Page 88 of Enslaved
They took her to the prison bath, where she was allowed to bathe and brush the tangles from her golden hair. She had no choice but to don the magenta stola once more, and when she was dressed, the guards placed her in a litter and set off with the crowds that were streaming toward the Palatine.
“Where are you taking me?” Diana asked uncertainly.
“Circus Maximus,” came the curt reply.
Circus Maximus? Marcus would not attend the races with his father lying murdered. There must be some mistake!
“You must take me to the villa of Titus Magnus on the slopes of the Esquiline.”
“We have orders from the emperor,” was the only reply they gave.
Perhaps Marcus had gone to Nero himself to get her released. That must be it! Again hope soared in her breast. But once again it was dashed to pieces as she was taken to a cell beneath Circus Maximus and locked inside. The air was heavy with the pungent odor of horse droppings.
She was filled with dire apprehension and could not comprehend why she had been brought to this place. Her throat was so parched and sore, she could not swallow. She longed for a sip of cool water. Because she did not know what was going to happen to her, her imagination had begun to conjure the most terrifying scenarios.
As Diana clung desperately to the bars of her cell, she saw magnificent chariots embellished with silver and gold being pulled along the wide underground passages. She called out to the men, but they would not even look in her direction. They avoided eye contact as if she were somehow loathsome.
Next came majestic horses in teams of four in every color imaginable—jet black, bay chestnut, roan, gray, cream, and pure white. The animals were restive and hard to control. She dimly realized these were the horses used in the chariot races. They could not wait to unleash their pent-up energy in the vast arena.
Would she be taken in one of these chariots to Nero? It seemed such a remote possibility, and yet all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours seemed remote and impossible.
Marcus arrived at Circus Maximus early. Some of the most famous charioteers were racing today and he greatly admired their skills. He knew firsthand how difficult it was to control a team of four horses as they thundered down the track and took the turns. To win a race, so many factors came into play. Not only the temperament and training of the horses, hut the weight of the chariot, the grease on the axles, the length of the reins, and the condition of the track were vitally important.
The prime element necessary to win a chariot race, however, was the attitude of the driver. It not only took skill, courage, and determination, it took recklessness and an iron will to never accept defeat; it took balls!
As Marcus watched the chariots and horses being brought up from the underground stables, he felt his excitement build. Though it was only morning, it promised to be a glorious day. When the races were done, he would leave immediately and surprise Diana. This definitely promised to be one of the most exhilarating days of his life!
Because he lingered with the charioteers, he was late arriving at the Imperial Box. All eyes were focused upon him as he entered and hailed Nero. He flashed a smile of apology. His features were so strong and darkly powerful, Nero wondered how he had thought Petrius the one with beauty.
Diana gasped at the size of the guard who unlocked her cell. He was naked, save for a loincloth and a burning torch. The muscles on his massive body gleamed with oil, and she shrank back in alarm when she saw his face. He had an ugly, hard face that was totally devoid of emotion. His eyes looked dead, they were so impassive. He looked like an executioner!
And suddenly, she knew her nightmare had only just begun. So that he would not lay hands upon her, she stepped from the cell and nodded to him. As she followed him into the arena, she began to pray. Deep in her heart she knew her cause was hopeless and so she sought the help of Saint Jude.
“O holy Saint Jude, apostle and martyr,
Great in virtue and rich in miracles,
Near kinsman of Jesus Christ,
The faithful intercessor of all who invoke
Your special patronage in times of need.
To you I have recourse from the depths of my
heart,
And humbly beg you, to whom God has given
such great power,
To come to my assistance…”
The size of the crowd staggered her. The babble of their voices was so loud it hurt her ears, and then it faded away and all she heard was the pounding of her own heart in her eardrums. She could not swallow, and the pain in her throat had spread to her heart.
Diana walked as if she were in a trance. She had nowhere to go but forward. Even if she were able to cry out, no one would hear. If she ran, she would be cruelly dragged back. She knew that if she begged and groveled, it would avail her naught. All she had left was her dignity. She approached the waiting stake with every shred of it she could muster.
She lifted her chin with disdain as her guard lashed her wrists and ankles to a seven-foot, tarred stake. But when he set the top of it ablaze, she began to tremble like an aspen leaf. Though she faced the Imperial Box, the sun mercifully blinded her and she closed her eyes to block out its brilliance.
