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The Fate of a Goth Girl

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twonines said:
Nice contrast, PrPr, between the opulent fare for the Roman aristocracy and Barbara`s treatment.
Reminiscent of the old Army monologue:-
"It`s the same the whole world over,
Isn`t it a bleeding shame,
It`s the rich what gets the pleasure,
It`s the poor what gets the blame."
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Or Kiplings's
You may talk o’ gin and beer
When you’re quartered safe out ’ere,
An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it;
But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water,
An’ you’ll lick the bloomin’ boots of ’im that’s got it.
 
Praefectus Praetorio said:
Barb gets some company

Lucius drew Marcus's attention to three soldiers walking toward the atrium's center, each with a large box. From the efforts they made to keep control of their burdens, it was apparent that there was something alive and moving within. They set their boxes down near the sack and waited for orders.
“She should be ready now,” said Piso after about five minutes. He knew the heat inside the sack must be unbearable now. The girl’s sweat would add to the next torment. “Singillatim, si placet (one by one, if you please), the serpens (snake) first.”
A soldier held open the top of the sack with his arms stretched out. Another picked up a box and removed the lid, carefully keeping it as far from him as possible. He upended the box over the sack, and the other closed it immediately. In that brief moment, the onlookers caught a glimpse of the long greyish-black body of a serpent falling into the sack.

“An Aesculapian snake,” said Piso to the slaver, “non-venomous, but more than unpleasant enough to share a sack with.” Lylcu's mouth fell open with astonishment. A moment later, the sack could be seen to shake violently.
View attachment 986619
“I think the slut has realized who she has for company,” laughed Galerius, stuffing a large leg of Pullum Parthicum (Parthian Chicken – a most popular dish in Rome) in his mouth, the rich garum and asafoetida sauce running down his receding, multiple chins. “Let’s hope it decides to explore her cunne.” He laughed even louder, spitting out some half-chewed chicken on the ground. The Praeses's son then turned and kicked the nearest servant. "Piger nothe (Lazy mongrel)! My goblet’s almost empty. More wine!”
All the men gazed in fascination at the little drama playing out in the sack. The wolf-hide hood and the ox-hide bag ensured almost total silence. But jerking motions showed the girl's chained arms moving in a desperate attempt to protect herself. Even with her movement limited, they could tell she was twisting and bending in fear. They tried to imagine what it was like for her with her knees forced open in the presence of the slithering snake.

After about ten minutes, Piso called to the soldiers. “Gallus, si placet (the cock, if you please).”
At Mogurix's order, one man donned thick leather gloves and opened the second box. Gingerly, he reach in and came up with a black and red gamecock.
View attachment 986620
Careful to avoid the sharp talons, he held it over the sack as another opened the top. Quickly, he thrust the angry bird down as the other closed and tied the sack.
The reaction from inside was immediate and impressive. Even with multiple layers of hide muffling the Goth's voice, the men could hear a high, blood-curdling shriek. The motions of the sack were now highly violent.

“The slut seems to be enjoying that new cock," joked Galerius as the others joined in the jocularity.
“Goth whores like her can’t get enough of a powerful verpa (erection/cock),” opined Lycus.
“Anything male seems to make her excitita (aroused, excited),” said Piso.
“Do you believe how she moves even with those chains!” said Galerius, talking with his mouth full of a large helping of botulus (blood pudding sausage). “The canicula (little bitch) is trying to offer her cunne to both serpens et gallus at once! She is so hungry for mentulis (dicks)!”
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Ingenious ... No wonder Barb is squirming for her life when she is so close to a Game Cock filling the mouth of an Enthusiastic Snake ...
 
Praefectus Praetorio said:
Barb gets some company

Lucius drew Marcus's attention to three soldiers walking toward the atrium's center, each with a large box. From the efforts they made to keep control of their burdens, it was apparent that there was something alive and moving within. They set their boxes down near the sack and waited for orders.
“She should be ready now,” said Piso after about five minutes. He knew the heat inside the sack must be unbearable now. The girl’s sweat would add to the next torment. “Singillatim, si placet (one by one, if you please), the serpens (snake) first.”
A soldier held open the top of the sack with his arms stretched out. Another picked up a box and removed the lid, carefully keeping it as far from him as possible. He upended the box over the sack, and the other closed it immediately. In that brief moment, the onlookers caught a glimpse of the long greyish-black body of a serpent falling into the sack.

“An Aesculapian snake,” said Piso to the slaver, “non-venomous, but more than unpleasant enough to share a sack with.” Lylcu's mouth fell open with astonishment. A moment later, the sack could be seen to shake violently.
View attachment 986619
“I think the slut has realized who she has for company,” laughed Galerius, stuffing a large leg of Pullum Parthicum (Parthian Chicken – a most popular dish in Rome) in his mouth, the rich garum and asafoetida sauce running down his receding, multiple chins. “Let’s hope it decides to explore her cunne.” He laughed even louder, spitting out some half-chewed chicken on the ground. The Praeses's son then turned and kicked the nearest servant. "Piger nothe (Lazy mongrel)! My goblet’s almost empty. More wine!”
All the men gazed in fascination at the little drama playing out in the sack. The wolf-hide hood and the ox-hide bag ensured almost total silence. But jerking motions showed the girl's chained arms moving in a desperate attempt to protect herself. Even with her movement limited, they could tell she was twisting and bending in fear. They tried to imagine what it was like for her with her knees forced open in the presence of the slithering snake.

After about ten minutes, Piso called to the soldiers. “Gallus, si placet (the cock, if you please).”
At Mogurix's order, one man donned thick leather gloves and opened the second box. Gingerly, he reach in and came up with a black and red gamecock.
View attachment 986620
Careful to avoid the sharp talons, he held it over the sack as another opened the top. Quickly, he thrust the angry bird down as the other closed and tied the sack.
The reaction from inside was immediate and impressive. Even with multiple layers of hide muffling the Goth's voice, the men could hear a high, blood-curdling shriek. The motions of the sack were now highly violent.

“The slut seems to be enjoying that new cock," joked Galerius as the others joined in the jocularity.
“Goth whores like her can’t get enough of a powerful verpa (erection/cock),” opined Lycus.
“Anything male seems to make her excitita (aroused, excited),” said Piso.
“Do you believe how she moves even with those chains!” said Galerius, talking with his mouth full of a large helping of botulus (blood pudding sausage). “The canicula (little bitch) is trying to offer her cunne to both serpens et gallus at once! She is so hungry for mentulis (dicks)!”
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Marvellous, thank you so much! This is the first crux story ever when I’m not just basically hanging out for the scourging scene!

I’m unsure how many have encountered textbook references to the poena cullei (“Torture of the sack”) before, but they seem to consistently down play the torment of it. Reduced almost to “throw someone in a sack, add a couple of harmless sounding animals,” without thinking about it, you could be forgiven for thinking “oh a non venomous snake and a cockerel - unpleasant but it’s not so bad or as cruel a torture like the touch of a hot iron”

But when you deeply consider it, the sack is one of the most traumatic tortures ever devised. The mental anguish, not being mobile, a mask over your head, the suffocating heat, adding a biting angry snake and a terrified rooster. Yikes!

Harmless barnyard creature you might say? Have you SEEN the talons on those - we used to own one as a pet and some of my friends were downright terrified of him. And they can run away, shut a door, etc. it’s quite obvious watching my rooster bounding down the corridor towards my terrified friend, birds really are just miniature dinosaurs!

it is not just a physical torture - above all it is mental torment. You’re in the dark, your limbs bound, sweating, barely able to catch your breath, in an oxhide sack! Then a snake is added (particularly scary for a woman I expect as they imagine the worst, no picnic for a male either / even one such as I raised with many venomous snakes around). Of course you’re unlikely to be told it’s non venomous either, so the fear of a poison bit is equally valid. Then adding the absurd sounding rooster! Both animals will variously bite, peck, constrict, scratch, claw, kick with talons virtually anywhere on (or in) your broken bleeding body!

And trust Mr Praefectus Praetorio to so eloquently make it all so real for this appreciative audience. From the red rods to the rooster! Any other author, I’d be maybe concerned a long build up and short description of it might disappoint, but far from it! Superb work, I tip my hat to you sir! Please take a bow, bravo!

———————

You’re on your own Barb, my offer to swap places is hereby withdrawn!
 
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The laughter died down as the men were captivated, watching the desperate struggles from within the sack. After another ten minutes, Piso pointed to the soldier with the gloves. He, in turn, uncovered the last box and withdrew a small red she-fox, fighting wildly. This too was dumped into the bag.
04232019_GutterHelmet.jpg
Barbara had no coherent thoughts at this point. Terrible pain from bites and scratches as well as terror from the unseen animal attackers had driven her from a rational human to a frantic wild animal. All she could do was squirm and try to use her elbows to fend off attacks on her torn breasts and sides. She could do nothing to protect her thighs nor the exposed cleft between. Everywhere she felt the agony of torn and bleeding flesh. Three different animals were fighting each other and she was in the middle. Struggling for breath within the suffocating hood, she could only manage small moans and yelps of hurt

The summer heat was oppressive in the atrium and even penetrated under the portico. Several of the soldiers had been drafted to wave large feather fans on the reclining men to keep them cool. Savoring the rich food and quaffing the fine wine, the men were mesmerized by the action before them. No one here had ever witnessed the Poena Cullei before. Even the few who'd heard of it were astounded at the unseen torment inflicted on the chained girl. In a way, it was more exciting and arousing to imagine what was happening to the girl than it would have been to actually see.
Ten minutes more, and the motions slowed as both the animals and the girl tired of the efforts. When that happened, Gaius gestured to Mogurix to stir things up. The Optio poked the sack hard with the ball on the end of his hastile and the action resumed. He repeated this maneuver several times as the strength of those in the sack ran down along with the sands in Piso's hourglass.

The feast was also running down as most of the diners were now more than satiated with the sumptuous array. Marcus instructed the servants to clean up the detritus and remove the mensa. Before they did, however, Galerius insisted on filling his lancem (platter) to overflowing one last time.

As the last grains flowed down the hourglass, Calixtus turned to the Quaestor. “It is nearly decima (tenth hour – 4 PM) perhaps we should bring the Goth’s suffering in culleo (in the sack) to a conclusion – to preserve her for tomorrow?” The Quaestor nodded agreement and the Centurion instructed Acaunissa to do so.

The Optio had his men remove the animals which effort earned them several painful scratches. The snake and cock were mostly unmoving, but the fox was still full of fight. After they were placed in their boxes and hauled away, the men stripped the sack from the girl.

There was a collective intact of breath in shock as the men viewed Barbara’s condition.
The Goth was slumped over, shivering despite the heat. Her whole body was covered with cuts and scratches. Her chest was rising and falling with labored breathing as she struggled for air in the tight hood.
“Auferte lupum caput (remove the wolf’s head),” Gaius ordered. The soldiers stripped off the wolf hide. The girl’s face was bright red, drenched in sweat, her lidded eyes staring blankly, her swollen and chapped lips moving wordlessly. She looked to be on the verge of passing out.
“Dare ei aquam, velocissime (Give her water, most quickly)!” cried Piso.
“Dies (Gods)!” cried Marcus at the pitiful sight. “You can see how horrible a death this can be!”
“Less than the bitch deserves,” sneered Antonious. “Why give her water? Let the Goth scum suffer!”
“Only so she may live for tomorrow’s scourging and crucifixion, sir,” said Piso with barely disguised contempt. This youth really was too stupid to live, he thought.
 
Praefectus Praetorio said:
“Less than the bitch deserves,” sneered Antonious. “Why give her water? Let the Goth scum suffer!”
“Only so she may live for tomorrow’s scourging and crucifixion, sir,” said Piso with barely disguised contempt.
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Give me water or give me death! I regret that I have but one life to ....

Wait a sec! Wrong speech :doh:
 
Regarding Poena Cullei - This is a supplement to post #181.

I waited to give the punishment details, not to reveal what was coming up in the story. The usual animals listed (though it varied) were a snake, a cock, a dog, and a monkey. Most scholars doubt that the Romans even had monkeys in the early stages of the punishment. And I preferred using a fox to a dog.

In 1920, Max Radin of The University of California wrote an article, “The Lex Pompeia and the Poena Cullei,” in The Journal of Roman Studies. It was one of my sources for the punishment. If you are interested in learning more, you will find a pdf below. The article begins this way:

“When the South Sea Bubble burst, a passionate member of the British Parliament called for the application of the Lex Pompeia on Parricides to those who had defrauded the nation. Just as the Romans, he argued, face to face with a monstrous and unprecedented crime, devised for it a monstrous and unprecedented punishment, so the British were invited to tie the directors of the South Sea Company into sacks with a dog, a cock, a viper and an ape in each, and sink them in the Thames.
The statement then made is, it seems, the general belief about the origin of this famous Roman death-penalty. That belief is demonstrably wrong, although Seneca, who doubtless knew better, makes a rhetorical point by pretending to share it. Parricide did not first occur in Rome in the first pre-Christian century, nor was tying in a sack and subsequent drowning first introduced then. Both the offence and this particular mode of vindicating it were more ancient.”

Some readers here may have read my story, Rebecca and the Bloody Codes, which was completed at Christmas over a year ago. The story began with a recitation of the events of the South Sea Bubble, the riots that followed, and the passing, in response, of the infamous "Bloody Codes." (https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofEngland/South-Sea-Bubble/). The story then shows how these dominoes affected Rebecca's family in Kent and set her tragic story in motion.

I am always trying to plan ahead as I devise plot complications and surprise relationships. I enjoy planting the seeds of unusual coincidence. In this case, you can see that I chose to use the South Sea Bubble to plant a tiny hint in Rebecca’s story to connect to Poena Collei and, in turn, to the Goth Girl.

So we can now see Gothic Barbara, and Kentish Rebecca tied together via a mystical cord of history and memory stretching over thirteen centuries.

Where will my next historical link take us?

Professor Radin's article:
 

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Praefectus Praetorio said:
So we can now see Gothic Barbara, and Kentish Rebecca tied together via a mystical cord of history and memory stretching over thirteen centuries.
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Hmmmmm ... they hanged her, didn’t they? I’m beginning to think she got the better deal :confused:
 
Praefectus Praetorio said:
Regarding Poena Cullei - This is a supplement to post #181.

I waited to give the punishment details, not to reveal what was coming up in the story. The usual animals listed (though it varied) were a snake, a cock, a dog, and a monkey. Most scholars doubt that the Romans even had monkeys in the early stages of the punishment. And I preferred using a fox to a dog.

In 1920, Max Radin of The University of California wrote an article, “The Lex Pompeia and the Poena Cullei,” in The Journal of Roman Studies. It was one of my sources for the punishment. If you are interested in learning more, you will find a pdf below. The article begins this way:

“When the South Sea Bubble burst, a passionate member of the British Parliament called for the application of the Lex Pompeia on Parricides to those who had defrauded the nation. Just as the Romans, he argued, face to face with a monstrous and unprecedented crime, devised for it a monstrous and unprecedented punishment, so the British were invited to tie the directors of the South Sea Company into sacks with a dog, a cock, a viper and an ape in each, and sink them in the Thames.
The statement then made is, it seems, the general belief about the origin of this famous Roman death-penalty. That belief is demonstrably wrong, although Seneca, who doubtless knew better, makes a rhetorical point by pretending to share it. Parricide did not first occur in Rome in the first pre-Christian century, nor was tying in a sack and subsequent drowning first introduced then. Both the offence and this particular mode of vindicating it were more ancient.”

Some readers here may have read my story, Rebecca and the Bloody Codes, which was completed at Christmas over a year ago. The story began with a recitation of the events of the South Sea Bubble, the riots that followed, and the passing, in response, of the infamous "Bloody Codes." (https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofEngland/South-Sea-Bubble/). The story then shows how these dominoes affected Rebecca's family in Kent and set her tragic story in motion.

I am always trying to plan ahead as I devise plot complications and surprise relationships. I enjoy planting the seeds of unusual coincidence. In this case, you can see that I chose to use the South Sea Bubble to plant a tiny hint in Rebecca’s story to connect to Poena Collei and, in turn, to the Goth Girl.

So we can now see Gothic Barbara, and Kentish Rebecca tied together via a mystical cord of history and memory stretching over thirteen centuries.

Where will my next historical link take us?

Professor Radin's article:
Click to expand...
This 'cats in a sack' torture was used in more recent times under the Colonels' regime in Greece.
 
A soldier brought the bowl of water to the girl and held it to her lips. But she was too much in shock to drink. He slapped her lightly, and she regained a little awareness. He then poured a little in between her lips, and she responded to the welcome moisture in her dry mouth. Tilting the bowl up, more flowed in, and the girl began to drink. Another bowl was brought, and she drank eagerly. Refills were offered, allowing the Goth to drink her fill.

Quaestor Piso stood and addressed all in the atrium.
“This completes the official punishment of slave Barbara for today. Tomorrow at hora tertia (the third hour – 9 AM), she shall be flagellabitur (flogged) here at the pila verberis (whipping pillar) by the entire praesidio (garrison). Then…”
At that point, Galerius interrupted the magistrate, "I hope it will be a good flogging!"
Piso struggled to contain his intense disgust. “It shall be ‘good,’ domine (lord). A lash each by more than sixty strong men. It shall be ‘good.’”
“Very well then,” said the son of the Praeses (Governor), stuffing the last piece of chicken on his plate into his bulging mouth.
“Then,” the Quaestor began again, “she shall carry her patibulum (crossbeam) to the arena for her execution. You are all, of course, welcome to both the flogging and the crucifixion. We now will leave the bitch in lenibus aptisque manibus (in the gentle and capable hands) of our militum (soldiers).”
The aristocrats began to leave, each passing close by the kneeling girl to see, up close, her beauty and her wounds. Barbara, exhausted and tormented by her experience, just sat still and murmured, over and over, in her native language, "Bidjan, bidjan, bidjam…(Please, I beg, I beseech)”!

After the visitors had left, the Centurion called the soldiers together.
“The Quaestor has decreed that the girl is yours to employ as you wish for the night.” There was a general murmur of appreciation. All the men had seen how very sexy she was and had to stand by while the aristocrats had first crack at the girl.
“Galerius Antonious (here there was a snicker or two at the reference to the clownish son of the Praeses) has a personal hatred for her. But I have a responsibility to ensure her fitness for her execution tomorrow. Therefore, milites, enjoy her womanly charms to your fill tonight,” many expressions of lust, “but do not hurt her further! Intellegisne (understand)?" The men nodded. They knew their Centurion expected instant and precise obedience.
“Finish up by the end of the secunda vigilia noctis (second watch of the night – ending at midnight). We'll give her a little sleep before her ordeal tomorrow.”

With his instructions complete, Gaius turned to go to his quarters. He's seen enough of the Goth's torture for one day. Though fearless and ferocious in battle, Calixtus found no pleasure in the systematic abuse and destruction of a helpless girl. He knew he would see enough on the morrow with her flogging and crucifixion. Gaius entered his room and removed his helmet, red cloak, and body armor. It felt good in the still strong heat of the early evening. He sat on his little sellam (camp stool) and tried to relax. It had been a hard day. Trying to get along with those molles et arrogantes (soft and conceited) nobles had been very unpleasant. Gaius thought he would prefer facing alone a charging squad of German devils rather than those self-preening nobles.
However, his mind kept returning to the unfortunate Goth girl. Seventy strong men, each giving a stroke of the cat to that poor young thing. It would be a nightmare! The Centurion would, as always, obey his orders. Whatever he was instructed to do to the slavegirl, he would do. Nevertheless, a flogging of seventy strokes just seemed wrong!
Gaius poured himself a small cup of water wine and took a sip to wet his parched throat. It wasn't anywhere near as fine at the Falernian that Lycus had provided, but it was good enough for Calixtus' simple taste. After a moment, an idea occurred to the Centurion. He turned to his desk and wrote a short order on a wax tablet. He summoned the soldier on duty outside his quarters and told him to take it to the Optio.
Calixtus lay down on his thinly-padded crabato (pallet). He wondered how Galerius would take the news in the morning. Not well, he thought. Then Gaius smiled broadly, rolled onto his side, and swiftly fell into a deep sleep.
 
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Praefectus Praetorio said:
A soldier brought the bowl of water to the girl and held it to her lips. But she was too much in shock to drink. He slapped her lightly, and she regained a little awareness. He then poured a little in between her lips, and she responded to the welcome moisture in her dry mouth. Tilting the bowl up, more flowed in, and the girl began to drink. Another bowl was brought, and she drank eagerly. Refills were offered, allowing the Goth to drink her fill.

Quaestor Piso stood and addressed all in the atrium.
“This completes the official punishment of slave Barbara for today. Tomorrow at hora tertia (the third hour – 9 AM), she shall be flagellabitur (flogged) here at the pila verberis (whipping pillar) by the entire praesidio (garrison). Then…”
At that point, Galerius interrupted the magistrate, "I hope it will be a good flogging!"
Piso struggled to contain his intense disgust. “It shall be ‘good,’ domine (lord). A lash each by more than sixty strong men. It shall be ‘good.’”
“Very well then,” said the son of the Praeses (Governor), stuffing the last piece of chicken on his plate into his bulging mouth.
“Then,” the Quaestor began again, “she shall carry her patibulum (crossbeam) to the arena for her execution. You are all, of course, welcome to both the flogging and the crucifixion. We now will leave the bitch in lenibus aptisque manibus (in the gentle and capable hands) of our militum (soldiers).”
The aristocrats began to leave, each passing close by the kneeling girl to see, up close, her beauty and her wounds. Barbara, exhausted and tormented by her experience, just sat still and murmured, over and over, in her native language, "Bidjan, bidjan, bidjam…(Please, I beg, I beseech)”!

After the visitors had left, the Centurion called the soldiers together.
“The Quaestor has decreed that the girl is yours to employ as you wish for the night.” There was a general murmur of appreciation. All the men had seen how very sexy she was and had to stand by while the aristocrats had first crack at the girl.
“Galerius Antonious (here there was a snicker or two at the reference to the clownish son of the Praeses) has a personal hatred for her. But I have a responsibility to ensure her fitness for her execution tomorrow. Therefore, milites, enjoy her womanly charms to your fill tonight,” many expressions of lust, “but do not hurt her further! Intellegisne (understand)?" The men nodded. They knew their Centurion expected instant and precise obedience.
“Finish up by the end of the secunda vigilia noctis (second watch of the night – ending at midnight). We'll give her a little sleep before her ordeal tomorrow.”

With his instructions complete, Gaius turned to go to his quarters. He's seen enough of the Goth's torture for one day. Though fearless and ferocious in battle, Calixtus found no pleasure in the systematic abuse and destruction of a helpless girl. He knew he would see enough on the morrow with her flogging and crucifixion. Gaius entered his room and removed his helmet, red cloak, and body armor. It felt good in the still strong heat of the early evening. He sat on his little sellam (camp stool) and tried to relax. It had been a hard day. Trying to get along with those molles et arrogantes (soft and conceited) nobles had been very unpleasant. Gaius thought he would prefer facing alone a charging squad of German devils rather than those self-preening nobles.
However, his mind kept returning to the unfortunate Goth girl. Seventy strong men, each giving a stroke of the cat to that poor young thing. It would be a nightmare! The Centurion would, as always, obey his orders. Whatever he was instructed to do to the slavegirl, he would do. Nevertheless, a flogging of seventy strokes just seemed wrong!
Gaius poured himself a small cup of water wine and took a sip to wet his parched throat. It wasn't anywhere near as fine at the Falernian that Lycus had provided, but it was good enough for Calixtus' simple taste. After a moment, an idea occurred to the Centurion. He turned to his desk and wrote a short order on a wax tablet. He summoned the soldier on duty outside his quarters and told him to take it to the Optio.
Calixtus lay down on his thinly-padded crabato (pallet). He wondered how Galerius would take the news in the morning. Not well, he thought. Then Gaius smiled broadly, rolled onto his side, and swiftly fell into a deep sleep.
Click to expand...
I thought it was most unlike our esteemed author to give the condemned Goth slut a genuine break ... Then, once the planned overnight activities became clear it all made sense!

Also, you can't beat a good camp stool of an evening following a hard day torturing!
 
"Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!"

After drinking her fill of water, Barbara knelt quietly in the center of the atrium. As the pompous Romans walked by, leering at her chained and naked body, she whispered pleas for mercy. A sign of how traumatized she had been was that she unconsciously uttered these pleas in Gothic, not Latin or the local Gallic.
In fact, the Goth girl was well on her way to losing touch with the reality around her. The abuse, humiliation, and torture that she had endured during the last twenty-four hours was more than enough to unsettle even the strongest mind. Especially damaging mentally had been the horror, blind and helpless in the sack, as animals with fang and tooth and talon, attacked her. Barb shivered to think of it.
As the soldiers removed her collars and chains and loosed the bands on her legs, the girl made no move except to wrap her freed arms around herself and rock gently forward and back as she tried to deal with the continuing pain. She did not hear the Centurion giving orders or even the lustful cheers of the men when they learned that she was to be their plaything for the night. However, as two dozen men came and surrounded her, she looked up at them in justified fear and apprehension. A half dozen grabbed her and hoisted her high over their shoulders, ignoring her cries of fear. They carried her as they would some valuable booty from a victory as the others went along shouting encouragement and rude threats.

Tertius thanked Silva as the auctioneer and a soldier bade him adieu at his door. That young man was a credit to his generation, the old man thought. He knew how to show respect to his elders, unlike so many these days. All the old morals seemed to be fading. Modern society was becoming too coarse, he observed. It had no use for the old.
After a very long bath, followed by a full rubdown by his favorite and youngest slavegirl, Silvia, Tertius Aemilius went to his cubiculum (bedchamber) alone, as always. His beloved wife had died fifteen years ago after forty years of a loving and intimate marriage. From age sixteen to fifty-six, they had shared everything in life. Even now, the old man refused to allow another to take her place beside him in the night. Any erotic activities (which were far fewer than he may have wished) with his slaves were conducted elsewhere.
Tertius sipped the foul-tasting Elixer with Ippomarathron et Glukoriza (fennel and licorice) prescribed by the local medicus (doctor) to calm his stomach and kidneys and reduce painful urination during the night. He gnawed on a dried rhubarb stalk to control his flatulence. None of it worked well, he thought; getting old was not fun. However, when he climbed into bed, a smile came to his face and a slight stirring came to his loins, as he remembered his stallion-like performance with that Goth slavegirl and her cries of excitement at his efforts. Dies! That had been wonderful!
Maybe he would go to see her punishment tomorrow, Tertius thought. He suddenly felt great sorrow for her. The Quaestor had been much too harsh with his judgment. It was all because of the tantrum of that sorry excuse for a son of the Praesidis. Perhaps he would mention his doubts to Piso in the morning. The Aemilius name still carried a lot of weight in Gallia Narbonensis, Tertius thought. Besides, he did want to see that lovely girl again. One last chance to relive his triumph of today.
 
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Marcus Lycus arrived at his house before sunset and instructed the servants to put away the equipment and leftovers from the mini-banquet. It had been an expensive effort, he thought to himself, but well worth it. The favor of the Quaestor was invaluable for a mercatori who specialized in slave trading. And the good-will of the centurionis praesdii might someday be useful. Though Marcus, like most of the influential people in Narbo, loathed the foppish filium Praesidis (son of the Governor), the favor of the Praesidis was most important for any citizen, especially a slaver.
Anxious to wash off the castrorum atrium's dust, Marcus ordered that his bath be drawn immediately. He also gave instructions that his three favorite slavegirls attend him there.

The mercator (trader) lay back with his eyes closed as the three, well-trained girls, nude as always, sensuously worked his body. Vita bona est (Life is good), he whispered under his breath.
Even after the wonderfully arousing and draining encounter with the Goth slave, Marcus swiftly regained an erection. It wasn’t just the erotic ministration of his slaves, he thought, it was the memory of how that tight little ass moved around his pounding prick, accompanied by her cries of pain. Despite lacking proper training, the new girl was stunningly sexual. What a prize!
It was a pity, Marcus thought, that, by this time tomorrow, she would be hanging dead on a cross. The practical man of business in him rebelled at the waste. All because of the petulance of that spoiled brat! And, Lycus thought, the silliness of the Quaestor going along in sentencing the girl to death. It was completely unnecessary. Perhaps tomorrow, he would speak to the Quaestor and suggest that her life be spared. Marcus toyed with the idea of offering some money to Piso and Antonious to buy the girl back. Yes, he thought! She would be very nice to train and later could be sold for good money.
With his plan settled in his mind, the slave trader turned his attention back to his increasing arousal and to the pleasant take of deciding which of the three girls would have the honor to share his bed for the night.

Barbara lay quietly on the bench, breathing in short, shallow gasps. She had no idea of the time. It must be sometime between midnight and dawn, she surmised. What day was it? Had it really been only a day and a half since she was walking carefree down that country lane on a hot, languid summer afternoon, thinking of the trivia of her everyday life? She had been proud of herself after a successful plea with the neighboring tribe not to retaliate against the Romans for their latest slight. Peace was vital, she had said. Then those soldier bullies appeared, and her life was changed in a moment.
The girl tried to stretch a leg to relieve the cramping pain of the stressed position. However, the tight ropes on her wrists and ankles prevented any relief. Most of her body hurt. The angry welts from the rods and the deep bruises from the Optio's staff still cried out with pain. The hurt from the scratches and bites from the animals reminded her again of the horror of the hood and sack.

It was well after dark by the time Lucius Piso entered his domum (house). The supervision of the Goth girl’s punishment had forced him to reschedule an audit of the finances of a fraternal organization. He had gone there straight from the castris. As he entered his house, his loyal slaves (Lucius was a considerate and fair master) flocked around to welcome their dominum and make him comfortable. A parva portio (small snack) was laid out and his bath drawn.
As the Quaestor reclined comfortably domi (at home, locative case). He thought back to the slavegirl’s case. The half-wit of a filius Praesidis had stampeded Lucius into that very harsh sentence. Now, with the luxury of unhurried thought, Piso was thinking that the death penalty was too extreme for her offense. He smiled at recollecting the high scream from Galerius when she kicked his balls. It served the bastard right!
However, Piso, as Quaestor, had publicly pronounced the sentence and it might seem like levitas aut dubitatio (lacking seriousness or showing indecision) on his part to change his mind tomorrow. It all didn’t matter much anyway, he thought. Life or death for that Goth slut was inconsequential. But, he couldn’t help remembering what it was like to take her from behind like that. To kill such a sexy young girl seemed a waste.
Then, Lucius had a thought. He called for writing materials and penned two notes. Then he had one of his slaves go to deliver them. That’s all I can do, he thought. We shall see in the morning what comes of it.
 
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