded pertly from crinkled aureoles seemed to shiver in the coolbreeze.

"So this is the one who was going to make me rue the day I 'killed'that useless Spaniard!" the Thracian sneered in a mocking voice. "Well,first of all it's not my fault that the weakling died – you and yourtrouble-making Celtic friend survived far worse floggings, did you not? Youare the one, Gaul, who will come to rue the day you dared to confront me!"

Byrria smiled maliciously, enjoying the look of dismay in Taleena's blueeyes as they followed her right hand as it reached for the crop that hung fromher belt. "Do you remember my promise that one day you'd want to barteryour fate for that of the Spaniard?" The crop had come free now, and Byrriaplaced its biting tip against Taleena's cheek. "Well, today will be thatday! Before the day is done, Gaul, you'll be begging me to put an end to yourmisery!"

"Never!" The flaxen-haired Avernian spat out defiantly, more inan effort to reassure herself than to contradict the spiteful lanista.Taleena felt her eyes filling with tears at the helplessness of her situation.,but strove not to give the Thracian Fury the satisfaction of seeing her weakness.She closed her eyes to blink back her tears, and when she opened them againshe managed to stand up to the Thracian's steady gaze.

"Oh yes I shall," Byrria continued, amused by Taleena's outburst. "Don'tmisunderstand, Gaul – I quite enjoy your persistence! I find it muchmore … amusing if you don't give in too quickly." She let the tipof the stiff leather crop slide across Taleena's cheek, down her elegant neckand then along the corded, concave hollow of the yoke-bearer's armpit, pressingagainst the tender edge of the welt which was imprinted there. "I thinkI may even spare your back today," she mused with a wicked smile as shebrought the flat-tipped end of the crop to the side of Taleena's chest. "Afterall there are two sides to every coin!"

Taleena grimaced in pain and set her teeth against her underlip while Byrriatraced the lofty contours of her slightly flattened breasts with her crop,poking the soft flesh until the springy instrument began to bow slightly whenit met with resilient resistance.

Taleena turned her head as much as her burden allowed, to escape the Thracian'sscornful glance, only to see Rutilius hovering over the kneeling Breaca nearthe centre of the yard. Taleena saw his lips move and had little doubt thathe was taunting the defenceless sufferer as she struggled with her thorny load.But as if the young bully had sensed Taleena's eyes on him, he raised his headand looked in her direction, and an evil smile lit his pock-marked face ashe saw the Avernian recruit in the claws of the Thracian tigress.

"Let's go!" Calixtus shouted to hiscrew of water-bearers and the enforced aquarii struggledto fall into formation. Taleena breathed a sigh of relief that the head lanista's business-likemanner had spared her, for the moment, from the Thracian. But as glad asshe was to escape Byrria's vile caresses, her heart sank when Calixtus announcedthe goal for the day. "Ten laps!" the bald ex-centurion barkedat the recruits. "Complete them as quickly as you can, but mark thesewords well: Anyone who spills more than half of the contents of his pailsis ripe for a demerit!"

"What are you waiting for, Gaul?" Byrria fumed, as she snappedthe tip of the crop against the side of Taleena's breast. "You heard Calixtus!Ten laps!"

Ten laps! Taleena thought with dismay as shefought off the sting of the crop. A single lap bearing such a back-breakingload would be a daunting task, even if she were in peak condition. With herwhip-torn back, the chances of fulfilling the issued quota seemed no greaterthan the chance of frogs raining from the sky.

The bare-breasted recruit took a tentative step forward, torn between theurge to walk quickly as Calixtus had ordered, and the need to refrain fromspilling any water. Her dreadful burden weighed so heavily on her slender framethat she could barely lift her feet, which, as always, were hobbled by theever-present ankle-weights. With each laborious step she felt the edges ofthe finely-ground cinders dig into the soles of her bare feet, but as muchas she did her best to quicken her pace, it was next to impossible.

As she trudged slowly along, labouring under her immense load, Taleena wasreminded of the horrific story Breaca had told her about her own Calvary. Howshe had been burdened with a heavy cross-piece, so that her arms and shoulderswere lifted high, leaving the planes and valleys of her smooth back utterlydefenceless while the wild-eyed, whip-wielding Thracian had marched her aroundthe track. At least, thought Taleena, it didn't appear that she would be floggedat every step as Breaca had been. But this small blessing was a frail reedto lean on, since her back had already been shredded by the lash. And the pail-weighted patibulum pressedso relentlessly down on her shoulders that it was only a question of time untilit would wear her down.

* * *

It didn't take the six men behind Taleena very long to pass the strugglingblonde, since they had picked up a slow jog at the cost of spilling some water.Arminius was the first to pass her, followed by Bovarius and the Numidians.As she watched the small party of men increase their lead over her, Taleenabecame fully aware of how inferior she was to the men in regard to physicalstrength. She had always been conscious of that fact but never had her weaknessseemed more blatantly apparent than today.

A pang of compassion surged through her, as thoughts of Selia filled hermind. She was beginning, now, to understand the despair that had haunted theIberian's pretty face. For Selia had surely known that she was by far the weakest,and that she would always be first in line for the cruel discipline meted outto those the Fates had doomed to fail. When Selia had been alive, Taleena hadalways been able to feel superior to at least one of her comrades. But nowthat the poor sad-eyed girl had crossed the dark river, she, Taleena, was theweakest link in the chain of fighting slaves at the Ludus Flavianus.

The clouds had darkened even more, and a fine drizzle had set in, coatingher body with a fine sheen of moisture that, if nothing else, had a coolingeffect on her feverish system. Her lungs were burning with her panting efforts,her breasts aching, and her legs screamed silently for rest. She had neverrealized before how vital the gluteal muscles were for walking, but today shefelt Byrria's final flesh-searing butt-slash with her every step.

The dilatory pace of her march caused the pails to sway and jerk at the beam,and when Taleena had finished her first lap, the beam had slid alarmingly downfrom its original position. The welts on her back throbbed intensely wherethe splintered wood rubbed against her sore skin, stretching the weals whichwere the livid legacy of the Thracian's lash.

Just then Taleena noticed that she had come again around the turn closestto the guardhouse, and this time she spotted Rutilius waiting for her alongsidethe track. 'Oh no!' she prayed fervently. 'Dear gods, if I have to fall, pleasedon't let me fall down in front of this bastard!' But once more her pleas wereto fall on deaf ears. Taleena howled in outrage as she heaved the beam backupon her aching shoulders, and almost overbalanced when her newly centred loadforced her to bend forward. The pails were swaying dangerously as she straightenedup again, and some water spilled over the rims as she struggled to keep herfooting. But her left foot came down in a little hollow in the track, and shefelt her ankle turn in the depression. Taleena cried out in pain and pitchedforward, falling to her knees.

"You'd better watch your step, Gaul," Rutilius sneered with feigned concern.His beady eyes probed the luscious front of Taleena's body hungrily as thekneeling blonde fought to regain possession of her teetering burden.

"What a pretty little pack animal you are!" Rutilius scoffed. "Sopretty, and yet too weak to carry a mere pair of pails! Maybe a few strokesof the whip would help you pick up the pace!" The young guard's eyes lingeredon the crimson pattern on Taleena's back, and it seemed to her that he wasreliving the strokes that had left her so utterly degraded. Byrria's whip hadstripped her of her strength if not her pride, but how humiliating it was toendure the scorn of this despicable youth…

"Nice pair of jugs you've got there," Rutilius continued his spitefulmockery, pretending to refer to the buckets that swayed gently beneath hershoulder-yoke. "I like the way they jiggle when you move." Smilinglewdly at his obscene jibe he crossed his arms over his chest imperiously. "Ican hardly wait to get my hands back on them," Rutilius taunted the kneelingrecruit as his eyes roamed maraudingly over her bare breasts. The positionof the yoke, which had again slid halfway down her shoulders, caused her toarch her back in a most provocative manner, and the light drizzle had coveredTaleena's creamy skin with a moist sheen which gave her statuesque torso amost enticing gloss. Rutilius vividly remembered the touch and taste of thosepink-crested mounds, so sublimely soft and yet so youthfully firm, and thesight of the pouting nipples that he had teased to such unwilling erectnessdrew a grunt of pleasure from his lips.

Taleena had to grit her teeth to keep from swinging the beam at Rutilius.She thought of her fervent vow to kill the filthy bastard for what he had doneto her – a vow which seemed ludicrous given her present predicament.To find herself helplessly exposed to the jackal's cruel mockery made her lividwith rage, but a small fraction of her consciousness kept in mind Breaca'sadvice not to let anger or hatred take the place of reason. And Taleena knewthat she was well advised not to fall for Rutilius' provocations, since itwould only play into his hands if she tried to attack him.

"You'll need to turn to Byrria for help then if you try to take me on," shemuttered contemptuously, but was cut short by the need to re-balance the pail-weightedcross-piece when it began to slip to one side. "Were it not for her, boy,you'd rather be wetting your loin-cloth than coming the strong man!" shespat out between gasps as her angry blueeyes fired daggers at the leering youth .

Rutilius flushed angrily at this insultand took a half step forward, clenching his fist as if intent on attackingthe kneeling recruit, when he noticed that Flavius Autronius wasglaring at him sternly from the balcony. The young guard stopped in his tracksand lowered his hand while Taleena gave silent thanks to whichever god hadturned Flavius' eyes toward her at that moment.

"I thought the whip had cured you of your attitude, galley whore," hecursed under his breath. "But I'll see to it that Byrria teaches you anotherlesson at the post at the end of this week." His cruel smile broadenedas he whispered salaciously, "You know, I can still hear you whimperingunder the lash. But don't you worry, I'll be right there to comfort you whenthe Thracian is through with you. And this time, whore, no big-mouthed Celticbitch is going to stop me!"

Taleena kept glaring at the spiteful guard, but her anger seemed to makeher burden somehow lighter as she shouldered it into place. She dragged herreluctant right leg forward across the gritty cinder, and then pushed withall her might, the effort contorting her beautiful face. She groaned miserably,urging the exhausted muscles in her slender legs to straighten up.

"There will be another time, Blondie," Rutilius hissed as he watchedthe teetering beam, and laughed crudely at the way Taleena's exposed breastsquivered from the strain. "The red-head is getting hers today, and itwon't be long until it's your turn," he spat out before turning and stalkingoff, the very pock-marks on his face contorted with rage about the lost opportunity.

It took every ounce of Taleena's strength and every fibre of muscle in herstraining back, arms, legs and shoulders to start anew, but finally she wason the move again, slowly putting further distance between herself and themalevolent boy-guard. She slowly approached the fighters' training area, andwhile Tyra and even the sinister-looking Hamilkar seemed to be sympatheticto the pitiful struggles of the sorely-tried recruit, Verica shot Taleena afierce glance, as if blaming her for her sister's plight.

By the time Taleena managed to stagger past the finish line for the secondtime, her knees were wobbling uncontrollably, but once again she forced herbody to rebel against the looming loss of vigour. Even so, when she passedthe front of the balcony from which Flavius watched her helpless struggles,she was outstripped by the leading men – first by the giant Arminius,of course, then by the boorish Bovarius, whose ox-like build was well-suitedto a competition where physical strength was at a premium. The bitter senseof being outclassed so thoroughly led Taleena to the fateful attempt to lengthenher stride in order to keep pace.

But this only caused her weary legs to give out completely, and she crashedheavily to her knees. The crushing force of the cross-piece bent her forward,and she instinctively turned her face inward to keep from striking the rain-dampenedground face-first. Lying prone in the moist sand in a cruciform position, pinneddown by her cross-piece, she saw the left of the twin pails overturned on theground. She clawed for it desperately, hoping to right it, but could not. Shewatched its contents trickle away from her, carrying with them her waning hopesof finishing the run within the handicap.

As she lay there, feeling the pressure of the heavy yoke on the nape o herneck, one side of her face pressed into the damp ground, Taleena's eyes wereturned toward the centre of the arena, where Breaca knelt in abject misery.She saw her friend struggling under her own dreadful load, trying to keep thefiendish flesh-piercing thorns away from her shoulders, knowing that she wasfighting a hopeless battle.

Taleena was soon was passed by the other Germans and then the dark-skinnedNumidians, and with each passer-by her resignation edged closer to utter despair.She knew that she had already garnered today's demerit – so what wasthe point in struggling on? Byrria might taunt her and prod her and lash her,but eventually even the Thracian Fury would come to the realization that shesimply could take no more.

But then it struck her that this was what Byrria wanted her to do – shewanted her to quit, to give in to the brutal treatment, to concede defeat.That realization stirred Taleena as nothing else would have, and a strong waveof defiance rose up within her. She remembered Breaca's plea: 'Whatever Byrriamay do to you, promise me that you will not falter!' When she had said thosewords the Celt could not have known that she herself would soon suffer Byrria'swrath. Breaca had risked all to help her, and Taleena felt honour bound tolive up to her comrade's exhortations. For was not Breaca's task of bearingthe dreadful Thorns of Atlas, even more horrible and hopeless than her own?If she surrendered now, Breaca's selfless sacrifice would be stripped of allmeaning.