A Voice in the Wind by Francine Rivers Page B

he waited for the dizziness and nausea to pass before he opened his eyes.
    Turning his head, he tried to evaluate his position. He was in a small room built of thick logs. Sunlight streamed in through a small, high window, making him squint as pain shot through his head. He was stretched out and chained down to a large table. Even his sagum had been stripped from him. He moved sluggishly, testing his bonds as pain licked through his shoulders and back. Short, thick chains were attached to iron manacles around his wrists and ankles.
    Two men entered the room.
    Atretes rose slightly, jerking at his restraints. He uttered a short, foul curse, insulting them. They stood placidly, savoring their victory. One, dressed in magnificent armor and a scarlet cloak, held a bronzed helmet beneath his arm. Atretes recognized him as the high-ranking officer who had stood at the battle’s end. The other man wore a finely woven tunic and dark travel cloak, both bespeaking wealth.
    “Ah, so you are conscious,” Severus said, grinning down into the fierce blue eyes of the young warrior. “I am gratified to know you are alive and have some wits about you. My men would like to see you flogged and crucified, but I have other, more profitable plans for you.”
    Atretes did not understand Latin or Greek, but the officer’s insolent manner fanned his rebellious nature. He fought the restraints violently, uncaring of the pain it caused him.
    “Well, what do you think of him, Malcenas?”
    “He growls like a beast and stinks,” the merchant said.
    Severus laughed softly and straightened. “Take a good long look at this one, Malcenas. I think you’ll find him out of the ordinary and the price I have set on him more than fair.”
    Atretes’ rage grew as the merchant moved closer and began an avid perusal of him. When the man reached out to touch him, Atretes lunged, jerking hard against the chains. The explosion of pain in his head and shoulder only incensed him further. He spit on the man. “Foul Roman pig!” He swore and struggled.
    Malcenas grimaced and took a small cloth from his sleeve and dabbed his tunic delicately. “These Germans are no better than animals, and what a heathenish tongue he speaks.”
    Severus grabbed the young man by the hair, forcing his head back. “An animal, yes. But what an animal! He has the face of Apollo and the body of Mars.” The German jerked violently, trying to sink his teeth into his tormentor’s arm. Severus yanked his head back again, holding him tighter this time.
    “You know very well, Malcenas, that one look at this well-formed young barbarian, and the women of Rome will go mad for the games.” He looked at Malcenas’ flushed face, and his mouth tipped cynically. “And some men as well, I think, if I may judge by the look on your face.”
    Malcenas’ full lips tightened. He could not look away from the young warrior. He knew Germans to be fierce, but one look into this warrior’s blue eyes sent a shudder of fear through him. Even with him chained, Malcenas didn’t feel safe. It excited him. Ah, but money was money, and Severus was demanding a fortune for this captive. “He is very beautiful, Severus, but is he trainable?”
    “Trainable?” Severus laughed and let go of the warrior’s blond hair. “You should have seen this barbarian fight. He is a better gladiator now than any you have sent to the arena in the last ten years.“ His smile flattened out. ”He killed more than a dozen trained legionnaires in the first few minutes of battle. It took four seasoned soldiers to hold him down. They couldn’t pry that bloody framea from his hand. Not until I had him knocked out.“ He gave a sardonic laugh. ”I don’t think he’ll need much training. Just keep him chained until you’re ready to turn him loose in the arena.“
    Malcenas admired the straining muscles of the powerful young body. Oiled, he would look like a bronzed god. And that mane of long blond hair. Romans loved