CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 32
posted by Cat @ 10:22 PM
Monday, October 25, 2004
About Me
- Name: Cat
- Location: BULLARD, Texas, United States
C.R.Myers is a Texan—born and bred in the Lone Star State. A English/Drama teacher by profession, she received her M. A. from the University of Texas at Tyler. As a teacher and professional speaker, she designed and implemented her own creative course as well as writing college sketches, which were performed on a local television station. She decided to start writing seriously only within the last few years. Since then, she has written eleven novels. Black Ice/Shadowed Road was her first published novel. Since then, Through the Shadows, Red, Red Rose, Lady’s Game, Shattered Illusion, and Blonde Logic have been published as well as nine other stories sold to area newspapers and magazines. Through her writing, she has received cards and letters from fans from all over the US and fifteen different countries. The books have sold well and the reviews have been strong, leading to seven book signings and two out of state appearances. Two of the books have been chosen as books to be presented in Austin at the Texas Book Festival.
Previous Posts
- San Pietro
- CHAPTER 31
- Airel View
- CHAPTER 30
- COLOSSEUM
- TIMELESS FIRE - CHAPTER 29
- TODI
- CHAPTER 28
- TIMELESS FIRE - CHAPTER 27
- Roman Facade
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CHAPTER 32
Nicadea stepped out of the shadow of the outbuilding in which she slept with the other slaves. Tomorrow the men would ride out early to meet the barbarians in battle. Her people—the Celts. With any luck, she would be with them. When the idea had first occurred to her, back during the bath, she had thrust it aside. What chance did she have of succeeding? Not much. But if she stayed, her fate would be certain. The more she thought about it, the better it sounded.
Dressed as one of the pages, she would accompany the guards on their ride into battle. The ride would entail an overnight stay. It would be during that stay she would escape into the woods. Nervousness vied with excitement. Never did she contemplate the possibility of failure. The consequences would be too great—maybe even death.
Not that the thought of success was any less terrifying. If she did get away, then what? Could she survive in the forest on her on? She wouldn’t think about that. She couldn’t afford to become fainthearted. A small scurrying sound sent her back against the building. The rough-hewn wood and jagged stone scraped her shoulder blades and the calves of her legs. A small animal looking for food. Probably a rat.
She waited for the sound to fade before moving toward the stables. Her plan was to pilfer one of the page’s hooded robes and hide out until morning. With over two hundred soldiers and pages scrambling around in the pre-dawn, her chances of slipping around unnoticed were good. She would have chosen to disguise herself as a servant, but lack of concealing uniform made the choice less attractive.
The stable smelled of horses, hay, and excrement. She crooked her arm against her nose to block the odor. The crack from the open door cast a dim light on the room beyond. Enough. She saw a line of sleeping men—boys some of them. She knelt by the one on the end. His face was youthful—clean-shaven. She removed the bundle beside him and slipped back through the door.
The moon moved lower in the night sky. Moving to the dark side of the stable, she pulled her head through the opening of the rough material. The garment was large, but not too big to be believable. She would pass. With her hair tightly braided, she wouldn’t be noticed. She turned toward the back of the building. She wanted to be as far away from the boy whose clothes she’d stolen as possible.
By the time she settled in, it was almost time to get back up. Keeping to herself, she tried to mimic the actions of the other pages as nearly as possibly.
They were packing supplies. She pretended to do the same, moving around from place to place. At last they were ready to leave. The soldiers rode in front. The pages and servants marched behind.
A few of the boys made attempts at conversation, but after only receiving a nod in reply, they gave up. The hood covered most of her face. When the sun was straight overhead they stopped to break the morning fast. They had paused several times during the morning, but only long enough to rest the horses.
Nicadea was past tired. Every part of her ached. She had been a fool to think she could get away with such a scheme. Her feet were sore, blistered, and probably bleeding. Her spirits sank. She sat cross-legged on the grass—thoroughly miserable. Just when she thought things couldn’t get much worse, she saw him. The general was walking toward her with purpose. How could he have known? She shrank into herself. He stopped about ten feet away and crooked his finger. He wanted her. He was motioning for her to approach. Her knees shook as she rose to her feet.
CHAPTER 32
Nicadea stepped out of the shadow of the outbuilding in which she slept with the other slaves. Tomorrow the men would ride out early to meet the barbarians in battle. Her people—the Celts. With any luck, she would be with them. When the idea had first occurred to her, back during the bath, she had thrust it aside. What chance did she have of succeeding? Not much. But if she stayed, her fate would be certain. The more she thought about it, the better it sounded.
Dressed as one of the pages, she would accompany the guards on their ride into battle. The ride would entail an overnight stay. It would be during that stay she would escape into the woods. Nervousness vied with excitement. Never did she contemplate the possibility of failure. The consequences would be too great—maybe even death.
Not that the thought of success was any less terrifying. If she did get away, then what? Could she survive in the forest on her on? She wouldn’t think about that. She couldn’t afford to become fainthearted. A small scurrying sound sent her back against the building. The rough-hewn wood and jagged stone scraped her shoulder blades and the calves of her legs. A small animal looking for food. Probably a rat.
She waited for the sound to fade before moving toward the stables. Her plan was to pilfer one of the page’s hooded robes and hide out until morning. With over two hundred soldiers and pages scrambling around in the pre-dawn, her chances of slipping around unnoticed were good. She would have chosen to disguise herself as a servant, but lack of concealing uniform made the choice less attractive.
The stable smelled of horses, hay, and excrement. She crooked her arm against her nose to block the odor. The crack from the open door cast a dim light on the room beyond. Enough. She saw a line of sleeping men—boys some of them. She knelt by the one on the end. His face was youthful—clean-shaven. She removed the bundle beside him and slipped back through the door.
The moon moved lower in the night sky. Moving to the dark side of the stable, she pulled her head through the opening of the rough material. The garment was large, but not too big to be believable. She would pass. With her hair tightly braided, she wouldn’t be noticed. She turned toward the back of the building. She wanted to be as far away from the boy whose clothes she’d stolen as possible.
By the time she settled in, it was almost time to get back up. Keeping to herself, she tried to mimic the actions of the other pages as nearly as possibly.
They were packing supplies. She pretended to do the same, moving around from place to place. At last they were ready to leave. The soldiers rode in front. The pages and servants marched behind.
A few of the boys made attempts at conversation, but after only receiving a nod in reply, they gave up. The hood covered most of her face. When the sun was straight overhead they stopped to break the morning fast. They had paused several times during the morning, but only long enough to rest the horses.
Nicadea was past tired. Every part of her ached. She had been a fool to think she could get away with such a scheme. Her feet were sore, blistered, and probably bleeding. Her spirits sank. She sat cross-legged on the grass—thoroughly miserable. Just when she thought things couldn’t get much worse, she saw him. The general was walking toward her with purpose. How could he have known? She shrank into herself. He stopped about ten feet away and crooked his finger. He wanted her. He was motioning for her to approach. Her knees shook as she rose to her feet.
After having read your story in silent admiration for so long, I thought I'd better come out, still incognito, to say how much I appreciate this story. I sometimes wish that I am reading a book that I can surreptiously skip forward to find out what's going to happen next. Thanks for the wonderful story.
Thank you so much for you nice comment. I know what you mean about flipping forward. :) Audio books are the same way. Alas! I'm so glad you are enjoying the story. (or stories) I have really had fun writing these two. I've had them in the back of my mind for a while. It's nice to get them out and written. :D Write again any time. Hearing from you has been a pleasure!
Hugs,
Cathy
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