Page 23 of Enslaved
This was strictly between Peter and herself. She intended to have it out with him, in private. But before she did, Diana needed time to sort out her own feelings and come to a decision. At the moment her emotions were in too much turmoil to make a rational decision that would affect the rest of her life.
The trouble was that the moment Peter read her letter, he would come. In her present mood she was likely to lose her temper completely and say things that could never be unsaid. She needed time alone, time to think, time to make her own decision without being influenced.
When they disembarked in Queen Square, Diana realized with dismay that in her great haste her luggage had been left behind. At dawn this morning she had struggled into one of her old-fashioned corsets and donned a most prim and nondescript beige dress with panniers before she approached the very proper Mr. Burke. Lord, she had never felt so unattractive in her life.
She tipped the Hardwicks’ carriage driver generously, because she was so grateful for the speedy getaway. His jaw almost dropped open. Diana bit her lips as she realized she had committed a social gaffe, but she noticed with cynicism that he did not refuse the money. She picked up Prudence’s luggage and carried it inside.
Her aunt was already in the kitchen giving orders for a restorative lunch. “In the meantime you can make me up a posset of madeira and eggs before I take my nap.”
Diana’s thoughts ran about like quicksilver. If Prudence took a nap, she wouldn’t be missed until lunch. An entire morning to wander on her own was more than Diana could resist. Once she had made her escape, she might even stay out all day. What the hell could Prudence do about it if she did?
Diana wanted to change from the beige dress with its hideous panniers, but if she followed Prudence upstairs she would lose precious time. In a flash Diana was out the door heading toward Sion Hill and Lansdown Road.
When she reached the heights and looked down through the trees at the perfect Georgian city, Diana was filled with a sense of freedom. The soft air was resonant with the sounds of water. She could hear ancient springs trickling down the hillsides as well as the rush of the River Avon as it tumbled over the weir at Pulteney Bridge.
She could see the spires of the medieval abbey, where King Edgar was crowned in the tenth century, and the magnificent curve of The Circus, which architect John Wood had built in the style of the Roman Colosseum.
Diana filled her lungs with the delicious fresh air and knew she had reached her decision. It was so simple, really. She and Peter were engaged, but the length of the engagement had not been discussed. If he would agree to a long engagement, say of a year, then she would let things stay as they were. If not, she would call it off immediately. She would come of age in a few months and have the say over her own money and inheritance. She wanted a year’s freedom before she submitted to a husband’s control. If Peter loved her, he would be willing to wait.
Now that she had made her decision, her cares dropped away like a heavy burden she had been carrying. Her heart was light again. It was a beautiful morning, she was in a magnificent and ancient city, and the best part was she had the entire day to explore its charms.
Diana began to make her way downhill, turning first left then right, where she found herself in a lane dotted with charming antique shops. The articles in the windows were so tempting, she couldn’t resist going inside to browse around.
Some things were so curious she couldn’t name them. There were dozens of antique brass taps, a painted bathtub with claw and ball feet, ancient stone garden seats, old clocks, spinets, and mandolins. She stopped to admire a medieval tapestry, its colors faded, but still subtly beautiful. Diana was thrilled to her very core to be able to actually see something that had survived since the Middle Ages.
She moved on, then stopped in her tracks as she came upon a display of Roman artifacts.Surely these can’t be authentic?she thought, her heart beating faster. There was a bronze helmet with decorated side pieces, a shield, swords in scabbards, and iron daggers.These could be from the first century!she thought. As she ran her fingertips over the Roman helmet, she imagined it almost burned her. She drew in her breath in wonder that these things had survived for seventeen centuries. “This helmet belonged to a Roman centurion,” she murmured in awe.
Diana glanced about the shop, but could not see the proprietor anywhere. On a sudden impulse she removed her hat and decided to try on the helmet. She had momentarily forgotten she was wearing a wig. With a muttered oath she tucked up the powdered curls beneath the side pieces that protected the cheeks.
The bronze helmet was unbelievably heavy and when she tried to remove it she discovered that it was somehow wedged upon her head. She heard a loud drumming in her ears. She felt faint and dizzy and her vision became blurred. Then suddenly she went cold. She felt as if cool air were rushing past her. It gave her the strange sensation that she was moving through space at high speed while standing in one place.
The volume of the noise in her head increased until she felt her eardrums would burst. Her hands went up to cover them, but she felt only the huge bronze helmet making her head ache intolerably. Then she felt herself falling, not just to the floor, but beyond.
Chapter 7
Diana heard men shouting and somehow she was outdoors with the sun beating down upon her face, blinding her to everything. She tried to stumble to her feet, but while she was still on her knees, she saw two huge horses pulling some sort of cart bearing down upon her. Instinctively she fell to the ground to roll away from their hooves. When the horses saw her in their path they reared up screaming and snorting and the wagon they pulled sounded like thunder as it rolled within inches of her head. She heard someone scream, then realized it was herself.
A man’s voice was shouting and cursing at her at the top of his lungs. She was vaguely aware of other horses and men gathering about, but her attention was held by the man doing all the shouting. As she stared at him, she thought he bore a resemblance to the Earl of Bath. He had the same black hair and dark eyes, the same hawklike hook to his nose, but a scar ran from his temple to his cheekbone, giving him a saturnine look. His shoulders were unbelievably broad, his chest heavily muscled and completely bare. He was wearing some sort of a costume that left his legs bare too and they were so hard and thick they resembled oak trees.
She glanced at the wheel that had almost rolled over her and saw that it belonged to a chariot. A wave of blazing anger swept over her as she realized she had almost been killed by a bunch of ridiculous men dressed up as Romans racing silly chariots. “You bloody fools! Grown men playing at boys’ games. You should be horsewhipped!”
The dark man pointed a finger. “Seize her!” he commanded.
Two huge men carried out his order immediately. Diana’s teeth rattled in her head as she was pulled to her feet and held immobile until their leader reached her. He towered above her, gripped by a white-hot rage. “You female bundle of rags! You almost injured my horses. Who are you?” he demanded.
She stared up at him in amazement. Though he spoke a strange mixture of Italian and Latin, she understood every word.
“By Jupiter, you’ve stolen a helmet,” he accused as he reached out a massive hand and wrenched it from her head. He saw that the female’s hair was white and thought her an old woman. The filthy, bulky garment she wore covered every inch of flesh from her throat to her heels. She was the strangest-looking female he’d ever seen. “You do not answer me so I’ll answer for you. You are a spy—a Druid spy, by the looks of your strange clothing.”
What he said made no sense. Diana stared into his dark eyes and watched him gain control of his anger. “Get her off the track and keep her out of the way. Manacle her securely—I’ll interrogate her later.”
The men dragged her away. “Let me go! How dare you manhandle me? Is that swine Mark Hardwick?” She knew they understood what she said because they laughed, then replied, “No, the swine is Marcus Magnus, the Primus Pilus.”
The men handled her roughly, not caring that they were hurting her. Fear began to blot out her anger. They took her to a wooden wagon. One of the men reached for an iron collar, which he snapped about her neck, just as if he were leashing a dog that was being troublesome. “You cannot do this to me!” she cried, but the men strode off, their minds on other things. She was instantly forgotten. She was a prisoner of these strange, cruel, and uncivilized men. She sank down in the dust and began to cry.
Once Diana began, she couldn’t stop; she sobbed until she got the dry heaves. Finally she realized that crying would avail her naught. No one took the least notice of her, so with a few sniffing shudders and much wiping of her face with dirty hands and blowing her nose on her sleeve, her sobs subsided.
She began to watch the panorama stretched out before her. A track had been laid out for racing chariots and every man in sight, whether participating in the races or not, was dressed as a Roman soldier. Regardless of their coloring, height, or weight they were all in superb physical condition.They are what men should look like, but seldom do,she thought.
