Rule
Britannia
by
Tacitus
Note: This story refers to events depicted in “Satyr’s
Child” (3rd FemFight Story Competition and “Persephone”
(4th FemFight Story Competition)
Where long since a
host of heroes,
Glorious and
gold-adorned
Shone in their
armor
Gazing on gems and
treasure
In this bright city
and its wide domains.
6th Century
Anglo-Saxon poet
on the ruins of Aquae
Sulis (Bath)
I
The
tide was running in as the battered merchant ship slowly settled in shallow
water, its single tattered square sail and splintered steering rudder rendered
useless in the savage storm that was only now abating. While clear to both passengers and crew
that their intended port-of-call, Lympne, would never be reached, of immediate
concern was an ever larger group of men, and some women, gathering on the bluff
overlooking the beach.
Their
intent was clear, for this was Britannia, the scarcely pacified outer reaches of
the Roman Empire, and what the Caesars termed civilization extended
little beyond the towns and forts from which the Legions’ eagles flew. Here on the East Anglia coast the Iceni
tribe still ruled, led by Queen Boudica, in revolt against
Rome.
For
refusing to swear allegiance to Rome after her father’s death, she had been
flogged and her daughters raped by vengeful officials seeking her
inheritance. Once war was declared,
the tribes under her command were ruthless. Striking at the symbols of their
occupation, several Roman towns, including Londinium and Camulodunum, had been
sacked and destroyed. Their
inhabitants, Roman and Celtic alike, were treated the same: men put to the
sword, women ravaged, then with their children, sold into
slavery.
The
plight of the storm-battered merchant ship, transiting from Boulogna to Lympne
across the narrow channel of water separating Gaul from Britannia, offered
another orgy of killing, rape and destruction. Even the certainty of casks of
wine, sacks of grain and other larder of the Empire to be found below decks was
not needed. The ship’s crew
and passengers were citizens of the Empire, and must die or be sold into
slavery.
Under
a barrage of arrows and javelins, the Britons attacked, their shaven chests
stained with an intense blue pigment further exacerbating their savage
appearance marked by animal skins, long matted hair and full beards. Brandishing a motley collection of
swords, battle-axes and spears, they raced across the beach. Some in chariots drove to the surf line,
hurling spears and slashing with swords at their hapless quarry, and then
dashing away. Others stood
sure-footed in the shallows, shooting arrows or heaving spears at point blank
range at the few Roman soldiers and sailors struggling to fall into a defensive
formation amidst the swirling waves.
The
fight was over almost before it began.
Those men who did not perish in battle, but surrendered, were hacked
down, while benumbed woman and children huddled in mass alongside the breached
hull of the ship, fearful of the fate that awaited them in
But
unnoticed in the clamor of battle and looting of the hapless merchant ship was
one female prisoner. A woolen
greatcoat could scarcely conceal her broad shoulders and the smooth, cat-like
manner in which she walked. Though
her bronze and iron body armor and circular disc with polished, honed edge, were
not visible, her captors quickly confiscated a sword strapped to her back as she
was herded together and chained with the others.
The
barbarians were in a hurry, least a Roman cavalry patrol come upon them, and the
unique stature and armament of this woman were ignored, as topside doors to the
ship’s hold were forced open. While
stores, luggage and wine casks were thrown into the surf to be hurriedly loaded
into chariots now serving as small wagons, the huddled prisoners were prodded
forward at the tips of spears towards the surrounding forest. Those that lagged behind, paralyzed or
reluctant with fear, fatigue or wounds, were wordlessly killed by a single swing
of a broad axe.
The
statuesque woman, impervious to the death and destruction around her, marched
forward, ignoring the random prodding and lewd gestures of her guards. More than one Iceni tribesman looked
forward, when tonight’s camp was reached, to tearing coat and leathers away from
those fertile loins and enjoying the fruits of the Empire.
The log and animal hide door was pulled
back and the tall woman thrown on the dirt floor. As she rose slowly to hands and knees
the Iceni guard accompanying her kicked her over on her back. As she half rolled, half crawled to her
left, he advanced, but was suddenly stopped by a low voice from the shadows
bespeaking authority. “Enough…leave
us.”
“Yes, my Queen!” he replied, and bowing
briefly, opened and quickly shut the door.
Through the bluish haze and smoke of the
peat fire, a figure slowly materialized.
Walking towards the tall woman now in a half crouch and gazing upward,
alert for another blow, the low voice again commanded, this time in Latin, “Get
up. You have nothing to fear from
me.”
The prisoner slowly stood, wiping blood
off her cheek from the cut of the guard’s dagger, adjusting her course muslin
shift to cover numerous bruises from handling administered on the way
north. She fully intended to take
revenge when opportunity allowed, but for the moment, intently studied the
handsome, leonine woman standing before her.
“Greek woman, I am Boudica, Queen of the
Iceni. You do not know of me, but I
have heard of you. I understand you
are known throughout the Roman world as Xena, Warrior Princess. One who came here several days ago told
me of you, and the reputation you once enjoyed throughout the
Empire.”
“The one that told me of you had hair that
shown like polished gold. Although
she came from a land far to the north of Greece, she said you knew her. This woman told me you had followed her
from Germania, through Belgae, and would come to Britannia, seeking to kill
her. She also told me that you were
once Champion of Rome. But now,
having been defeated by her on two separate occasions in hand-to-hand combat,
you were merely seeking revenge for your humiliation.”
Xena moved as if to reply, but was stilled
by Boudica’s upraised hand.
“I care not for the truth of what she
says. I sense she is both cunning
and dangerous, and I would not want her as an enemy. Your troubles with her are you own
business.”
“What I want my people to know is that you
are not of our land, travel in Roman ships, and are armed with weapons of the
Caesars…though I do find this curious steel disc of interest,” she added,
lifting the chakram resting alongside Xena’s sword and whip on a small
table.
“I see you have been attended to in our
slave quarters,” Boudica noted with a sense of disgust, carefully raising the
bottom of Xena’s shift with the hilt of her sword. Even in the cabin’s gloom, the dark
bruises on Xena’s boyish flanks and thick inner thighs were visible. The Greek woman said nothing, staring
vengefully into her captor’s eyes.
“I am sorry. At times we can be a harsh and cruel
people. Fine women with a body such
as yours from the warm southern sea are a rarity this far north. I must choose my guards from those I
drag from the whorehouses and taverns of East Anglia. They expect to be rewarded for such duty
with more than just kind words. I
am certain as a Roman citizen you understand the position of women in this
world. At least your wounds, while
painful, will eventually heal.”
Xena said nothing, the low red glare of
her eyes and clinched fists barely discernable in the poor light of the
room.
“Now, I have told my people that you came
to Britannia for no reason other than to assist the Caesars in destroying our
homes and making my people slaves to the Empire. In your sun-drenched distant
land, you call this ‘The Roman Peace.’
But here in Britannia, though clouds frequently hide the sun, we see more
clearly: Under the Emperor’s eagle
and gilded boar’s head standard of the Legio XX Valeria, you are turning
my homeland to desert.”
“Xena regardless of the woman’s story, I
have told my people that you were sent here by the proconsul Suetonius Paulinus
to help your Emperor take our land from us. I do not think this is true, but I find
your unwanted presence useful for my own purposes, as I seek to rally my people
for the great struggle ahead.”
“You are my captive and will do my
bidding. Presented as the Champion
of Rome, I intend for you to meet in our arena an opponent I have personally
selected. Her name is Astrid, and
she will represent my people, my family and me. You will fight her for your life. If you lose, so be it. Your head will ride on a pike outside
the main gate for all to see. If
you win, and kill her, you will take her place in my retinue as my personal
slave and bodyguard. You will
protect my daughters from our enemies as we fight for what is ours. If you refuse to serve in this manner,
you will be killed.”
“Though you were trained in the manner of
the Ancient Greeks and are familiar with gymnasias and arenas, you will fight in
our way, here in the pit we use as a training corral to break our horses and
settle blood feuds among our warriors.
From what the woman told me, I am certain you are very skilled in warrior
ways as the Champion of Rome. But
Astrid is but a stupid Pic familiar with nothing but an axe and what I have
begun to teach her of the Roman short sword you call a gladius.”
“Therefore,
you will both fight wearing only a thin shift. There will be no weapons…and no
rules. Hands, feet, and teeth—you
can use any body part or attack anywhere. I have heard of your gladiator
contests in Gaul and further south, and we destroyed an arena being built for
such games when we put the Londinium garrison to the sword. So I am certain that as Champion
of Rome, fighting in what you call civilization, you have acquired many skills,
not all taught to you by the masters of the ancient way in the Greek
Olympiad.”
“You
should give no mercy…and expect none in return.”
III
Astrid had been captured on a raid against
the Pics to the far north. A woman
of immense size and strength referred to by her most notable physical attribute
as “Thicklegs,” her time as captive had been spent as a personal slave to
Boudica and her daughters. Freed
from the common Celtic slave chores of spreading dung in the fields, digging
peat, herding goats or tending pigs, Astrid was renown amongst the Iceni for her
strength and prowess in wrestling other Iceni woman and fighting Romans with a
battle axe while serving as Queen Boudica’s personal
retainer.
As Boudica rose to address the crowd, even
without understanding her words, it was clear to Xena that, as the Queen had
told her earlier in the day, she was being presented to the assembled spectators
as the Champion of Rome and Astrid as the Champion of the Iceni, indeed of all
Britannia. As Boudica continued to
excite the crowd as to the Roman peril before them in the arena, “Thicklegs”
grew impatient, pawing the ground with her foot as if a horse in
traces.
Though appearing somewhat sullen and
slow-eyed, she was big-boned with well-muscled legs, layered biceps and triceps,
wide thick shoulders, and a hooked nose that had obviously been broken several
times. This was a female wrestler
larger, and at least as powerful, as the Warrior Princess.
This fight would certainly be a tough one,
Xena thought, a real challenge to one who seldom faced opponents of equal size
and strength. Xena
half-smiled, thinking of what Callisto would do in such a situation, and
recalled some of the tactics that had served the blonde she-bitch so well in her
struggles with the Greek woman in the past.
Finally done addressing her kinsman,
Boudica abruptly switched to Latin and faced the Warrior Princess. “When I drop this gauntlet, the contest
will begin.”
Immediately she turned towards Astrid and
gestured to the crowd but before the raised gauntlet was even proffered, the
impatient Pic charged forward, attacking Xena before she could move away from
the wall. Her forward progress
blocked by the large mass running with arms outstretched, Xena covered up as the
Pic woman moved in to launch a furious assault. Protecting her head and eyes, Xena
gasped in pain as Astrid’s fist smashed into her chest, driving the air from her
lungs. She bent forward as a lower
fist sank deep into her abdominals.
A clubbing blow to the back of the neck, followed by a brutal kick that
caught the Thracian warrior square in the stomach dropped the Greek woman to her
knees, clutching her midriff as the Pic warrior towered over her stunned
foe.
Sensing easy victory against this weak
Greek woman, Astrid dropped to her knees, coming face to face with Xena. Grasping the Warrior Princess by the
hair and jerking her on her side, she rolled her onto her back. Moving alongside her victim, she quickly
drove her right hand between Xena’s thighs and latched on to her pubic
mound.
The Thracian shrieked loudly and swung her
left leg outward as she opened her legs wide to alleviate the pain. Both hands grasped the Pic’s powerful
forearm in an attempt to break the hold, but Astrid shifted her weight forward
and drove a hard left elbow into Xena’s mouth. Gasping for breath in a bloody froth,
the Warrior Princess thrashed about, vainly trying to alleviate the searing pain
in her crotch. She raised her lower
torso off the pit floor, impervious to another forearm smash in the mouth, and
while elevated she continued to twist away from her
nemesis.
Moans of anguish passed her bloody lips
while her thighs widened, clearly showing the crowd enjoying the spectacle the
devastatingly savage act being performed upon her maidenhood. Freeing one hand to strike at the face
of “Thicklegs,” her other finally succeeded in tearing lose the hold on her
pubic region that had proven so painful.
She rolled clear to her left, towards the center of the pit, and slowly
gained her feet.
Almost immediately the Pic woman was on
her again, and two quick kicks to the belly drove her back against the pit
wall. As Astrid moved forward to
continue the attack, Xena sensed a momentary opening and drove a desperate right
fist straight into her face. Blood
sprayed from the resultant broken nose as the Pic screamed. As she shook her head to clear the pain,
Xena stepped under her flailing arms, drove another fist into her chin, and then
followed up with a series of solid blows to the Pic’s breasts, stomach, and
pubic region.
Intent on keeping the initiative, Xena
savored the feeling as her fists drove hard into the body of her opponent. Each blow to the head propelled a fine
spray of blood, mucus and saliva into the air, and a pointed kick to the crotch
drove Boudica’s slave to her knees.
The Warrior Princess now concentrated on raining blows on the back of the
head, shoulders and upper back of her stunned opponent.
One particularly savage blow to the side
of Astrid’s head knocked her backwards.
Xena quickly dropped, pivoting over the prone body and positioning her
knees atop the dark hair of the Pic, pinning her head to the pit floor, wedged
between powerful thighs. Astrid
brought her hands up in a vain attempt to claw at Xena’s breasts beneath the
muslin shift, but the Warrior Princess easily grabbed hold of both wrists and
pinned them to the floor, while moving forward to sit atop the Pic’s face. As the Greek warrior lowered herself
upon the hapless woman, her legs thrashed frantically from side to side as she
struggled beneath the weight of the face sitting. In response, Xena rocked herself
back-and-forth, grinding her sweaty crotch into the face of her victim, slowly
smothering her. “Something I
learned from Callisto,” Xena recalled!
Through sweat and blood glazed eyes, Xena
gazed upward at the Queen of the Iceni.
Boudica was clearly entranced, more interested in the marital prowess and
sexual assault tactics of the Warrior Princess than she was in the fate of her
own slave. “Regardless of the other
woman’s assertions, this Greek was Champion of Rome. The Empire had much to
teach!”
Yelling a guttural cry of victory, Xena
leaned back and slid a hand through a tear in her opponent’s shift, while at the
same time pulling back slightly to allow the Pic some space to breath. The sound of her tortured gasping for
air was soon replaced by cries of anguished pain, as Xena found what she was
searching for and pulled and tore at the area between her foe’s closed
thighs.
Continuing this torture and seeking
greater purchase, Xena leaned even further back as clamped thighs slid below the
breasts of her opponent. Suddenly,
the Pic woman raised her legs off the pit floor and quickly closed them around
Xena’s neck, tightened her massive legs, locking them at the ankles, and pulled
down. Xena’s back bowed over while
her lower legs remained flat on the pit floor, her stomach muscles rigid with
the strain placed on her abdominal area.
Astrid drove two clenched fist blows into the Greek woman’s stomach, but
they lacked the hitting power required, and Xena quickly rolled over into the
dirt and freed herself.
Gaining her feet and backing away, the
dark-haired Thracian tore the tattered shift from her splendid body, and
bouncing on the balls of her feet, arms dangling loosely at her side, waited for
her opponent to rise. The Celtic
Champion, clearly hurting and slowly gaining her feet, discarded her shredded
garment.
As soon as Astrid was upright Xena barred
her teeth, stepped forward, and drove two hammering blows in rapid succession
into the bare breasts of her opponent.
Two quick side kicks to the stomach and groin threw Astrid back against
the pit wall. Xena closed her dazed
opponent, but as she drove another hard punch into the lower stomach area, the
Celt encircled the Greek woman’s body with her arms and folded her in close,
breast to breast.
Although Xena responded by driving
repeated fists into her opponent’s sides and lower back, with her powerful bear
hold Astrid sensed a chance to win.
Raising and bracing her left foot against the pit wall, she pulled Xena
towards her, driving a left knee hard into the Greek woman’s crotch. She repeated the tactic twice more,
sensing each time in the shock resounding through the encircled body the pain
she was inflicting on the Greek woman as her knee thudded into the dark mound
between the Warrior Princess’s sweat-sheathed thighs.
Xena tried to pull away, but failed in
several attempts to break the brutal wrestling hold. She then reversed tactics and drove
Astrid against the pit wall, and as her body rebounded, the Warrior Princess
sank her teeth deep between the Pic’s cleavage, biting and tearing in
desperation to break the hold.
Astrid responded by shrieking in pain. Her arms let go as she reached for
Xena’s hair to pull the terrible head from between her breasts. The move freed Xena’s arms, and her
hands tore at the Pic’s sides and thighs, nails slashing and
cutting.
As her head was forced from her victim’s
breasts, Xena dropped to the floor and rolled away toward the pit center. With her opponent staggered, but still
on her feet, the Warrior Princess crouched low and moved in quickly, launching another side kick into her
opponent’s belly. Giving a wounded
cry, Astrid clutched at herself.
Another foot into her side had the Pic doubled over. From the viewing area, Queen Boudica
smiled in appreciation of the marital prowess being displayed by both
combatants. “Perhaps they both
should live, worthy retainers to fight Rome.”
Xena closed for more bodywork, but the
Celt flung her arms around her opponent’s waist to keep herself upright. As the Greek woman rained hammering
blows on the Celt’s broad shoulders and upper back, Astrid slowly sank lower,
until her large hands were cupped around each firm buttock of her Greek
tormentress. Realizing a sudden
opportunity, she drove her head in close to Xena’s ribs, and muscular arms
straining, lifted her attacker off the pit floor. Reacting in surprise at her opponent’s
move, and desperate for some counter, Xena feverishly rained blows down on
Astrid’s head, but to no avail. The
Celt giant straightened her legs, fully extended her arms, and threw Xena up and
over her left shoulder.
The Warrior Princess landed flat on her
back, stunned, with the breath knocked out of her. Struggling to regain her balance, Astrid
slowly turned around and dropped painfully to both knees astride Xena’s
waist. Grimacing with the effort,
she dug strong fingers from both hands deep into the Greek warrior’s belly,
eliciting a scream of pain as the double claw hold sank into tortured
abdominals. Astrid momentarily
released one hand, only to renew the tactic sinking long fingers and sharpened
nails deep into Xena’s right breast, tearing at the nipple at the same
time.
Xena thrashed in frenzied pain, attempting
to escape, her sweat slick body leaving moist marks in the pit dirt as she
rolled in agony. Just as it
appeared she might escape, Astrid released both holds and vaulted over the
prostrate body below. Grabbing
Xena’s shoulders as she attempted to roll away, the Greek woman was spun over,
face down in the dirt. Astrid
lowered herself atop the Warrior Princess’s lower back.
The Pic slipped her left forearm around
Xena’s throat, cinched up her hold, and drove her knee into the small of the
Greek’s back. Teeth bared, breathe
coming harshly, she pulled the Warrior Princess up into a painful bow. As the Thracian twisted to the left in a
futile attempt to escape, Astrid tightened her hold on Xena’s neck and renewed
her effort. The Greek’s initial
screams of pain were now strangled by the choking grip of her opponent’s arm
wrapped around her neck. With back
bent nearly at right angles to the pit floor, pendulous breasts thrust forward
in pain, the crowd sensed the end of the contest and rose to its
feet.
Astrid rocked back and forth, each
movement further bending the back of her victim. But on one upswing, the Greek woman
twisted violently to the left and threw the woman atop her off into the
dirt. Half crawling, half rolling,
Xena slithered across the pit floor, desperately seeking time and distance from
the Pic giantess.
But the Warrior Princess managed to only
struggle to her knees before her adversary, aggressively striding across the
pit, was again on her, delivering a vicious knee to Xena’s left breast. Crying aloud, the Greek fell backwards
to the pit floor. Astrid stepped
forward, grabbed the dark tresses of the Thracian warrior with her left hand,
and pulled her to her feet. A right
fist to the belly, followed by a numbing blow to the crotch dropped the Greek
back to her knees.
Astrid dropped down to Xena’s level and
began slamming fists into her victim’s lower abdominals. Moving in closer, she wrapped her
massive arms around Xena’s lower waist in a bear hold, crushing the air out of
the Greek warrior’s lungs.
Desperately sucking wind in exhaustion, Xena’s forehead fell forward,
resting on Astrid’s left shoulder as the Celt struggled to her feet, biceps,
pectorals and thigh muscles bulging with the dead weight of the Warrior
Princess.
In the process of standing, Xena’s face
slipped down the front of the Pic’s chest, immersed in her large breasts. Clearly struggling in the fleshy
confines, Xena tried to pull back, but sensing a new advantage, Astrid quickly
drove the broad back of the Warrior Princess against the pit wall. Xena tried to shift her head to relieve
the stress and get some air, but the large Pic woman successfully used her mass
and arm and leg strength to counter Xena’s every move.
Beefy, curvaceous arms now hanging
listlessly at her sides, the Greek woman appeared defeated, and the crowd’s
cheers arose as it sensed the imminent defeat of the Champion of Rome. Astrid sensed their elation and acclaim,
and suddenly released her bear hold on the Warrior Princess, allowing her victim
to fall face forward to the pit floor.
Xena’s respite from the Pic was
short-lived. Flipped over on her
back as she attempted to rise by a brutal kick to the midriff, Astrid grabbed
her legs, pulled them under her arms and rocked forward, driving the Greek
woman’s shoulders and upper back into the pit dirt. Astrid took advantage of the Warrior
Princess’s position by driving another knee into her crotch, and when Xena’s
moved to cover her vital area, the Pic dropped both legs, leaped atop her
opponent’s prostrate form, and settled down on her waist. With massive thighs pinning Xena’s arms
to her sides, Astrid grabbed hold of her raven tresses with both hands and began
pounding her head into the pit floor.
The Warrior Princess sensed the danger of
her position, and rolled back and forth attempting to free her arms from their
imprisonment. Finally she was able to wedge her right arm next to her body, and
a quick flex freed it. With little
choice of target or time, Xena went for the head and drove a dirty thumb
straight into the Pic’s left eye. A
cry of pain, and the pounding of her head ceased as the Pic rocked back in
agony, both hands raised to her face.
Xena quickly freed her left hand, and both
hands, fingers extended, sank into the Pic woman’s ample breasts. Reacting to the new counter, Astrid
lowered both hands to her chest, vainly trying to grab Xena’s wrists with both
hands. A quick roll to the left,
and the Greek warrior was free, as both opponents scrambled to their
feet.
The Pic was still tenderly cupping her
tortured breasts when the Warrior Princess, sweat glistening off heaving chest,
rippling stomach and hard flanks, renewed her attack, driving a right fist
straight into the battered face of her opponent, followed by a quick side kick
to the groin. Astrid’s face
betrayed her pain, stumbling backwards as Xena’s onslaught continued. As her opponent neared the pit wall, the
Greek woman suddenly ran forward, crushing both sweating bodies together as they
impacted the wall. The Pic grunted
in pain as the air was driven from her lungs, and dropped both hands to protect
her crotch as Xena drove a sharp blow between her legs with her right hand,
keeping the left forearm pressing Astrid’s neck against the pit
wall.
Again and again Xena’s blows stunned the
Pic, as each protective move was brushed aside. As Xena’s left hand went around the
Pic’s throat, she used the corresponding response of both her victim’s arms
being raised to spin her opponent around so that she now faced the wall, back
exposed to the hammering blows of the Warrior Princess.
Astrid grunted in pain at repeated blows
to the ribs, kidneys, and upper thighs.
Xena suddenly grabbed her right wrist, twisted and jerked the arm
straight, folded it behind and up against the Pic’s lower back, then raised it
higher and higher until the arm was dislocated in a cry of
anguish.
But Xena refused to relent, sensing her
final opportunity to win this struggle.
Allowing her opponent’s right arm to dangle uselessly, she quickly
switched to the left wrist. Sensing
her tactic, the Pic tried to spin away to her right, but as the ravaged shoulder
impacted the pit wall she cried out in pain and her momentary pause provided
Xena the opportunity she needed to wrench the left wrist behind her back, and
quickly raise it up towards the Pic’s other meaty shoulder. Another intense cry of pain, another
dislocated shoulder, and Xena backed away as her victim remained erect only by
sliding, face forward, down the wall, her path marked by moist streaks of blood,
sweat and dirt.
The crowd now sensed that the tide had
turned and the end was near for their Champion, though they remained standing,
intent on observing and admiring the prowess being displayed by the Greek woman
warrior. Xena gazed at Boudica, but
seeing no sign of concern or mercy, returned to battle. It was killing
time.
Astrid’s punch-drunk, shuffling movements
as she attempted to evade the Warrior Princess’s extended arms showed the extent
of damage to her body. As the Greek
woman closed on her, she was unable to prevent the powerful arms of the Warrior
Princess from snaking around her sides above her waist. Now cinching up tight and hoisting the
Pic woman onto her toes with a series of jerking wrenches, Xena pounded her back
into the wall, as her lower fists drove hard into the helpless woman’s lower
back.
Astrid was conscious, but capable of
little resistance, as her head lolled sickenly to one side or another in
response to Xena’s afflictions. The
Greek cinched up again and crushed her lower rib cage, driving hard against the
pit wall to accentuate the effect of her wrestling hold. She felt a rib crack in her opponent and
promptly let go, as the Pic staggered aimlessly around the pit floor, sobbing in
pain, unable to even hold her tortured sides. A low growl emanated from the crowd as
their Champion slowly fell to one knee.
Xena looked for some sign of compassion
from Boudica, but seeing nothing, again closed her victim. Looping a leg around Astrid’s left
thigh, the Greek woman twisted around and under a listless left arm, ran her
right arm across the Pic’s chest, bent over at the waist, and bowed her victim’s
body back in a brutal abdominal stretch.
The panicked cries of pain from her victim
only increased Xena’s lust for final victory, as she increased the pressure on
the Pic’s stomach and brutalized rib cage.
Arms dangling uselessly, with the crowd’s cries of sympathy and
encouragement now overwhelmed by the hapless victim’s shrieks of pain, Xena
acknowledged neither. Her blood
lust up, she curled further forward, intending to break the spine of her
opponent.
Suddenly Boudica was astride her, a firm
arm on her shoulder. “Enough…you
win...Warrior Princess! Stop…” she
commanded, to the acclaim of the crowd.
With a final surge of power and torment, Xena snapped lower, than
abruptly released her victim to fall listlessly into the
dirt.
As the Pic woman moaned softly and writhed
from side to side in wordless agony, Xena stood back, the avenging Warrior
Princess. Looking at the Iceni
Queen for a suggestion of protocol, and receiving none, she raised both hands
above her head in the traditional sign of athletic triumph in the Olympiad. Wreathed in sweat, blood and dirt,
muscles and burnished flanks glistening from supreme exertion, breasts high up
and erect, nipples engorged with both pain and arousal, the naked woman warrior
standing before them was the embodiment of an Empire everywhere
triumphant.
IV
The attack came at dusk just as Iceni
wagons laden with plunder from the raid entered the river’s shallows. A vexilatio of the Legio XX
Valeria numbering more than 900 men, with supporting archers, slingers and
Germanic cavalry, broke out of the dark woods above the stream, plunging down
the hillside like a human avalanche, unstoppable in its
fury.
The Iceni warriors in escort were quickly
overwhelmed by the suddenness and ferocity of the attack, and barely impeded the
assault before fleeing for their lives.
In the rear of the column, the Queen’s retinue fought to the death, their
sacrifice enabling Boudica to escape with her daughters and a mounted detachment
into the surrounding moors.
Numidian and Roman infantry surrounded
Xena, separated from the Queen in her harried flight. Parrying a deadly sword
thrust to her chest, a blow to the back from a slinger’s stone drove her to one
knee, and a brutal strike to the neck from the shaft of a heavy pilum
javelin knocked her unconscious.
As the victors probed amongst battlefield
debris looking for loot as well as those whose wounds would not prevent their
being sold into slavery, a mounted cavalry commander, a decurio clad in
black leather and bronze armor, drew up before Xena’s still body, half covered
by fallen companions and adversaries.
Dismounting, and drawing a short
pugio dagger adorned with a small gilded boar’s head, the decurio
carefully approached the bodies piled around the fallen Warrior Princess. Satisfied all were dead or incapable of
resistance, the commander gestured to two nearby legionnaires and pointed with
the dagger to Xena. “If this Greek
whore is alive, chain her with the others.
When we reach Londinium, bring her to my quarters…unharmed. She is mine…and I will personally kill
anyone who touches the bitch,” the decurio commanded, gesturing with the
bright dagger to ensure understanding.
The soldiers nodded wordlessly in assent
and began pulling lifeless bodies away from the Warrior Princess. The decurio laughed
derisively. Removing a glittering
helmet, cascading blonde hair fell below thin, but powerful shoulders. Intently studying the unconscious woman
at her feet, in sotto voce she murmured, “So, Xena…we meet
again!”
V
As the raven-haired Thracian warrior
slowly swam upwards in the black pool that engulfed her, the blonde mane of hair
and coltish flanks of the woman lingering above came slowly into focus. Lying on a wide wooden table, wrists
securely bound and stretched firmly above her head with less tightly bound
ankles allowing only limited movement, Xena realized at once the powerlessness
of her position.
“You,” she gasped, her voice barely above
a whisper.
“Why hello Xena, so nice of you to come
calling!” came a lilting, high-pitched voice dripping in sarcasm. Callisto leaned forward to loosen the
Greek woman’s leather and bronze-banded armor. Looming above to unhook shoulder straps and tug the heavy
cuirass down to her waist, Xena could not help but admire the blonde’s ivory
skin stretched taughtly over a slim, yet well-defined frame highlighted by
small, beautifully rounded breasts filling out the upper body armor, a clearly
defined rib cage and below the black leather, a narrow waist that flared to
long, lithe legs. “The Gods, this
warrior-nymph was beautiful!”
“Yes, you Thracian whore…I am
beautiful…and I know you want me…” Callisto interjected, reading her mind. “It’s about time you started
surrendering to your passions, fool.
Look around. Look where your
seeking revenge has got you…right where I have wanted you all along. Your sword and chakram…mine…your
powerful body…helpless…mine to play with.
Your life…or your death…mine to decide. My darling Xena, it does not get any
better than this!”
She lowered her mouth and kissed Xena full
on the lips, her hand stealing to the Warrior Princess’s naked left breast,
hefting and feeling its fullness, pinching the peaked nipple already hard with
desire.
“You have…” Xena whispered, instinctively
arching into the tormentress’s lips and fingers.
“…everything…that’s
right, dearie,” Callisto agreed, finishing her sentence for her. Murmuring into the warm, dark tongue
entering her mouth she continued, “Breaking you to my desires like a proud, free
stallion will be interesting…but…oh so…so…much fun!”
“You
will never…” Xena retorted, bucking upwards to throw the blonde dominatrix
off.
Callisto
laughed as she slid down her prisoner’s body, stopping at mid-thigh. Using the
Greek woman’s struggles against her, she methodically stripped Xena’s remaining
leather skirt and thin, cotton undergarment away. “Beautiful,” she whispered, trailing
fingers down the Warrior Princess’s now bare torso. Her hand momentarily stopped, caressing
the strident abdominal muscles rigid with desire…and fear…and then gently moved
lower below the flat stomach.
Xena’s legs shifted languidly, moaning softy as Callisto’s mouth slid
away.
Again
the German woman fondled a dark, coral tipped breast between thumb and index
finger. “All your power…your
strength…a stallion for me to ride…now all mine.”
“You
repeat yourself, bitch” Xena half-growled, half-whined, in a voice increasingly
tinged with both tension and arousal.
“Maybe,
but then I do not have the benefit of your Greek education. Besides, I’ve wanted
you for a very long time. And Xena,
put your Aristolean pride aside and admit it, cunt. You want me.”
Unwilling
to wait for a response from her prisoner, Callisto removed the small silver
dagger from within her black leather cuirass, quickly followed by her black
leather skirt and cotton shift.
Straddling her prostrate victim’s waist with lithe, muscular thighs, she
began slowly shifting downward, lavishing soft kisses over the Thracian
warrior’s full breasts, navel, and moist maidenhood.
“No…,”
the Warrior Princess gasped, while at the same time arching into warm caresses
of wet lips, abdominal muscles rippling in response to kneading
fingers.
Callisto
giggled at the sight of the Greek woman’s body betraying her words and thrust
her hand hard into the warmth between her captive’s thighs. “Why Xena, dear, you are already wet,”
she grinned triumphantly. Sliding
still lower, dropping kisses over dark curls, Callisto shifted again, pushing
Xena’s legs apart as much as restraints would permit.
Kneeling
between them, she returned to the muscular inner thighs, alternating harsh
kneading with soft caresses, and purred, “Accept it whore…you’re
mine.”
“No!”
the Warrior Princess asserted.
“Oh,
my little Greek girl, weren’t you paying attention in our time together in
Carnuntum? Bad girl! As I told you then when it was me, not
you, bound and a prisoner…we all belong to someone.” Callisto smiled, and lowered her
head between her constrained lover’s thighs, kissing and sucking first at the
dark snatch, and then delicately outlining the muscles banding Xena’s abdomen
with her tongue.
The
raven-haired Thracian moaned and whimpered, but said
nothing.
Sensing
her prisoner’s capitulation, Callisto now explored her body with total abandon,
as her victim resigned herself to arousal and first harsh, then tender,
menstruations from the callused hands of her blonde adversary. Xena gasped and shuddered, muscles
alternately pulling taut, then relaxing, on the binding ropes. Eyes glistening, she bucked against
Callisto’s mouth and fingers when they entered her, but with a despairing groan
deep in her throat, acknowledged her helplessness.
As
passion began to build in the blonde German warrior, she suddenly arched up and
over her lover, coming down hard on top of the prone body, rising and falling
again, two bodies forming, breaking, and then forming again as one,
breast-to-breast, thigh-to-thigh.
Her mouth came down on Xena’s own, as the Greek woman shuddered again,
tasting herself on her lover’s lips.
Callisto raised herself, muscles contracting, as she began thrusting
against the Warrior Princess. In
response, Xena wrapped her heavy thighs around Callisto’s slender hips, stomach
muscles rippling as she surged against her, secretly delighting in the delicious
friction between two hard bodies.
“The
Gods…you are truly all woman!” Callisto groaned passionately, “Maybe I should
give up fighting, killing and pillaging these miserable Britons and just keep
you here…with me…in my bed.” She
dropped her head, nipped Xena’s shoulder with her teeth, and then drew them
harshly down across the Greek warrior’s breasts. “My personal sex slave…a one
woman-woman…how would you like that?”
Xena
groaned deep in her throat, half mad with the stimulus caused by Callisto’s
mouth scraping over her sensitive skin.
“I would rather die first,” she ground out between tightly clenched
teeth, beads of sweat appearing on her forehead.
“Then
maybe you will, you fool,” Callisto chortled, slapping her across the face. “You
are no longer Champion of Rome…get over it! You are despised in Amphipolis…hunted in
Germania and Belgae, as I have told them, for conspiring against the Empire…and
the legions here in this shit-hole they call Britannia think of you as but a
camp slut who has betrayed them to Boudica and her Iceni
hordes.”
“Get
real, bitch. You are mine, Greek
whore, to do with as I see fit. You
can pleasure me as I desire…or I can kill you as I desire. Xena…you are
nothing…nothing!”
Callisto
slid her hands up Xena’s outstretched arms, massaging tight chords of muscle
stretched taut in a lover’s embrace.
Her eyes burned brightly, beads of sweat on her forehead, saliva dripping
from the corners of her mouth.
“Now, there…there… Xena! See
how excited you have made me…and I am not even in you!”
“Still…I
feel good…so very good. Because…we
are having our first lovers’ quarrel…and we are not even married…yet! Come now…be a good little girl. Surrender to me, my
love!”
“You…me…never,”
gasped the Thracian warrior in hoarse cadence, her voice a bare whisper. In response, Callisto’s strong hands
tightened on Xena’s forearms. The blonde pushed her hips hard against the broad
expanse of the Warrior Princess’s flat belly, seeking to accentuate the lustful
sense of friction that both women clearly delighted in.
“No,”
Xena gasped futilely, trying to hold herself perfectly still, despite the overt
stimulation being administered to her pubic area. But it was no use, as first Callisto’s
tongue, and then her fingers, again sought out the moist, dark area between the
Greek’s thighs. Both women began
writhing against one another, gathering momentum with every slide of flesh on
flesh. Breathing hard and wreathed
in sweat, Callisto began to wildly thrust up and down as the muscles in Xena’s
shoulders, arms and abdomen stood out in sharp relief, responding to the
incessant pounding of the gyrating body above them.
“No…not
yet…” Callisto screamed loudly as if willing control over Xena’s, as well as her
own, passion. “Not until I tell
you,” she shouted as she repeatedly slapped the Greek woman’s face below
her. “Wait!”
The
blonde continued to wildly pump up-and-down, varying her speed and rhythm. Suddenly she felt her own orgasm flare
and simultaneously yelled “Now!” to the body beneath her, digging fingers and
sharp nails deep into Xena’s sides below her ribs.
Responding
in both agony and ecstasy, Xena screamed as she too went over, hips bucking
uncontrollably against the blonde dominatrix.
A
final convulsive shudder…and Callisto collapsed atop the Warrior Princess,
burying her face between the full breasts of her Greek
maiden.
The two taut, nude Amazons warily circled
one another in the center of the arena.
Callisto watched the deep-breasted woman as a hungry lioness stalking her
prey, slender but powerful arms moving with quick, fluid motions, searching for
an opening to attack. Her more
heavily muscled opponent, hands loosely at her sides, matched her adversary’s
every move.
“You know Xena, it did not have to end
like this, your demanding a fight to the death with me,” Callisto asserted. “And in the nude from the
beginning. My, my…you do remember
Byzantium. I must have made quite
an impression!”
Silence.
The blonde woman slyly smiled. “What’s wrong with my little girl? Fear got your
tongue?”
Again, no reply.
“Yes Xena, the Romans think you a traitor,
for now, but that is because they do not know you like I do. You see, they think you are evil,
plotting against the Empire. I know
you for what you are…little more than a stupid Greek whore.”
“But Xena, you erred in demanding this
contest in what passes for an arena in this sty. Suetonius Paulinus would have listened
to me. After all, I am commanding
his Germanic cavalry against the barbarian Boudica. I could have convinced him of your
innocence, of the fact that you were with the Iceni rebels only because you had
been captured.”
“And if that did not work, you could have
always come to his bed yourself.
What Soldier of Rome would not want to hump the Warrior Princess, to
suckle those large breasts, to feel those magnificently muscled thighs close
around his head? Trust me Xena…you
are quite a catch…though you are not the marrying kind, now are
you?”
“But no…you are too proud…too Greek…to go
down on a Roman for your life. So
instead, we will fight to the death here in this shit-hole at the edge of
nowhere. Pity…no one of importance
is here to watch you die!”
“Callisto, you talk too much. Why should I trust you with my life,
bitch?” Xena snarled, all the time carefully watching her opponent’s every
move.
“Well, why not, love. What have I ever done to you…oh…except
humiliate you in front of thousands in Byzantium…dethrone you as Champion of
Rome…fondle those luscious breasts and thighs for the pleasure of the legions on
the Danubian frontier…and now fuck you to tears in Britannia! Have I ever denied you anything, love?”
Callisto jeered.
Without answering, Xena suddenly twisted
her body and sent a powerful kick flashing at her lesser foe’s
ribs.
Dancing
back, Callisto laughed, “Was it something I said…my dear?” as the Greek woman
lashed out with a second, and then a third kick at her retreating
opponent.
A
half-smile passed over Xena’s face as she imagined this tender, nubile
woman…high breasts…slim waist…encircling arms…a warm loving embrace…and then…
crushing the breath from her body.
Callisto
sensed a sudden lack of focus and dancing forward, pounded a series of flashing
fists into Xena’s head. The blonde
laughed demonically as her jabs slammed into the Warrior Princess’s jaw, rocking
her head back as she retreated, throwing arms up to block the slashing
blows. Responding to a devastating
high kick, the larger woman shook her head as blood flowed from a broken nose
and smashed lip. But even in pain,
a half-smile was again evident in Xena’s countenance. “The Gods, this woman can
fight!”
Seeking
early advantage, Callisto leaped toward her enemy, a long lithe leg flashing up
at the Thracian woman’s head. Xena
twisted her torso as the foot flashed by and drove a hard forearm up into the
slender calf, driving the German’s leg higher. Callisto yelped in pain and leaned away,
off balance, as the heavier Warrior Princess advanced. Suddenly releasing the blonde’s leg,
Xena stepped in close and hammered a right fist deep into Callisto’s
belly.
The
blonde gasped, and bent over in pain as Xena drilled down with a forearm smash
against the proffered neck. Raising
both arms above her head, heavy breasts erect with exertion, Xena clubbed down
again, fists clasped, driving Callisto into the dirt.
As
the blonde struggled to rise, flailing lamely at Xena’s lower legs, the Warrior
Princess bent down, grabbed a handful of blonde tresses, hauled the German woman
to her feet, and then caught her up under the arms in a chest-to-chest bear
hug. Callisto’s face etched in pain
as the embrace of Xena’s thick arms clamped tight. Cinching up her arms, the strength of
the Thracian’s hold drove the air from her victim’s lungs, legs and knees
thrashing ineffectually astride Xena’s thighs. With teeth bared and grunting in
exertion, the Warrior Princess’s fists drove deep into her opponent’s lower
back.
Suddenly
she released her trapped quarry, but as Callisto stumbled backward, Xena quickly
stepped forward, spun her around, and again snaked her arms around the blonde’s
slender waist. As Xena raised her
arms to clinch directly beneath her opponent’s breasts, Callisto cried out in
pain, as the now dominant Warrior Princess lifted her clear of the ground,
crushing her rib cage. Callisto
eyes shut tight, sinuous arms draped uselessly across Xena’s bulging
biceps.
Again
Xena let her victim go. Callisto
fell to the ground, but then spun around on her knees and wrapped arms around
the powerful legs of her adversary.
Her upper back now exploded in pain as Xena’s fists thudded into it, then
shifted to her shoulders and head.
Suddenly the blonde thrust away and, nubile lithe body spinning quickly
on one knee, drove a savage kick into the Greek’s pubic area. Callisto heard the wounded cry of pain
from her nemesis, and quickly followed up with two jarring fists into the lower
rib cage and abdomen.
Momentarily
stunned, Xena was too slow to catch the blonde as she leaped to her feet,
grabbed one of the dark woman’s arms and spun her into the arena wall. Then, stepping back, she drove two solid
kicks to Xena’s breasts, a slashing blow into the side of her face, and a stiff
fingered thrust into the throat that gagged the Warrior
Princess.
Hands
futilely seeking to defend, Xena slowly sank to her knees, overwhelmed by the
sudden speed, ferocity and devastating accuracy of the attack. Callisto approached, launched a short
jab towards her chin, which the Thracian successfully countered, but then fell
prey to two more sharp kicks thudding into her pubic area.
In
response to a side kick impacting just below the rib cage, Xena slowly sagged on
her left side. The crowd rose in
anticipation, expecting the end of the fight was near with Xena gasping for air,
eyes fluttering shut, face wreathed in sweat and blood, legs splayed out, spent
arms struggling to hold her torso up off the ground.
Tossing
her glistening golden mane in triumph, Callisto approached her dazed, prostrate
foe. Tying up Xena’s right arm as
she struggled to rise, Callisto pressed her shoulder into the Warrior Princess’s
full chest and rammed her up against the arena wall. Xena’s chin lolled forward onto
Callisto’s upper back, her body desperately seeking respite.
Callisto
sneered at the Greek woman’s impotence and drove her smaller legs and body
forward to keep the Warrior Princess pinned and hurting against the wall. Suddenly pulling Xena back, she grasped
the Thracian woman’s head, wrapped it into her hip, and then ran forward with
both legs slamming Xena’s lower back and spine into the wall. Xena groaned, clinching lightly around
her foe, powerless to resist. Twice
more the blonde dominatrix rammed her trapped opponent into the wall, then
backed off and dragged her towards the arena center. Spinning to her left, she slammed the
larger body of the Greek warrior into the dirt.
Xena’s
tired legs pumped and stamped in protest as Callisto dropped to both knees and
drove one hand into the Greek woman’s darkened crotch, while the other fastened
on her right breast. The resultant
bloody furrows betrayed the strength of the German warrior’s fingers and
inherent danger of her razor sharp nails.
Callisto
abruptly switched to Xena’s stomach, the Warrior Princess’s abdominals spasming
as the blonde dominatrix sank fingers and nails deep into stomach muscles. Xena screamed, her hands grabbing vainly
at Callisto’s claw-like hold, thighs quivering. Callisto poured it on, her upper chest
hovering over Xena’s stomach as she bore down with all her
weight.
Releasing
the painful hold and pivoting between the splayed legs of her ravaged adversary,
Callisto came to both knees, grabbed the Thracian woman’s heavily muscled
thighs, pulled upward, and rocked forward, driving the raven-haired woman’s
shoulders into the dirt. Grasping
both Xena’s wrists, she pressed down with all her weight, barring teeth as if
going for the pronounced jugular in the Warrior Princess’s
neck.
But
then the animal-like snarl became a wicked smile as Callisto leaned further
forward until her face was almost adjacent to Xena’s, the latter wracked with
pain emanating from her tortured belly.
“Oh, my poor little Greek girl, does this hurt?” Callisto hissed as she
raked the Warrior Princess’s abdominals with her razor
nails.
Leaning
further forward, so that her lips were almost touching Xena’s, she sarcastically
laughed. “Are we having fun yet, my
love?”
Laying
flat on the arena floor Xena turned her head away, ignoring the taunting and
garnering sufficient strength to straighten her legs and throw the tormentress
off her body. Two attempts failed,
as Callisto sensed her ploy and responded by slashing her sharpened nails deep
into the backs of the Warrior Princess’s upper thighs, cutting into taut skin
and muscles already strained under the German woman’s
weight.
But
as Callisto rocked forward again, Xena turned towards her, quickly raising both
hands off the arena floor and sinking nails and fingers deep into the blonde’s
pert breasts. Even as the Teutonic
warrior tried to pull away, Xena raised her head and sank her teeth into the tip
of Callisto’s left breast, biting down hard on the tender
nipple.
Callisto
screamed in pain, “You bitch!” bringing both hands to her chest to tear loose
from the Greek woman’s grasp.
Quickly Xena released the tortured nipple and straightened her legs,
throwing the smaller woman into the dirt behind her.
Both
shining bodies glistening in the heat of combat scrambled to regain their
feet. But Xena stayed low and swung
a muscular right leg in a broad sweep that caught Callisto nearly erect and
swept her feet from beneath her.
Leaping on her momentarily dazed foe as she struck the ground, the
raven-haired woman drove a hard right hand into the blonde’s face. The resultant cry of anguish and fine
spray of blood and spittle indicated another broken nose.
Standing
upright, Xena raised her right foot to drive it down into Callisto’s
crotch. But while moaning in
protest, the blonde quickly grasped the Warrior Princess’s ankle, pulled it
forward, and teeth barred, sank her mouth into the Greek’s
instep.
Xena
screamed out in pain, vainly trying to pull her limb away from the blonde’s
grasp. But the Teutonic warrior was
desperate, and rose slowly, first to one knee, and then upright, still holding
Xena’s foot in her hands. Managing
a weak laugh through the blood and spittle, she suddenly heaved upwards and Xena
fell backwards, striking the ground on her neck and right
shoulder.
For
a moment both combatants were still, labored breath and heaving chests
testifying to the intensity of the struggle. Then with a demonic snarl, Callisto
leaped fully atop her opponent, clawing at vulnerable eyes, breasts and groin
with flashing nails.
Xena
covered her face, but feeling the blonde’s blows shift to her groin, she quickly
brought her knees up into her tormentress’s back and knocked her forward. A ringing side blow knocked Callisto off
and the Greek woman staggered to her feet and backed away from the blonde
regaining her’s.
The
two magnificent, glistening Amazons approached each other, sliding to one side
and then the other, always seeking advantage, arms at their sides, hands curled
into claws. Suddenly Xena feinted
left, and as Callisto responded, the Warrior Princess quickly twisted right,
ducked under the blonde’s outstretched arms, and drove two powerful fists low
into the German woman’s crotch.
A
strangled gasp accompanied a following blow to the stomach, and Xena slid
quickly up the thin body of her opponent, cinching her up tight in a bear
hold. Callisto’s arms grasped
vainly for firm purchase in the sweat-slick body of her opponent. As Xena tightened her grip, another moan
escaped the blonde’s bloody lips, and in seeming exhaustion she draped both arms
over Xena’s shoulders.
Her
feigned weariness was abruptly ended with a brutal head butt that momentarily
loosened the Greek woman’s hold, but quickly releasing the blonde, she leaped on
the smaller woman as her body fell to the dirt. Jerking her opponent’s lithe legs, Xena
quickly mounted her quarry, straddling her waist and raining blows on Callisto’s
face, chest and abdomen.
The
ring of spectators seemed to edge closer to the two fighters, eager to witness
the kill, for Xena’s superior weight and upper body strength were now
telling. Callisto’s increasingly
feeble efforts at protecting her face, breasts and groin were brushed aside as
the heavier Greek woman relentlessly punished one who had escaped her for so
long. Her own blood and sweat soon
mixed with dirt, rimming Callisto’s eyes.
Although the blonde blindly struck out, she repeatedly missed her
intended target as the Warrior Princess anticipated, and countered, every
move.
The
blonde’s firm chest and small breasts now labored up and down in spasmodic
rhythm, as Xena drove several harsh blows into her throat area, rigid fingers
extended. Almost defenseless,
Callisto’s arms lay listless at her sides.
Sensing her opponent’s approaching unconsciousness, Xena swung off her
quarry and to her feet. Before this
battle ended, she wanted Londinium, and all the Empire by word of mouth, to
witness something of the humiliation she had felt in the arena at
Reaching
down with both hands, she hauled the hapless victim to her feet. The thick muscularity of the Warrior
Princess’s glistening arms, legs, stomach and shoulders was now accentuated by
the lustful sensations of combat.
With full breasts erect, peaked hard with desire, and fire burning in her
eyes, she proceeded to methodically destroy her nemesis. A quick blow to the side of the head
spun Callisto around, and two low blows to the kidney area had the German
warrior against the arena wall, whimpering in moist, short breaths, tears from
pain ravaged eyes flowing down a sweat and dirt crusted
face.
Xena
grabbed an arm and viciously scissored it up behind the blonde’s back,
concurrently twisting hard on the wrist.
Callisto cried out loudly, rising on her toes in a vain attempt to
alleviate the pain. But her ploy was to no avail as Xena’s free arm clubbed down
hard on her collarbone.
Again
the German warrior was spun around, and avoiding flailing arms windmilling in
vain for a purchase in the Greek’s raven locks, the Warrior Princess cinched her
up in a breast-to-breast bear hold, raising the blonde off her feet and sinking
fists into her lower back. Callisto
tried to resist but feeble blows to Xena’s sides and head were too weak to be
effective.
Finally,
her spent arms again draped listlessly over Xena’s broad shoulders, head sinking
on full breasts pressed to her own.
She was nearly unconscious, her head lolling back and forth within the
valley of the Greek woman’s breasts.
Xena relaxed, then reset the hold, alternately freeing then crushing the
German warrior’s rib cage.
Suddenly
Xena released the bear hold, but as the benumbed blonde struggled to regain her
balance, the Greek woman grabbed her throat with her left hand, flexed her
massive thighs while reaching between her opponent’s legs with her right hand,
and pressed her body, first to shoulder height, then finally, arms fully
extended, over her head.
Patricians,
plebeians and legionnaires alike roared with admiration and decadent
delight. Now, this was
entertainment fit for
Responding
to the crowd’s cheers and adulation, Xena slowly pivoted full circle, displaying
the inert, ravaged body of her opponent for all to see. Then, uttering a final cry of victory in
her native Greek, Xena flexed her calve muscles and biceps and with a grunting
heave, threw the blonde body end-over-end, into the arena
dirt.
Callisto
hit like a slab of beef, the decimated, bruised flesh on her willowy thighs
quaking with the strength of the impact.
Her own weight crushed down on her upper back and neck, and she now
thrashed in agony, seeking relief from the searing pain rocketing through her
head and upper body.
Xena
bent down on one knee and grabbed dirty, sweat-sheathed blonde tresses,
wrenching Callisto’s head upward, fist clenched for the final blows that would
render her opponent unconscious…or dead.
One blow…and then another.
Through blood oozing from fresh forehead wounds, mixing with sweat and
dirt built up around nearly blinded eyes, Callisto looked mournfully at the
dominant Warrior Princess.
Voiceless
in final defeat and tearful agony, Callisto’s smashed, bloody lips mouthed
“Please…” as she slowly slipped away.
The
hammering blows paused…then the Greek, heart triumphing over head…carefully
lowered her defeated foe to the arena floor.
Slowing
rising to the raucous cheers of the crowd, arms raised high in triumphal salute,
she smiled. Once again she was
“Xena Warrior Princess, Champion of Rome.”
Shortly
after dawn on a bitterly cold morning, the timber gateway swung open to allow
mounted escort, a vexilatio of XX Legion Valeria and several
supply wagons to depart for Lympne.
As the rear guard’s last legionnaire cleared the gate’s threshold, the
bellowing screech of the Celtic carnyx sounded and Boudica launched her
attack. On foot, mounted on
horseback and riding in chariots, hundreds of Iceni warriors rushed at the Roman
fort from the surrounding wilderness.
Surging across the clearing, they quickly lapped around the wagons and accompanying train of cavalry and infantry and scampered for the open gates of the fort and its reduced garrison. As the Romans awkwardly sought to reverse direction and regain protection of the fort’s walls, the battle was quickly reduced to brutal hand-to-hand fighting: flying spears, thrusting swords, rearing horses, shouts and screams of both living and dying.
The
suddenness and ferocity of the attack gave the Roman decurio little
chance to reform his men into a disciplined formation. With the shock of the assault,
particularly from chariots driven between wagons and into formations, several
legionnaires were separated from the escorting party ranks. These were quickly surrounded and cut
down by horsemen wielding long spears or axe bearing attackers on foot. With both seeking to gain entrance to
the fort’s parade ground, attackers and defenders alike clambered over the dead
seeking their goal. The turf in
front of the fort soon was red with blood.
Within the fort itself, the reduced garrison, at arms since dawn for the stillborn departure of the supply train, quickly formed in front of the armory behind an impenetrable line of shields. On the fort’s ramparts above them, catapults and slingers sent bolts and stones flying into the mass of oncoming men and animals, Roman and Iceni alike, but there were too many.
As barbarian and Roman spilled into the fort, the garrison held firm as waves of charging warriors broke hard on the backs of their shields. Stemming the initial onslaught, on order they began moving forward, slowly and methodically hacking and thrusting, towards the gateway.
The
Iceni, now caught between the garrison and the returning legionnaires of the
vexilatio, sought to pull back in retreat and disorder, but a
blood-flecked Boudica, prominent amidst the swirling chaos of battle outside the
gate, rallied her people to renew the attack and burn the hated symbol of Empire
to the ground.
As
fire arrows from concealed Iceni archers fell on watchtower, storehouse and
hospital roofs, several warriors wielding torches, spears and axes regained the
fort’s parade ground. While some
were quickly surrounded and killed by soldiers or bludgeoned to death by camp
followers armed with picks and shovels, others scampered close to the inner
wall, and when clear of the garrison formation, ran toward the fort’s barracks
and armory, setting fire to the compound.
Xena,
donning her greatcoat over hastily strapped on armor, ran from the barracks, its
roof already afire, and moved quickly across the parade ground towards the gate
to assist the beleaguered garrison fighting for its life. She paused only long enough to see a
still-injured Callisto, painfully shuffling out of the burning hospital clad
only in a torn woolen camisole, fighting off two Iceni warriors with a
gladius and spear grabbed off a dead cavalryman at the adjoining stable
doorway.
Even
in her surprised, weakened state, with neither armor nor her own weapons, the
blonde warrior proved too much for her opponents. Xena smiled in silent admiration as both
fell mortally wounded at her feet.
“Regardless of how evil she was…regardless of whom she really owed her
allegiance…by the Gods, how this woman could fight!”
Xena
ran towards the main gate. Hearing a high-pitched, strangled cry, she turned
back, as an immense Iceni warrior having wrenched the spear from Callisto’s
grasp, drove it through her left side.
The blonde warrior’s mouth opened in shock and pain, but no sound left
her lips. Small hands grasped the
offending shaft in seeming disbelief and wonder, as lifeblood coursed from the
wound, down the German woman’s naked left flank and leg, gathering in a dark
pool beneath bare feet. A bloody
froth issued from mouth and nose as she sank to her knees, then pitched
forward.
“No!”
Xena screamed, and the deadly whisper of the chakram as it flew across the
distance separating her from the prostrate blonde was cut short by the gurgling
death throe of the Iceni warrior as the lethal blade buried itself in his
neck. As the Celt fell, Xena ran to
the corpse, quickly withdrew the weapon, then knelt at the forlorn body of
Callisto.
The
Thracian woman’s attention quickly returned to battle, however, as two Iceni
warriors confronted her. A low
spinning side kick and quick sword thrust dispatched one. With Xena seemingly off balance, the
other warrior lifted his battle-axe for the killing blow. But the Warrior Princess pulled back
with her right hand, thrust forward, and with a flick of the wrist the chakram
once again found its mark deep in her adversary’s naked chest.
As
Xena turned back towards Callisto, she removed her woolen greatcoat and settled
it over the blood soaked body of the near-naked German woman. “Goodbye, my love,” she murmured, and
then in response to the garrison commander’s summons for all to form at the gate
to assist in its closing, she hurried off.
The
decurio had finally formed the escort’s survivors and reversed
direction. The Iceni sensed they
would be caught between two Roman war machines, the relentlessly marching
vexilatio and the solid timber walls of the fort. Ignoring Boudica’s calls to continue
fighting, they began throwing down their weapons in disorder and
fleeing.
Raising her voice to join in a triumphal shout of victory as the gate slammed shut, Xena turned around…but camp followers were already searching for money, weapons and clothes amongst the dead and severely wounded.
She looked in vain for her greatcoat…and Callisto’s body. Both were gone!
The
scurrying of stevedore’s feet on the merchant’s main deck as mooring lines were
cast off from the Lympne pier momentarily broke her reverie. The surrounding wharf area slowly
receded as the square topsail filled with the morning sea breeze. Xena gazed over the broadening expanse
of water as the Boulogna-bound ship cleared Britannia’s
shore.
Thinking
back over the chaos of recent events, she sometimes doubted if some had ever
happened. The furtive trip through
Germania and Belgae, landfall in Britannia, Boudica’s captive, the battle
against Astrid, the Roman attack…and Callisto…always
Callisto.
Yes,
she was gone, but at times Xena wondered if her battle with the blonde warrior,
dead or alive, would ever really be finished. True, the Thracian woman had herself
felt the searing heat of the battle, saw the spear thrust deep into the blonde
warrior’s side, witnessed her prostrate, lifeless body lying in a pool of blood
as the battle inside the burning fort swirled around her.
Still…she
herself had said the One she belonged to was the Lord of
Fires…
A
westerly ocean breeze further filled out the sail. Men hurried to tighten the
boltropes, maneuvering the yardarm to take maximize advantage of the rising
wind. Lost in thought, the Warrior
Princess gazed languidly ashore as Britannia slowly receded from
view.
There
was little of note other than the normal early morning wharf traffic. But then suddenly, for a brief moment
along the shoreline at forest’s edge, there was a brilliant glow, as the early
morning sun reflected off a bright helmet and glittering edge of an upraised
sword.
And
then the person…or the apparition…was gone.
Xena
lingered topside, vainly searching the tree line, until increasing distance made
any discernment of people impossible.
Dismissing the phenomenon as but a momentary reflection off a
legionnaire’s armament, she left the ship’s rail and struck below to her small
transient cabin.
Crossing
the transom she noticed a neatly wrapped and sealed parcel lying on her
bunk. It had not been there when
she came aboard before dawn, buying passage across the
channel.
Curious,
the Thracian warrior broke the seal of the Legio XX Valeria and slowly
unspooled the muslin inner wrapping to find a small bronze casket inlaid with
silver and gold. Inside the casket
was an oblong box containing a short silver dagger adorned with a gilded boar’s
head. Accompanying it was a wooden
stylus tablet, tightly inscribed in carefully formed Greek letters of dark
vermilion. She angled it towards
the outside light.
“My
love. My plans are made. Waste not time in seeking me. I salute you…and bid you
farewell.”
Xena’s
right hand stole to her chakram…and then her inner thigh.
The vessel slowly rolled as the master set
a southeasterly course. The long
journey home had begun.
Once again she was Champion of
The echoing of my steps under these
immense vaults led me to
think I could hear the voices of those who
had built them. I felt, though
making me feel tiny, something which lifted my soul, and I said to myself: O! To be Roman!
Rousseau