The golden medallion's reflection sparkled in the depths of Guinevere's unblinking eyes. Meanwhile, Marius recited the incantation that the priestess of Ishtar had taught him in his youth. Twenty years or more had passed since that day, yet he spoke without faltering in a language that had been old when Rome was young.

Queen of Lions, hear your pleader;
Queen of stallions, lady of lovers;
Star of the Evening, naked in splendour
Queen of wild bulls, of luxury and langour
Daughter of sky and earth, wayward deceiver;
Your servant beseeches you to lend him your power,
Goddess of love and goddess of desire!


Guinevere could not understand the words of Marius's chant, but its effects acted upon her almost immediately. The pain in her wrist and her headache ebbed away, and her senses began to spin slightly, as though she had taken too much of her tribe's sweet berry wine. The adrenaline of fear and hatred coursing violently through her veins began to subside. She felt strange... strangely warm, her body beginning to tingle like when she would touch herself in the night, exploring the secret places of her body. Sex was taboo for the chosen warriors of her tribe, but sometimes Guinevere would picture the leanly muscular bodies of the young warriors in her mind, and let her imagination, and her fingers, wander...

No...no...!!!!! Guinevere shook her head in a daze. Some instinct deep within her warned her that what was happening to her was not right, this lazy languid warmth in her limbs, the crisp sensual tightening of her tawny nipples - she was a warrior, she could not, must not, give into those treacherous sensations that were drawing her in - no, it was dangerous - some evil magic was being cast upon her...

It would have been so easy to follow the tempting messages that were floating through her consciousness on gossamer wings - to drift away into warmth and pleasure. But there was a toughness within the Woad girl that surprised Marius. The incantation that the Roman was weaving was very ancient, having existed almost from the dawn of civilization. Its spell had bewitched queens and empresses, the daughters of kings and pharaohs. But Guinevere was a creature of the wild, her people had lived their way of life in the forests for uncounted ages. She would not so easily submit to the spell. Her hands tightened into fists and the wiry muscles of her neck and back stood out. Yet she could not close her eyes, or make herself look away from the medallion, and neither could she block out the words that she did not understand, but which were edging her ever closer into submission. Beads of sweat broke out on the sloped plane of her breastbone, the sleek tight muscles of her lower back, her flanks and the sides of her thighs.

Marius observed his captive's signs of defiance with interest. A strong one, he thought to himself. Let her fight! It would make her surrender all the sweeter! Marius could smell her scent, and feel the warmth that flooded her body as she struggled against the enchantment, and his lust soared.

Cast your golden arms around her, Ishtar!
Bring your lips to hers, Lady of Love;
Breathe your sweet breath upon her, Courtesan of the Gods.
Beguile her eyes with the flame of desire;
Command her limbs with tastes of sweet pleasure;
Capture her spirit with delight like nectar.
Let her burn with your glow, Eveningstar,
Take her into your power, Ishtar!