When in Rome

The upcoming spring promised to be breathtaking. This Rome day was exceptionally clear and beautiful, placing everyone in the closed circle in a convivial mood. Outside the small café the Latin Professor, his young wife, and six students, three male, three female, all honors students from a progressive collage on the Eastern American seaboard, sipped their coffee and discussed recent events.

"I say it's bull! The commies couldn't achieve that!" stated a black-haired boy, the son of Italian immigrants to America.

"I've seen it myself. The newspapers print timetables for when it is visible," returned a red-haired boy with owlish glasses.

"Mass delusion!"

"Oh, Tony! You can never admit when you are wrong!" interjected a lovely blonde girl with sparkling blue eyes.

"It's not that I'm never wrong--I'm always right!" he returned with a grin.

"Anthony, Frederick," interrupted the graying professor, "I refuse to arbitrate this debate, but I suggest you wrap this up. It almost time for us to catch our bus to the Ancient Roman estate. Take your mind out of the Twentieth Century and place it in the time of Christ. Also, any more conversations not conducted in Latin will result in either a fine or additional grammar assignments depending upon how egregious the offence is."

"Etiam domine!" the boys barked in unison.

The professor smiled.

A few moments later the group was standing on the curb waiting to enter a small Renault bus. The line had broken down by sex. Professor Donald Harper stood first in line holding the passes and enough Lira to cover the fare to and from the estate. Behind him was his wife Michelle, a former graduate student of his. She was fair, petite, and grey-eyed. She was pretty in a non-threatening way. Michelle Harper (nee) Scott was speaking to Gloria Whitemarsh, tall, blonde, blue-eyed, and stunningly attractive. Passing cars full of Italian gentlemen slowed down so they could gape at the lovely American. Behind Gloria, Peggy Winslow, and Antionette Briggs were discussing fashion in Latin. Peggy was almost stout but carried the weight well. She had brown hair and a dusting of freckles across her nose. She was a bit nearsighted but was too vain for glasses. Antionette possessed ivory skin and ebony hair. Her mother was an Italian war bride, and she was her spitting image. The Italian lads in the passing cars mistook her for a local.

The line of college men was not so neat as the coed's line. Anthony Amalfi stood behind Antionette. He had given up trying to spark a romantic relationship with his fellow descendant of Italy. Antionette saw him as brash, pompous, and lacking in charm. She was not far wrong. Anthony was of late focusing his attentions on Gloria, but she seemed unobtainable when compared himself to the many WASPS and moneyed lads he shared the campus with. Lads such at Martin Steelton, the son of a rich industrialist. Captain of the varsity water polo team, all of life seemed to come easy for him. Anthony thought that Martin could have not only Gloria Whitemarsh but any woman he set his sights on. Their conversation lagged mostly because they had nothing in common. In the end they tested each other's Latin vocabulary. Taking up the rear was owlish Fred Hess, an academic scholarship owner with few friends. He was pawing through Milton comparing the poet's medieval Latin to the ancient version.

The fare and sundries sorted out; the octet boarded the bus which fought its way out of Rome traffic to the hills to the north of the city. The girls sang an Eddie Fisher song currently popular while the boys focused on the scenery. Michelle rested her head on her husband's chest. It was so good to be his wife, especially away from campus where the other wives, older, fatter, better connected, gossiped about her behind her back. They called her a gold digger and a host of other unpleasant adjectives. It was all so frustrating, and Donald really didn't have much money. Often, she felt like flinging their bankbook at the nosy biddies and exclaiming, "See! I married for love!" Not that it would make any difference. They would just focus on something else. The bus struggled up the hill.

Off the bus, the students and spouse made an arc about Professor Harper. Michelle looked at him lovingly. Teaching magnified his many wonderful qualities. In flawless Latin he explained what they would have seen in the first century.

"These ruins would have been a marvelous house. Slaves would have tended these fields."

He continued in this manner for quite some time painting an erudite picture with words so well said, the students could just about see it.

Fred, despite listening avidly caught something out of the corner of his eye. He elbowed Anthony in the ribs, pointed upwards and said, "Sputnik, Tony!"

Professor Harper looked miffed, but all eyes turned towards the almost invisible silver bead that bisected the sky. They heard thunder but there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The bead vanished from view. When all eyes turned towards the ruins again, they were no longer ruins! There stood an impressive concrete and marble domus. The fields were fully laden and men and women in rags were bent over harvesting the crop of beans.

"What in the world?" gasped Michelle.

An alarm was heard and several muscular men in rags armed with scythes surrounded the party of students and professor. Professor Harper began talking excitedly in panicked English before switching to ungrammatical, hasty Italian before circling back to excellent Latin.

"What are they saying professor. I'm afraid they are speaking to fast for me to follow," stated Fred.

"They want to know what we are doing trespassing on the master's land."

"The master?" said Gloria.

One of the circling menacing men made a beeline for the palatial residence.

"Yes, apparently he is being summoned now."

"What is this professor?" asked Martin in English, "A film set gone mad? I know gladiator films are in vogue now, but I think these chaps are overdoing it."

"I don't think they are actors," supplied Peggy.

"Whoever they are, I like the shirtless look," offered Gloria.

"Shut it, Miss Peroxide! We are in serious trouble!" cried Antionette.

"Jealousy does not become you, Antionette. It's probably just some misunderstanding."

"Take a good look around, Gloria. Where are the telephone poles? Where is that road cut through the landscape which was there a moment ago. It's a lot warmer than it was, the sun is in a different position in the sky and since the fields are ripe the seasons have changed."

"Time travel?" scoffed Fred.

"For lack of a better explanation."

"Oh, God!" sobbed Peggy.

"You folks are going about it the wrong way. Money talks!" Martin took half a step towards the armed men, as he did so, he took out his gold money clip which contained a healthy supply of American greenbacks and colorful Italian Lira.

The hostile men looked at him. The colorful paper made no apparent impression on them.

"Oh, come on blokes. I assure it is not counterfeit!"

One of the bruisers darted forward and punched Martin squarely in the solar plexus.

All the air went out of him, and he collapsed to the ground gasping for breath. Gloria fell to her knees to try and assist him. All she could do was hold his hand and wait for his muscles to stop spasming.

"Honey? What on earth is going on?" asked an increasingly frenzied Michelle.

"Calm down, princess, there must be a logical explanation."

"Antionette is right, those trees weren't there a moment ago. And what farmer would dress his field hands in rags? In the Twentieth Century?"

"You are overreacting, princess."

Anthony tried to lighten the mood by telling the surrounding grim faces a joke. This received smiles and nods from the still menacing men.

What did you say to them?" whispered Fred.

"A joke about a sailor and a whore."

"I don't remember that in our lessons."

"Lessons? I can translate you know, Einstein."

Martin had recovered enough to return to his feet. Gloria hugged him and kissed his cheek.

"Those guys are nasty!" he said in English.

An imposing figure in a toga arrived behind the bruiser who had departed for the large domus. Any remaining thoughts that the group of American College students had stumbled across some reenactment akin to Colonial Williamsburg evaporated in the way he carried himself and the way the ragged men deferred to him. Here was a man of unquestioned authority. Here was a man used to issuing commands and having them immediately obeyed. Professor Harper noted the purple trim on the man's toga. Only the highest ranking of Roman citizens was permitted that color.

"Honorable sir!" began the professor.

The master of the estate's eyes narrowed, and he made a gesture with his fingers. One of the scythes was suddenly at the professor's throat. The master asked for an explanation from one of the bruisers. Their Latin was unpolished and not quite grammatical as though it was a second language to them. Even so the professor could follow along. He said softly in English, "He says we just appeared, looking strange and behaving strangely. He's asking what's to be done with us."

The Roman citizen rubbed his chin. One by one he eyed the strangers. The women were all at least pleasant to look at. Their unconventional attire seemed designed to conceal yet simultaneously highlight their charms. His eye was immediately drawn to Michelle. The wife wore a blue dress with a floral motif that fell to just below the knee, white gloves, and a matching pillbox hat and white open toed shoes. To the master, her sandals were utterly ridiculous. Blonde Gloria was clad in fetching red. Peggy wore a grey skirt, white blouse, rust blazer, gloves, and a feathered chapeau. Antionette wore a navy dress the wonderfully offset her skin. She had a camera bag over one shoulder and a blue purse that matched her dress and shoes over the other. The little white gloves she wore added sparkle to her ensemble. The men seemed to be in a uniform of some kind, coats over close-fitting shirts with useless lengths of colored material about their necks. Their sandals were closed and bulky, like the wooden clogs of the tribes in Germania he had battled against in his youth. The big strapping boy would be useful in the fields or perhaps security. The black-haired lad was obviously of Italia birth. The slight lad with the partial mask might have head for numbers or shepherding. The older one, if he could translate, might be useful.

"They are clearly barbarians. I claim them as my property as is my right as a citizen of my rank. Process them. Retrieve me when They are ready for inspection."

Peggy gasped loudly, "Did he just say we were his property?"

"Surely, he can't be serious!" exclaimed Gloria.

"Unless all of this is a nightmare, we have somehow traveled back to classic Rome," stated Antionette.

"You have to be wrong!" exclaimed Anthony.

"When have you ever been right, Jerk?" she sassed back.

The men with the scythes formed an even tighter circle around the students. Two archers and three men armed with swords who identified themselves as, "boss," herded the eight strangers towards a large outbuilding. Martin, taller than most of the men herding them studied possible angles of escape. One on one, he liked his odds with either the men in rags or more formidable and clearly well-fed and armed overseers. He felt he could elude the archers and outrun the men with swords, but that would mean leaving the others behind and they might need his protection now, especially the girls or the pretty Mrs. Harper.

The building smelled of horses, urine, and hot iron. A huge man under an opening in the roof tended to an iron forge. The door closed behind them. The command came clear and loud. It barely needed to be translated. "STRIP!"

"What? Cried Peggy and Michelle as one.

The stunned Americans made no move to obey. One of the large men with a sword forced Fred's arms behind his back with one hand while the other pressed the sword against his throat.

"STRIP!" he barked a second time.

The implication was clear. Obey or die. Michelle looked at her husband with tears in her eyes. She bit her lip and turned her back towards her husband. He tugged down her dress's zipper. It suddenly occurred to him that this might be his last act as her husband. His eyes teared up as he spied the alabaster gap of skin as the dress parted. Michelle sobbed loudly as she pulled her arms out of the dress. Surely, the universe had gone mad!

The circle of armed male eyes boggled as the women's underwear came into view. The girls being modern wore at most half-slips. The brassieres caused some of the male audience to shake their heads and rub their eyes. Neither the native-born overseers, or the enslaved field hands had ever encountered anything akin to them, and some of the overseers had been soldiers in distant parts of the empire. One the slips were dispensed with the first male view of nylon stockings and garters or hooked directly to foundation garments had an instant arousing effect. Clearly, none of them had ever been taken captive before, their shy, weeping undressing was so much more satisfying and arousing than a simple quick strip off would have been. So often, the newly enslaved just stripped and waited patiently to be inspected. Obviously, this crowd was the purest most untainted of barbarian stock.

Martin, used to the gym, was the most comfortable stripping off in public, but the presence of the women gave him pause. He cast off his suit jacket, tie, and shirt. His prominent muscles were highly appreciated by the overseers, used to judging and assessing flesh. He would be profoundly useful around the estate. He might even make a good stud for their slave breeding program. The black-haired youth was very average in their eyes. He could be expected to do a great deal of hard work. The lad in the half mask, now bare-chested had a sizable divot in his pigeon chest. Perhaps he had a useful mind. If not, his boyish frame would warm a bed nicely. The master was always on the lookout for fresh talent. The older one, if he had a talent for words or numbers, might be useful, but their first inclination was that he would best be sold quickly for whatever little he would bring in.

Time and again the eyes of the overseers and slave returned to the women. was on the women. All of them would have to cured of their shyness. Enough public display while nude would solve that issue. The tall blonde barbarian was of most interest, The contraption hiding her abundant breasts was clearly an abomination. She had fine legs, a wasp waist and a flat stomach. She could bear an entire passel of slave infants. The dark-haired one could be placed in the home as aid to the ladies. The shorter, slightly stouter one could be sent to the kitchen or the weavers. The slightly older one was just the master's type, fresh-faced, foreign, and petite. The master was certain to try all of them in turn of course. He liked variety and submissiveness. He loved to exploit and revel in his power.

It was noted how the petite one interacted with the older male. He was a real puzzle. He had no bulk or magnetism that they could see, yet he clearly had the fair one's devotion. Perhaps he was hung like an ass. They would soon find out.

Martin was the first to get naked. He stood with his hands on his hips and looked defiantly at the overseers and others. They admired that quality about him. His equipment was more than adequate. Despite the horror of the situation, Gloria found herself staring at her classmate. He was even more handsome unclothed than he was in all his fine fashions. Anthony was not long behind. His physique was sturdy. The overseers saw, field hand, teamster, mercenary. The thin lad revealed just average equipment. The assessors still only him as bed warming material. The women put off nudity as long as they could, only hurrying to reveal themselves when the overseers became visibly angry. The petite fair one was marvelously put together, small and adorable in every aspect. The black-haired one was quite stimulating in the altogether. The intimate possibilities with her appeared endless. The blonde was quite valuable and would assess for a high price. If the master didn't keep him himself, she would bring a high price to a breeder. The stouter one was attractive enough for any turn between the sheets. If she had domestic skills, she would be a welcome asset on the estate. The Master preferred quality. The other three were quality. Even so, after he had tested her, unless she was exceptional in bed, he would most likely put her to use giving the farmhands relief. They were grateful to have anything they got and in the dark; who cares?

Last to shuck their clothes was the professor. The surrounding men laughed. His power over the fair, petite one did not come from his loins. Even the shallow, pigeon chested lad owned more manhood. Perhaps he could teach or tend to the night fires. He seemed ill suited to anything else.

The cast-off clothing was policed up by some of the slaves. Since it seemed to have no practical value, and since they would not be permitted to keep it, every article was cast into the farrier's forge, sending up a cloud of foul-smelling smoke. The girl's cries of despair as the flames consumed their only link to the world they knew, was acute. The men were just as distraught at the loss of their passports and wallets which were still in the pockets of their burning clothes. The only thing the Romans seemed interested in were the women's purses and handbags. In every age demand for a good quality bag is universal. The contents were pawed through, what the Romans recognized they kept, combs, cosmetics, and pins. These and the bags would go to the oversees' wives or whores. The rest of the contents joined the burning clothing. There were the final, inevitable indignities. Everyone was forced to cede their jewelry. The watches were looked at curiously. They resembled small sundials, but if that is what they were, they were useless for telling time. Why would one need two indicators and a third rushing around to tell the hour? That they were made of gold and silver was an unmissed fact. The watches and Martin's gold money clip were handed over to the farrier to be melted down and then added to the master's storehouse. Michelle burst into tears as she twisted off her wedding band and engagement ring. These would be gifted to the master who would pass them on either to his wife or favored guests. The other girls wore mostly costume jewelry, but Antionette had a string of real pearls and Martin was quite miffed at surrendering not only the money clip, but also his grandfather's signet ring.

Martin was particularly enraged at the spectacle of each woman being held fast in turn in while an overseer probed their sex and anus. Women were known to hide valuables there. Martin tore himself away from the others and rushed to defend Mrs. Harper. He was beaten and clubbed by the broad edge of swords. Finally, a blade was held to his testicles. Obedience or castration. There was a limit to the athlete's bravery. Michelle thanked him in English for his valiant but futile effort. She had always liked that lad who sometimes had trouble meeting her gaze.

Though no gems or coins were discovered it was learned that the stouter, brown-haired one was still a virgin. A very nice, serendipitous discovery. After this supreme violation, all the women were weeping profoundly. Why had fate dealt them this hand? Fred was whining that without his glasses he could see nothing. The overseers were not moved in the least. The nattily attired octet of confident and proudly free Americans had, in less than a half hour, been reduced to naked, frightened, stateless slaves. This fact was shattering to all of them.