The Freeing of Spartacus

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For two long years the slave war had shook Rome to the very core. Although in its all conquering peak, the Roman army had been pushed to the very edge by this huge group of renegade gladiators and slaves. At their head was the Thracian gladiator Spartacus who, though born into slavery had never bowed a knee to his enemy.

Through thirty six years of slavery he had stood rebellious, ignoring the beatings and death threats which came his way. Even his masters had feared him, recognising an undefeatable spirit within a giant hearted man.

After his escape, and during the wars; the Roman Generals sent to defeat him were in awe of his incredible fortitude. Many soldiers died and one name was discussed at Senate more than any other; the name of Spartacus. It was felt he was not human, that he was some kind of re-incarnated God on earth. Much of the Senate were in favour of freeing him and his men, so Rome could limp back into some kind of normality. The wealthy, looked at their own slaves with a different slant. Men they had viewed as domesticated animals now became a concern. So many slaves had escaped to join the rebels that Rome was shaken to its very foundation.

Finally the might of The Roman legions brought the rebels to defeat. The Year was 71 BC and the heroic dissidents lay dead or in chains. The populous of Rome were cock-o-hoop, yet still there was an uncomfortable reality. For the status quo to return, Spartacus himself must be brought to his knees. He must be made to grovel, to abase himself, to accept the rule of his betters.

He was brought to Rome in chains, whipped like an animal and spat at by the throngs. However he remained indignant, defiant and proud. He carried his head high and stared down anyone who looked at him. His army was defeated, but in his heart Spartacus was not.

His captors gaoled him, they whipped him daily, tortured him, but still he refused to submit. After a month of this his name again topped the agenda at The Senate.

The Senate were split, those from a military background demanded he be executed immediately. Those from Patrician stock cried he must be broken and made to grovel.

‘Cut his throat, crucify him! Whatever it takes, just rid us of him!’ insisted Senator Agrilla.

‘No, no, no!’ implored Senator Perasuss, ‘kill him now and he will become a martyr, an icon to the servile races. Make him grovel, make him beg and plead for mercy. Kill him then if it pleases but first he must be brought to his knees!’

Agrilla again rose to his feet, ‘You have no idea what sort of man we are dealing with Senators! This is a man the like of which we have never encountered. No whip can break him, no threats can break him; he is unbreakable!’

The argument went on without resolve. The Senate agreed to meet again in a week’s time to vote on what should become of Spartacus.

That very evening Perasuss visited the object of discussion in his cell. Looking at him through the bars he looked like a defeated man. He slept on the floor covered in straw, a bowl of water beside him. Perasuss ordered him to be whipped. Guards entered his cell and chained his wrists to a sturdy beam.

The Senator stood with a goblet of wine as a guard laid into Spartacus with a heavy bullwhip. After forty strokes the victim began to grunt, but forty more and he still wouldn’t beg or plead.

Perasuss stood against the bars of the cell and spoke to Spartacus, ‘slave, surely you must want this torturous existence to end?’

Spartacus opened his eyes and grunted what sounded like an affirmative.

‘Well, all you have to do is kneel before me and declare Rome your better and I’ll let them slit your throat.’

Spartacus smiled through the pain. What sweet release it would be to die quickly. What a relief it would be to leave this mortal coil, no more pain, no more torture. Yet looking at the Senator he defiantly shook his head.

Perasuss threw the contents of his cup into the captive’s face in anger. He turned to compose himself as a slave nervously approached him and with head bowed low replenished his goblet with wine.

Again he turned to the whipped man. ‘Very well Spartacus. I shall give you one last offer. We shall give you gold and transport you to free Gaul. You shall have your freedom. All you have to do is kneel before The Senate and apologise for your insolence.’

Spartacus looked at the senator and could see he was telling the truth. Freedom, he thought to himself, what he had fought for, for two years, the very thing he had dreamt of for thirty eight years. He looked Perasuss square in the eye and tried to envisage himself kneeling before The Senate. He smiled and so did The Senator. Spartacus drew his breath and forcefully spat in the face of his captor.

Perasuss scurried away in revile. In his anger he ordered the death of the wine slave, for no other reason than he had borne witness to his ordeal. The slave was dragged into a cell and slayed. Perasuss stormed out of the holding gaol and into his awaiting litter. Eight docile slaves carefully carried him home.

11

That evening Perasuss entertained a few close friends at his luxurious villa. Fellow senator Grabius, nobleman Crassus, The Lady Helena and last but by no means least The Great Lady Julia.

As they ate a splendid supper, their host informed them of the day’s events; he did however omit to telling of the fact Spartacus had spat at him.

The group of aristocrats inevitably went on to discuss the ‘servile uprisings’. Lady Helena commented on how she had lost a dozen slaves, four of which now approached death on crosses along The Apian Way. She recalled how she had had her remaining slaves flogged into submission, but still didn’t feel as comfortable as she once had.

Grabius and Crassus confirmed they had both lost human property during the troubles. Crassus stated the wars had cost him some ten percent of his wealth which still left him obscenely rich. This he recounted as he fondled the breasts of the nubile Ethiopian slave girl who was serving wine. She did not understand the conversation taking place, but stood like a dumb animal until her superior had finished feeling her.

Finally the guest of honour, Julia, spoke up; ‘I didn’t really follow the troubles,’ she uttered. ‘I myself didn’t lose any property. The bandits came to my palace once but the slaves joined with my guards to fight them off.’

‘Didn’t one of your kitchen staff lose an arm Great Lady?’ enquired Grabius.

‘Yes indeed,’ she replied as a Syrian slave fed her a grape, ‘actually he fought so ardently I decided to give him his freedom. And yet he begged me not to let him go.’

‘So did you keep him Ma’am?’ asked Crassus.

‘I did, but a one armed dish washer is no good, so I had him sent to my plutonium mine.’

‘Let’s hope he doesn’t mind getting his hand dirty,’ joked Helena bringing laughter from the privileged guests.

Smiling sweetly; Julia spat the skin from her grape onto the floor. Immediately the Syrian stooped to lap up the waste before crawling from view. It was a common task for the slave but the thought of eating something which had just been in the most desirable mouth known to man caused him to tremble with pleasure.

‘It’s one of the mysteries of Rome,’ declared Perusass, ‘Your slaves seem to be so grateful to be such.’

‘Yes I know’ replied The Lady Julia allowing the Ethiopian to replenish her goblet ‘I hardly need to have them whipped.’

‘Yet you do Great Lady,’ interjected Crassus, ‘I’ve witnessed near orgies of floggings in Your palace.’

‘But of course,’ laughed the delectable blonde, ‘I’ll have a slave whipped for the slightest mistake, to improve it. And then of course I’ll have them flogged purely for the spectacle.’

‘Oh yes,’ smiled Helena, ‘I hear you enjoy the entertainment of a whipping.’

‘Certainly,’ asserted Julia, I love the way their faces contort, and their screams are most amusing.’

‘Forgive me Your Magnificence,’ suggested Grabius, ‘but I’m sure many a free man would take a leathering if they thought it would amuse one as fine as You!’

‘Mmm, and they have done.’

The assembled group of nobles smiled at the delicious look on the lady’s face and the certain knowledge that her words were true.

‘But,’ asked Crassus changing the subject, ‘what is to become of this wretch Spartacus?’

Perusass’s brow furrowed, ‘Oh I wish I knew. His three lieutenants are waiting execution; perhaps we should let him join them.’

‘No,’ insisted Helena, ‘I agree with you Perusass, he should be broken to a dog first.’

‘But how?’ asked their host, ‘the man is unbreakable! I’ve never seen such spirit in any man; let alone a slave!’

‘Give him to me!’ stated Julia in a voice which commanded to be obeyed.

‘But Great Lady,’ obsequed the senator, ‘I couldn’t risk anything happening to You.’

‘Arrange it!’ commanded the beauty, ‘arrange it by Saturday!’

‘If you insist Your Ladyship,’ replied her host, still a little worried.

The evening continued pleasantly. Perasass had a couple of slaves flogged for the amusement of his guests, before gifting the beaten Ethiopian to The Lady Julia as a token of his appreciation. Julia had the girl perform delectable cunnilingus on her during the litter ride home, before having her submitted to her kitchens.

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