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Serva's Roman Fantasy
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geolier
Tribune
What is that?
What is what?
geolier
Tribune
IMO
In My Opinion.
Serva
Executioner
I have new thoughts, fresh thoughts, or are they memories from a past life, unearthed? I do not know, but these images now swirl in my head, accosting me, and they won't leave me be.
My name is Artemisa, and I have a brother, Kallias, a fair-faced young man who, like myself, is on the cusp of marriage, though I am older. I had not met my bethroted, but my father told me much about him. He was older than me, a man of many virtues and admirable qualities, a one-time trirreme captain who nonetheless preferred the quiet of his estate in Boeotia over the sea. He was very wealthy. I was to be the kyria of a large and beautiful house, and I would have many lovely and excellent children for him. It was my destiny, and I dreamt of it.
Three days before my wedding the head of the first legion appears before Athen's walls, at morning. My father comes running into the house and shuts the door. I see him pale faced and his voice drips with fear as he commands the slaves to pack things. He shouts at them when they hesitate, confused. He raises his hand but does not strike as they run away like mice to obey. I rarely see him strike our slaves. He grabs my mother and whispers to her. I approach them timidly.
"Father?" I ask him "what is wrong?"
He grabs my hands in his and kisses them, and tells me to gather all my jewels into small bags, and anything of value that I can carry on my person. My heart hammers in my chest. Dread spreads over me, like a physical malady, like something cold spilled inside me. He doesn't tell me anything.
It is my mother who does; she meets me in the gynaikeion, the women's quarters of the house, as I am stuffing my pearls in a purse. She tells me the Romans have come, grabbing me by the shoulders. Her eyes are moist, and my moisten too. I cry, but she doesn't. She helps me, and the slaves, gather our coins and jewels. I know this is bad, and I am scared, and yet I know not what lies in store. I cannot imagine it.
When are ready we head for the Acropolis. My brother is outside the house, with my father and a train of slaves. I see Lysias, the former farm slave he freed and then employed, with a sword at his hip. My brother and my father have long daggers.
Father says escape through the Piraeus is not an option.
The port of Piraeus is connected to Athens by a walled road, but the waters are blockaded by Roman ships. This is not the Athens that fought the Persians, nor the Athens Pericles built. Our time is long gone, and our city is but a smoldering ember of the light which once consumed the Aegean. After the Macedonians came the Romans, and spread their power over Greece. They are the titan looming over us. We are a mouse in the sight of the eagle. I don't know much about the world, but there is something everyone in the Mediterranean knows: Rome owns it.
And they have been insulted by Athens. The Roman consul Sulla is possessed by a mad desire to destroy us. The knowledge of our past glory only makes him want to defile it.
By then the city is surrounded and the sound of the gates being rammed thuds, thuds, thuds as we run for the Acropolis. The city is in chaos. Many are heading there, but I know only a few of us will be allowed in. I know my father has wealth and status. A glimmer of hope lightens my mood. I know we will be safe.
But when we get there and make our way through the press of bodies... our slaves are not allowed in with us. Neither my father nor mother seem surprised; but Kallias and I are. We look at our attendants, whom we've known most of our lives. We have six slaves with us there.
"Please," I ask my father "if we pay, can they come?"
He snatches my purse of jewels out of my hands and hides it under his cloak. He looks at me with anger, and I fold. I do not look again at my slaves, as we are allowed in only with Lysias following us. I cannot look back at them. I ask my mother what will happen to them, and all she says is "they are slaves."
I do not sleep that night, because the Romans breach the city walls by dusk. The smell of smoke fills my nostrils. I cannot see anything because of the walls of the Acropolis... but I hear screams. We sleep at the steps of the Parthenon, wrapped in our wool cloaks, my mother snug against me.
Morning comes and there is a murmur going around. Something is happening, but I do not know what. I do not see my father, nor Lysias. My mother sits on her cloak, with Kallias, and I ask her what is the matter. Smoke still rises over the walls.
She says the surrender of the Acropolis is being negotiated.
"That is a good thing Mother, is it not?" I ask her, siting next to her. She holds me close. "They will want us to pay and give up the city, but we will be safe, won't we Mother?"
Before she says anything I hear wailing from elsewhere inside the citadel. I look around... and I scream.
People are killing themselves. I see a man cut the throats of his family and turn the blade on himself. I hear thuds and the falling of blades to the floor. I see blood flowing on the Parthenon's steps. What is happening? I clutch my mother so hard my fingers dig into her flesh. She bolts to her feet and grabs my brother and me...
Then I see my father. I cry out to him. My brother tries to run toward him but my mother clings to him from behind and holds him back. Then I see the knife in my father's hands. His eyes are lost, glazed over as he approaches us. No. He cannot want to kill us, no. Why? Then suddenly I realize. He would rather kill us than see us be slaves.
My mother takes the dagger from Kallias's belt and stands before us. She screams bloody murder at my father and lunges with the blade. He is in a shock, he steps back, stammering. My mother's sudden ferocity surprises me. My father runs away... and my brother after him, calling out. I follow him, holding up the hem of my peplos. I hear my mother following too, but when I catch up with Kallias, she has been lost in the crowd. For not all have been killing themselves... I see most choose to live, as slaves. What my mother chose for us when she brandished the dagger against my father.
I find Kallias behind one of the lesser shrines. By this point I hear the massive hinges of the gates opening. The Romans are coming. I will later learn that the deal was surrender for our lives, with no other guarantees. The price for our lives...
Kallias has a knife he picked up from a dead body. He is holding the tip at his belly with shaking hands, sobbing, his face red, the cords on his neck tense as he struggles with his fate.
Please do not judge my weakness... but I wanted to live, and I wanted him to live. This could not be how my life ended. I had to keep living!
I grabbed the knife, gently.
"Please," I said "we will be alright brother, please. Please do not do this. As long as we live we have hope."
"Do you not understand Artemisa? We will be slaves!"
The word slithered out of him, like an oily, dirty, shameful thing. Slaves.
"Don't you know what they will do with you?" he asked me "you are too beautiful Artemisa."
My stomach churned.
Before we knew it, we were surrounded by legionaries.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Special thanks to KageKanem, whose input and questions helped shape and define this scene and some subsequent scenes. I apologize for going back to my early experience as opposed to continuing the chronology and describing the events of my first day in my owner's villa. I will get to that! But I wanted to flesh out the set up a little bit more. Plus I believe this will answer some of the questions posted on this thread.
My name is Artemisa, and I have a brother, Kallias, a fair-faced young man who, like myself, is on the cusp of marriage, though I am older. I had not met my bethroted, but my father told me much about him. He was older than me, a man of many virtues and admirable qualities, a one-time trirreme captain who nonetheless preferred the quiet of his estate in Boeotia over the sea. He was very wealthy. I was to be the kyria of a large and beautiful house, and I would have many lovely and excellent children for him. It was my destiny, and I dreamt of it.
Three days before my wedding the head of the first legion appears before Athen's walls, at morning. My father comes running into the house and shuts the door. I see him pale faced and his voice drips with fear as he commands the slaves to pack things. He shouts at them when they hesitate, confused. He raises his hand but does not strike as they run away like mice to obey. I rarely see him strike our slaves. He grabs my mother and whispers to her. I approach them timidly.
"Father?" I ask him "what is wrong?"
He grabs my hands in his and kisses them, and tells me to gather all my jewels into small bags, and anything of value that I can carry on my person. My heart hammers in my chest. Dread spreads over me, like a physical malady, like something cold spilled inside me. He doesn't tell me anything.
It is my mother who does; she meets me in the gynaikeion, the women's quarters of the house, as I am stuffing my pearls in a purse. She tells me the Romans have come, grabbing me by the shoulders. Her eyes are moist, and my moisten too. I cry, but she doesn't. She helps me, and the slaves, gather our coins and jewels. I know this is bad, and I am scared, and yet I know not what lies in store. I cannot imagine it.
When are ready we head for the Acropolis. My brother is outside the house, with my father and a train of slaves. I see Lysias, the former farm slave he freed and then employed, with a sword at his hip. My brother and my father have long daggers.
Father says escape through the Piraeus is not an option.
The port of Piraeus is connected to Athens by a walled road, but the waters are blockaded by Roman ships. This is not the Athens that fought the Persians, nor the Athens Pericles built. Our time is long gone, and our city is but a smoldering ember of the light which once consumed the Aegean. After the Macedonians came the Romans, and spread their power over Greece. They are the titan looming over us. We are a mouse in the sight of the eagle. I don't know much about the world, but there is something everyone in the Mediterranean knows: Rome owns it.
And they have been insulted by Athens. The Roman consul Sulla is possessed by a mad desire to destroy us. The knowledge of our past glory only makes him want to defile it.
By then the city is surrounded and the sound of the gates being rammed thuds, thuds, thuds as we run for the Acropolis. The city is in chaos. Many are heading there, but I know only a few of us will be allowed in. I know my father has wealth and status. A glimmer of hope lightens my mood. I know we will be safe.
But when we get there and make our way through the press of bodies... our slaves are not allowed in with us. Neither my father nor mother seem surprised; but Kallias and I are. We look at our attendants, whom we've known most of our lives. We have six slaves with us there.
"Please," I ask my father "if we pay, can they come?"
He snatches my purse of jewels out of my hands and hides it under his cloak. He looks at me with anger, and I fold. I do not look again at my slaves, as we are allowed in only with Lysias following us. I cannot look back at them. I ask my mother what will happen to them, and all she says is "they are slaves."
I do not sleep that night, because the Romans breach the city walls by dusk. The smell of smoke fills my nostrils. I cannot see anything because of the walls of the Acropolis... but I hear screams. We sleep at the steps of the Parthenon, wrapped in our wool cloaks, my mother snug against me.
Morning comes and there is a murmur going around. Something is happening, but I do not know what. I do not see my father, nor Lysias. My mother sits on her cloak, with Kallias, and I ask her what is the matter. Smoke still rises over the walls.
She says the surrender of the Acropolis is being negotiated.
"That is a good thing Mother, is it not?" I ask her, siting next to her. She holds me close. "They will want us to pay and give up the city, but we will be safe, won't we Mother?"
Before she says anything I hear wailing from elsewhere inside the citadel. I look around... and I scream.
People are killing themselves. I see a man cut the throats of his family and turn the blade on himself. I hear thuds and the falling of blades to the floor. I see blood flowing on the Parthenon's steps. What is happening? I clutch my mother so hard my fingers dig into her flesh. She bolts to her feet and grabs my brother and me...
Then I see my father. I cry out to him. My brother tries to run toward him but my mother clings to him from behind and holds him back. Then I see the knife in my father's hands. His eyes are lost, glazed over as he approaches us. No. He cannot want to kill us, no. Why? Then suddenly I realize. He would rather kill us than see us be slaves.
My mother takes the dagger from Kallias's belt and stands before us. She screams bloody murder at my father and lunges with the blade. He is in a shock, he steps back, stammering. My mother's sudden ferocity surprises me. My father runs away... and my brother after him, calling out. I follow him, holding up the hem of my peplos. I hear my mother following too, but when I catch up with Kallias, she has been lost in the crowd. For not all have been killing themselves... I see most choose to live, as slaves. What my mother chose for us when she brandished the dagger against my father.
I find Kallias behind one of the lesser shrines. By this point I hear the massive hinges of the gates opening. The Romans are coming. I will later learn that the deal was surrender for our lives, with no other guarantees. The price for our lives...
Kallias has a knife he picked up from a dead body. He is holding the tip at his belly with shaking hands, sobbing, his face red, the cords on his neck tense as he struggles with his fate.
Please do not judge my weakness... but I wanted to live, and I wanted him to live. This could not be how my life ended. I had to keep living!
I grabbed the knife, gently.
"Please," I said "we will be alright brother, please. Please do not do this. As long as we live we have hope."
"Do you not understand Artemisa? We will be slaves!"
The word slithered out of him, like an oily, dirty, shameful thing. Slaves.
"Don't you know what they will do with you?" he asked me "you are too beautiful Artemisa."
My stomach churned.
Before we knew it, we were surrounded by legionaries.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Special thanks to KageKanem, whose input and questions helped shape and define this scene and some subsequent scenes. I apologize for going back to my early experience as opposed to continuing the chronology and describing the events of my first day in my owner's villa. I will get to that! But I wanted to flesh out the set up a little bit more. Plus I believe this will answer some of the questions posted on this thread.
Jackie1111
Tribune
You write so well! A wonderfully told start of your downfall.
And that's where it first sinks in, I suppose. That you will quite possibly end up a sex slave to some powerful Roman. Heck, for all you know you might be gang-raped by legionaries before the morning is done. No wonder your stomach is churning.
And that's where it first sinks in, I suppose. That you will quite possibly end up a sex slave to some powerful Roman. Heck, for all you know you might be gang-raped by legionaries before the morning is done. No wonder your stomach is churning.
Quiet Paul
Tribune
Brilliant. What a wonderful story....which will surely end horribly
Serva
Executioner
Thank you Jackie!
There is a mental process that goes on in my head... it is unconscious and almost instant. It is like gears falling into place on their own. What I realize in the blink of an eye is that... I am beautiful, and I will be a slave, and beautiful slaves... there is a destiny they cannot escape. I know I will be expensive... and why. Suddenly I feel nauseous; it is like staring at the bottom of an abyss, knowing I will fall in, that I am already falling.
Quiet Paul
Tribune
You are right,Serva. You are already falling fast, into depths of degradation and pain that you barely imagine. Yes, you are a slave. But you seem to be a slave with strength and with fight in you. It can only end for you horribly, painfully, slowly.
Serva
Executioner
I would think everything I've written so far points to me being a weakling with no backbone.
Quiet Paul
Tribune
Obedient and submissive, certainly. Frightened out of your wits? Yes. But strong too. Deep down you,know what is going to happen. But if you were a weakling you would give up now.....
TheLimey
Magistrate
Truly excellent, Serva!
An interesting take on events, even after helping plan it - some events have vanished, some changed and some emerged on this way from draft to completion. This version certainly conveys a strong sense of desperation and fear, which I believe was the point.
Almost enough to make you wish you had been a bit more sheltered, isn't it? Although even that wouldn't shield you for long.
One's estimation of oneself is rarely the most accurate - fools think themselves wise, the wicked think themselves good, and the strong often think themselves weak. Especially when their's is a "woman's strength", so to speak, of enduring, rather than a "man's strength" to fight with.
Aedile
Magistrate
How lucky you were to escape the fate of so many other women and girls of Athens, slave or free. To not feel the hot breath of a frenzied legionary on your neck as he pins you to the ground, face down. The stabbing pain as he drives himself into you over and over as you. Or worse, to be on your back and able to see the laughing face of the young man from a distant city who is taking you, your legs high in the air like a slave whore. To not have to look over and see your mother with a Roman also humping between her legs. They don’t care about the status or beauty of the women they are fucking. This is primal dominance.
How lucky you were to avoid the fate of those women! The ones who were carried off to slavery with the seed of random Romans seeping from their cunts. And the ones whose captors failed to see their value and opened their bellies or throats once the wave of pleasure passed. I’m sure you saw those most unlucky of women, though. Lying in the streets, naked with their legs splayed open or asses pointed to the sky.
You should be grateful for such an easy transition to slavery!
Perhaps she should, but I doubt she will be in the mood. (I'm sure those images will haunt her, though, whenever she thinks of her personal slave girl who was almost like a sister to her, and tries to convince herself that she still lives much the same life in the service of some kind Roman girl.)
TheLimey
Magistrate
In moments of darkness though, does she wonder if her personal slave is going through that same hell that she herself is...?
I am kind of trying to imply there that in her moments of darkness, she thinks a lot worse.
Serva
Executioner
Their gladii are wet with blood. I lose count after five... only the Fates know how many swords they are in that moment, ringing Kallias and me. They flip it from right to left hand, they pivot it in their grip, or else they hold it casually at the side as they look at us. The abyss stretches below me.
I look at them without thinking, as if to plead with my eyes. The closest one blurts in broken Greek:
"Look down slaves."
Something breaks inside me, and I feel the exact moment when I surrender. I know they can see it, how my body droops down with my gaze, and my brother next to me sinks too. He whimpers and drops the knife. He looks at me, but he is paralyzed. His feet are bolted to the ground, as are mine. I look at their sandals, their hairy legs under the red tunics.
The word slave is a sting on my face, like a blow. It spreads over my cheeks, tingling, though I have not been touched. I feel short of breath. I know I have to fight, that I cannot be a slave, not a slave. My eyes moisten and I cry.
What happens next is hazy... if it were not for the terror that still haunts me at night, I would've thought the whole thing a dream. They told me to strip... I felt as if my skin was burning when I was naked before them. One of them pinched my brown nipple and I cried out. My brother tensed and moved; they struck him with the pommel of a gladius and he hit the tiles; I cried to him and knelt at his side, and then a blow knocked me on my side. My head smarted, and I collapsed. They ripped my clothes off, but I was only barely aware. I heard shouting (not screaming but shouting)... now I realize perhaps it was orders meant for my captors. I was sure they would rape me, but they only tied us.
My body was numb and I barely felt any sensation when they tied us, with our wrists behind us; they took the long ends and looped them around our bellies. They stood us up; I was dizzy but conscious and I felt some of my strenght returning. By the waist they led us away. We saw most of the others, hundreds of them, stripping or nude already, all with the same lost stare, some crying, some hunched over on the floor. The legionaries had crowded the Acropolis; they were emptying its stores of oil and food.
When we descended the rock, I moaned in agony, for I saw Athens before me, a black husk breaking down before my eyes. The whole west of the city was still smoking. I heave and almost throw up, gag on it.
My home is gone, and I am a slave.
I look at them without thinking, as if to plead with my eyes. The closest one blurts in broken Greek:
"Look down slaves."
Something breaks inside me, and I feel the exact moment when I surrender. I know they can see it, how my body droops down with my gaze, and my brother next to me sinks too. He whimpers and drops the knife. He looks at me, but he is paralyzed. His feet are bolted to the ground, as are mine. I look at their sandals, their hairy legs under the red tunics.
The word slave is a sting on my face, like a blow. It spreads over my cheeks, tingling, though I have not been touched. I feel short of breath. I know I have to fight, that I cannot be a slave, not a slave. My eyes moisten and I cry.
What happens next is hazy... if it were not for the terror that still haunts me at night, I would've thought the whole thing a dream. They told me to strip... I felt as if my skin was burning when I was naked before them. One of them pinched my brown nipple and I cried out. My brother tensed and moved; they struck him with the pommel of a gladius and he hit the tiles; I cried to him and knelt at his side, and then a blow knocked me on my side. My head smarted, and I collapsed. They ripped my clothes off, but I was only barely aware. I heard shouting (not screaming but shouting)... now I realize perhaps it was orders meant for my captors. I was sure they would rape me, but they only tied us.
My body was numb and I barely felt any sensation when they tied us, with our wrists behind us; they took the long ends and looped them around our bellies. They stood us up; I was dizzy but conscious and I felt some of my strenght returning. By the waist they led us away. We saw most of the others, hundreds of them, stripping or nude already, all with the same lost stare, some crying, some hunched over on the floor. The legionaries had crowded the Acropolis; they were emptying its stores of oil and food.
When we descended the rock, I moaned in agony, for I saw Athens before me, a black husk breaking down before my eyes. The whole west of the city was still smoking. I heave and almost throw up, gag on it.
My home is gone, and I am a slave.