The chariot hurtles into the cleared space in the settlement. A couple of the legionaires attempt to fling themselves aboard, one mistimes his leap and unable to grab hold bopunces off. The second manages to grasp the wicker side of the chariot next to you and begins to heave himself on board. His face is only inches from you, his expression leering as he stares. Flecks of spittle coat his chin as he gasps with the effort of attempting to haul his armour laden body over the flimsy body of the chariot. In fear and desperation you bunch your fist and drive it into the Roman's face. His head rocks back, but he refuses to let go. Twice more you punch the last blow eliciting an audible crack as the bridge of the Roman's nose breaks and he tumbles from the chariot.
The blonde girl thrusts the chariot reins at you and you clutch them instictively understanding how to handle the celtic chariot. Your sister, if that is indeed who she is in this simulation, braces herself and then nimbly runs along the chariot yoke between the sweating flanks of the pony. You'd read of this feat in history books, but seeing someone running along a moving beam only two inches thick is an impressive sight. The girl balances a moment at the tip of the beam between the two ponies heads and then as you near the legionaires manhandling queen Boudicca launches herself into the air.
"Stop those girls." You hear Quintus scream. "You Africanus, do something."
Despite her slim frame the Iceni girl has the momentum of the chariot to give her flying tackle impetus. She crashes into the back of one of the Roman's who holds Boudicca's arms and takes him down to the ground in a windmill of flailing limbs. Twisting her body as the two combatants hit the dirt she wrestles herself astride the legionaire and rains blows down into his stunned face.
A shape looms over you and you turn to see one of the horsed Roman officers has urged his mount forward and he's leaning forward from his horse attempting to wrest the reins from you. You snatch them away and flail out blindly with the javelin's butt to ward him off. The Roman grasps the weapon's shaft and you reverse your motion, pulling him towards you. Already overbalanced from reaching for the reins the Roman gives a cry and loses grip of his horse. With no stirrups to right himself the cavalryman slides off his saddle and crashes to the ground. The Roman's interference has cost you though, in the narrow confines of the settlement you're unable to turn the pony team in time and the chariot slews sideways into the mud walled side of one of the huts.
"Get her, get her." The Roman commander is screeching.
The impact knocks you off your feet and you tuck yourself into a ball as you fall from the back of the careening chariot. You roll as you hit the ground, preventing serious injury. Legionaries are rushing forward to both you and the blonde. The first man to you grabs the scruff of your shirt and clamps his hand over your face. You bite down on his hand, hearing him curse as you feel the taste of his blood in your mouth. Your hand scrabbling in the dirt for grip, hits something hard and your fist closes around a cobblestone. You hammer it down on the legionaires sandled foot, breaking his toes. In agony his grip loosens and the man hops back and falls over. You scramble up and look frantically around for an avenue of escape.
"Roman pigs, Priapus shrivel all your cocks." The screams come from your sister.
A legionaire has seized her by her long blonde hair and hauls her by brute force off his comrade. Her legs kick out wildly and her foot crunches into the groin of a closing legionaire, with eyes glazed and streaming tears the man collapses with a huffing outrush of breath. More Romans dive onto her, wrestling her writhing limbs into submission.
More Roman's are spreading out and encircling you, you manage to duck under one grasping fist and try to swerve through them. The thrust butt of a pilum goes between your ankles and you trip over, hitting the ground hard. Before you can recover several hands grab at your arms and shirt. Kicking and screaming you're lifted up, securely held in the meaty fists of three of the Roman legionaries. Still struggling wildly you're brought forward along with your sister and held in front of the legate Quintus for inspection.
"So two little wildcats, you must be Boudicca's spawn." Quintus sneers. "The punishment for attacking Roman soldiers whilst in performance of their duties is crucifixion."
Somewhere during the struggle your shirt has ripped open, one side hangs off your shoulder exposing a modest little breast that heaves and bounces as you gasp from the exertion of the fight. The dark red nipple is swollen with adrenaline quickened blood and stands out long and proud. Quintus's eye becomes fixed on the jaunty bouncing tit and rigid teat, he licks his thin lips and leers at both you and your sister.
"Let it not be said that Rome is without mercy though." Quintus announces grandly, without taking his eyes from your chest. "In cases mitigated by youth and a certain degree of provocation, enslavement could be seen as just reward for such an assault."
"Legatus!" The interruption comes from the officer you pulled from his horse. He limps forward eyeing you as he passes, surprisingly looking on you with some amusement rather than spite. He stands by the side of the legates horse and whispers urgently to Quintus.
"Crucifixion or slavery might well be unwise choices in this case Quintus Petillius." The officer states. "I remind you that we are two days march from either Durovigotum or Durobrivea. If Boudicca's whelps were either slain or taken it's most likely we'd have to fight every mile of the journey as these Iceni attempted to repay us in blood for their execution or in a bid to free them." |