The hours crept by, and Tara spent them watching the dust motes dance in the thin slivers of sunlight falling down through the cracks in the roof. Aquila didn’t attempt any more conversation, and Tara was so locked inside her fear that she almost fell from her chair when Aquila startled her with standing up. He then went down onto one knee to unlock her chain. Then he handed her a cup, filled with a liquid smelling pleasantly of herbs. Thirstily, Tara drained it.

“It is time”, he said.
Tara slowly got up, but her legs seemed to refuse to carry her. Aquila took her arm and half supported, half dragged her out of the little hut.

After being locked inside for so long a time the sunlight outside hurt her eyes, but she blinked furiously at the sun hanging low in the sky. She could see from where she stood, at the upper edge of the camp, the sandy valley and the band of tarmac over which they had brought her here, but between her and the road that led back home lay an entire Legion camp, twice the size of that on Fortification Hill behind Hoover Dam.

Eyes were staring up at her, hundreds of eyes, rows and rows of Legionnaires, their officers and, off to the side, even their slaves. A group of women clad in white and crowned with leaves walked up to her now and, while chanting in Latin, dribbled some kind of oil onto her hands and rubbed it onto her face.

And all of a sudden, the men let out a mighty roar of exaltation, and she knew without a doubt that Tiberius had come into sight. While the warriors now chanted Tiberius’ name, the priestesses bar one withdrew, and Tara felt a strange heaviness, a feeling of utter finality, settling in her soul. There was no escape, no help, no hope. Nothing and no one could save her.

Tiberius took her hand, and she did not resist. Dimly she wondered if the herbal concoction Aquila had given her had been some kind of drug, but even if that was the case, what difference would it make?

The priestess stepped in front of them and began to chant again, nothing Tara could understand. Tiberius face and hands were also blessed with the sacred oil, and then she took both their hands, draped a red band of cloth around it and sprinkled it with the same oil again. Another chant, and another cheer from the Legionnaires watching them. To Tara it sounded as if she was underwater. She had to be drugged.

Beside her, Tiberius lifted both his hands and the crowd fell silent.
“Men!” He roared. “With this day, we will finally get what has been denied to us for too long! Yes, there will be war! And yes, blood will flow! But here and now, with the Queen of Vegas now the wife of the Caesar, the Mojave will finally be ours, and there will be no limits to the Legion’s power. All lands shall tremble under the hooves of the Bull!!”

The men roared again, three times as loud and wild. Tara felt Tiberius take her hand again, and with a tug, he led her further up the rise, and into his tent. When the tent flap fell down behind them, Tiberius let go of her hand and nodded. “That went incredibly well, don’t you think, my little bird?”
Tara didn’t reply, and Tiberius slapped her.
“Don’t you think, my little bird?”, he asked again, sharper this time.
“For you, yes”, Tara replied, and Tiberius chuckled. Her voice sounded slurred to her, unclear as if she was drunk.

He then went over to a small table where he took a cup. “Here”, he said. “Drink this.”
Tara shook her head. “I am still feeling the effects of the draught Aquila gave me.”
“Of course you do. And now you will drink this, it is the antidote.”
It took Tara a little while to understand. “Poison?”
“Just a measure of safety.” Tiberius smiled at her. “To make sure you wouldn’t try something stupid last minute.”
“And if I don’t drink it?”
“Then you will die a slow, unpleasant death. But you don’t want that, do you?”