Virgin Slave, Barbarian King. Louise Allen

shouting and shoving.

      ‘What do you mean? We may go there?’ She put her hand on his forearm and shook it when he did not immediately reply. Wulfric looked down at her, one corner of his mouth lifting, and she saw that the green eyes had lost their chill. Julia lifted her hand off his arm with elaborate care and stepped back, her heart thudding in response to the heat in that look. ‘No. No…you wouldn’t…’

      ‘Wouldn’t…’ He searched for a word. ‘Wouldn’t ravish you? I do not approve of ravishing women, as you saw just now. You need not fear that. Now, come.’

      Relief made her snap at him. ‘Come where? I want to go to the Basilica.’

      ‘But what you want is no longer important. Come with me. I told you we had come to take what is owing. And we need it to be portable. Grain, horses, gold, silver and slaves—we take all of those.’

      ‘But…you want me as a hostage?’ Incomprehension turned to cold fear. She had leapt from the skillet into the fire.

      ‘No.’ She had amused him again. It was perversely insulting. ‘We already have the best hostage after the emperor. We have his sister. We do not need any more; hostages are hard work. They need looking after.’

      ‘You have Galla Placidia?’ A gracious lady, one who lived closer to the people than her brother. She had stayed in Rome, not fled to the thick walls and high towers of Ravenna at the first hint of danger.

      ‘Yes. Now come.’

      ‘Where? Why?’

      Wulfric turned on his heel and studied her with the air of a tutor confronted by a dense pupil. ‘With me. You are now mine. I need a household slave. You will do very nicely.’

      ‘A slave? Me? You are jesting.’ There was no hint of teasing in the calm regard. ‘A…’ He meant it. ‘No!’ Julia took to her heels. Ahead the turmoil of the street, once so terrifying, now seemed to offer sanctuary. The breath tearing in her throat, she yanked up her skirts and ran. Only a few more yards, a few more steps.

      A blur passed her and then stopped in front in a scrabble of claws on stone. The wolf. Julia juddered to a halt. It wasn’t showing its teeth. ‘Good boy, there’s a nice wolf. Stay! Sit?’ It regarded her impassively then padded forwards. She spun on her heel. Wulfric hadn’t moved. If she could just make it to the door that stood ajar…

      Something hard and wet and hot closed gently round her right wrist. She looked down. The animal had her arm between its jaws. It was not biting, just holding with a pressure that would not crack an egg, yet which had all the potential to rip her flesh from her bones.

      Wulfric whistled loudly. There was a disturbance in the milling crowd and a horseman pushed his way through and into the side road, another horse on a leading rein behind him. No, not a man, a youth, she realised, sixteen at most. He had a leather jerkin over a linen shirt, no helm on his head, but a long dagger hung from his belt and he controlled the horses with ease.

      He spoke to Wulfric in a tongue she did not know.

      ‘Speak Latin, else how will you ever have it perfect? This is Julia, she comes with us. Take her up behind you.’

      The boy turned interested blue eyes on her. ‘The new slave? The one you said you would find to cook for us? That is good, I am tired of cooking, it is women’s work.’

      ‘I am not a slave, I am not going with you! I am a noblewoman!’

      ‘You do not appear to be in any position to argue.’ The infuriating man strolled towards her.

      ‘You mean you would let your wolf savage me if I try to escape?’ Julia enquired sarcastically. ‘I wouldn’t be much use as a slave then.’

      ‘True.’ He picked her up with startling suddenness and tossed her up behind the boy, whipping a leather thong out of his belt and lashing her hands to a ring in the youth’s broad belt. ‘Don’t forget she is there, Berig,’ he advised. ‘You do not want her landing on top of you when you dismount. Oh, no!’ He grabbed Julia who was trying to slide off the far side. ‘Berig is not very big yet, but he is heavy enough. I advise you to sit still.’

      He swung up onto the other horse, a rangy, ugly grey. ‘Now, we go and find ourselves some more gold.’

      With the wolf trotting at his heels, he forced his way out into the crowded street, the very sight of him sending terrified citizens diving into side alleys. The boy Berig followed. Julia slid, gasped and tightened her hands on to his belt in an effort not to fall off. Sooner or later they have to untie me. That wolf can’t be everywhere, sooner or later I can run…

      ‘Hwa namo thein? Er…What is your name? Are you a good cook?’ Berig tossed back over his shoulder as he steered his mount in his master’s wake.

      ‘Julia Livia. And, no, I am not,’ Julia snapped back. ‘I cannot cook. I do not need to cook. I have slaves to do that.’

      The boy gave a snort of amusement. ‘Then you had best learn fast, because you have no slaves now and my lord has a good appetite and no patience if kept hungry. This is good. Now we have you, I do not need to kill chickens, or cook anything, or fetch hot water, or wash clothes or even scrub my lord’s back. You can do all that.’

      Scrub his back? Julia stared furiously at the broad figure in front of them. Oh, I’ll scrub his back all right—with an axe in my hands!

      As though he felt her thoughts, Wulfric turned in the saddle and looked at her steadily. She felt her flimsy defiance shrivelling. This was real. He was a savage, uncaring, immovable force and she was in deadly serious trouble. For the first time in her life her position in society, her connections, her status meant nothing. All she had to fight this man with was her courage and her strength and she very much feared that they would count for nothing against those muscles and that cool green-eyed intelligence.

      Chapter Two

      Courage and strength, Julia mocked herself bitterly as she gripped Berig’s belt and fought for balance on the horse’s rump. And what opportunities do you ever have for exercising those, Julia Livia? Do you even possess them? When had she ever had to stand up for herself and use her own initiative?

      Shop here, wear this, go to this party, not to that one. Be friends with those girls, that one is unsuitable…Marry Antonius Justus Celsus. Yes, Father, yes, Mother. Whatever you say. He is boring and smug and he’ll have two chins in five years, but it is the right thing to do to marry him. So suitable.

      Being carried off as a slave by a golden giant with a wolf and a boy at his heels was not suitable. But how do you learn to fight if you have never had to before?

      ‘This one?’ Berig’s voice snapped her out of her whirling thoughts. They had halted in front of the plain high wall and closed doors of what she guessed must be a prosperous merchant’s house. ‘It looks a poor place.’

      ‘With these walls and those locks?’ Wulfric leaned over and hammered on the unyielding planks. ‘I don’t think they want to let us in. Why do you think that is?’ Julia smiled inwardly; her own home had doors and walls that were even better than these.

      Wulfric edged the ugly grey horse up to the wall, and stood up on its back with a smoothness that had her gaping. He reached high, grasped the top of the wall and hauled himself up, muscles bulging with effort. With a grunt he straddled the wall, then vanished.

      ‘You are thieves, all of you,’ Julia spat at Berig’s back, fury at her own reaction to that display of brute strength lending venom to her words.

      The boy shifted in the saddle and half turned. Focusing on him, she saw he had a snub nose, blonder hair than Wulfric, vivid blue eyes. ‘We keep our word, all of us. Your emperor is an oath-breaker.’ He put loathing into the words. ‘There is nothing worse. If you cannot trust a man’s word, what can you trust? He is less than a man, he is not fit to lead.’

      ‘It is politics. Honorius must do what is right for the state,’