“Call her now.” Cairn glared at Lascaux from underneath his hood.
Lascaux returned the baleful look. The coward had his crucifix to protect him. Without it, he’d already have been dead and he knew it. “Absolutely not.”
Cairn’s lips curled upward into an evil grin. “Very well.” He stepped over one of the chains shackling Lascaux’s legs and stood behind him. He pushed the gold crucifix he carried into Lascaux’s bare back.
Lascaux grimaced, biting back the searing pain as the object singed his skin. He screwed his eyes shut, straining against the iron shackles on his wrists and ankles that had him spread-eagled, suspended between the stone walls of the small chamber. The Soldiers had chained him and surrounded him with crucifixes in his own catacomb.
“Perhaps now you’ll change your mind.”
