Mark Of The Lion

by Francine Rivers

The guard of the lower dungeon threw the bolt and led the way. The sound of the Roman's hobnailed sandals sent Atretes back to Capua. As he folowed the guard, the smel of cold stone and human fear made the sweat break out on his skin. Someone cried out from behind a locked door. Others moaned in despair. Then, as they kept walking, Atretes heard something coming from the far end of the dank environs-a sound so sweet that it drew him. Somewhere in the darkness a woman was singing.