I once more could not resist to write my own viewpoint.
Post DCCCXIV.
Among the hundreds of condemned in the conspiracy was also an older man named Loxuru. A lifelong bummer, freeloader, parasite, renegade and schemer. It was symptomatic for the amateurish character of the conspiracy, that they had included something like him in the plot. Under cover of a wine trade, he acted as go between for some of the main conspirators. He passed information (sometimes concealed as a wine order), and regularly sums of money (unbelievable he was entrusted for that) between the conspirators (after all, there was nothing suspicious about a wine merchant carrying money with him). He did this all of course, because he let him pay for these services, not for free – of course!. Actually, he did not bother at all about the political aspects of the conspiracy, but he had some grunt against the Emperor, particularly since that public flogging, years ago, for delivering goods of inferior quality and some other fraud. Even more, the conspirators had promised him profitable contracts for his wine business, once they would be in power.
So the point is, that Loxuru was well aware of the conspiracy and had knowledge of those involved. Although he was clever enough to deliver, on this occasion, quality goods, he could not keep his mouth shut and boasted about his important clients and how important they would be in the near future. So, he was one of the many leaks of the conspiracy, but he always managed to talk himself out when the conspirators inquired about it. So, instead of silencing him, as security would impose, they kept confidence in him.
One day, the infiltrator asked him to pass a message to one of the conspirators. Arrived there, he was already awaited by an arrest team. Like many hundreds, he was without mercy condemned to the cross.
It was almost midday when he started his walk to his final fate, along the Via Appia. His destination was post DCCCXIV. Considering that the higher the number of the post, the lower the importance of the conspirator, DCCCXIV was a flattering low number for him.
Clad in only a loincloth, he took up the already considerably long march over the cobbles of the Via Appia, which had already started to heat up by the sun that stood meanwhile high. The cypress and umbrella pine trees hardly cast shadow at the time of the day. Even worse, his march was an almost endless way uphill. Let’s make himself the account :
“As soon as I left the Appian Gate, I was ‘welcomed’ by an endless row of crosses, on both sides of the road. All kind of people, men and women, from 18 to over 81, nailed to the wood, as a punishment for their – alleged – part in the conspiracy. The ‘big shots’, who had not been in the opportunity, or had been too scared to take their own lives, and their wives, had been crucified closest to the gate. All stripped from their citizenship, so that they could be crucified, and from their wealthy garments, naked and humiliated, destined to die an agonizing death. They had hoped, that one day, the world would look up at them, and that is exactly what happened to them now, but not in the way they had expected.
Along the first stade, I recognized many of my former clients. I think, some recognized me, raised their heads, but they must already have been up there since many hours, from dawn, and they were apparently too exhausted to talk. The scene was hectic. We had to march across onlookers, and legionaries guarding us, had to clear the way for us. Gradually, I marched along people I mostly did not know. The further I went, the better the condition of the crucified still was. The first tens were only moving slowly and with difficulty, clearly giving up to stay alive. Some must have been dead already, or almost.
But as I progressed, there was much more life on the crosses. The endless row of naked bodies, writhing up and down performing the (in)famous ‘dance of the crucified’, made the scene even look more hellish. The crucified also expressed their suffering louder, moaning, crying of pain. Some even managed to exchange words with each other, words of courage, or words of cursing, to the emperor, to their cross mates, to themselves. I figure, all along my last walk, I will encounter all stages of my upcoming fate, but in a reversed order as they will occur.
I took no more attention to whom the crucified were, which I passed along. I had to focus on keeping myself marching, with the wooden burden in my neck and the burden in my head of where I was going to. It surprised me however how many people seem to have been involved in this conspiracy. The half of Rome, it looked like. Difficult to keep things secret with such a crowd of conspirators. On the other hand, it should be a wake up call for the emperor. At least, if the emperor is still capable of detecting wake up calls.
I pass along post CCLX. A quick calculation (the ability of doing fast calculations has always been an important asset for my survival) learns me that I am only a third underway, while that bloody Via Appia keeps going uphill! I am sweating, already exhausted and thirsty, my legs tremble, and that beam in my neck is its own torture. Suddenly, there is a bit of rumour in front of me. Apparently, some young ruffians among the onlookers had tried to amuse themselves by fondling one of the crucified ladies. The legionary guarding her cross, has however prevented this, cuffing one of them. I look up, and really, the woman looks very attractive, even in her suffering. She’s on post CCLXVII, I notice, and then, suddenly, I recognize her! She is the wife of one of the conspirators! One who escaped the cross by killing himself, but clearly, they did not spare his wife! Obvious that they crucified her : who shares the marital bed, shares the other one’s secrets! And the other one’s guilt!
I recall her specifically, since, when her husband had ordered a load of wine from me, he specifically purchased a crate of amphorae with Riesling for her. And it better would have been of very good quality, he requested, so that she would not complain whole days long about it. Let me point out, Riesling wine had to be brought all the way from the Rhine region, so it was rather expensive. But the man was prepared to spend the money, to please his wife, so I permitted myself an extra profit on the deliveries. I had seen his wife on a few occasions, and I recall her as very elegant, stylish lady, the queen of the estate. Now that I see her naked, I realise that, regardless him being dead now, what a lucky bastard her husband has been, for the time that he has lived. Ducissa Barbara Morilla, her titulus mentions. Now I know her name.
‘Clack!’ I shout of pain when one of the legionaries hits me on my thigh with a stick. Staring at Barbara Morilla, I had, unperceived, slowed down my pace and stopped.
‘Walk, you lazy cow’, the guard yells, to the pleasure of the nearby onlookers.
As a reaction on the lash, I hear a shriek, coming from a cross opposite of Morilla. To my bewilderment, it comes from Lucilla, Morilla’s maidservant, whom I have met regularly during my wine deliveries. Pleasant to deal with, sometimes a bit flirting, we had more than one chat in the scullery of the estate. It angers me that she, completely innocent, has also been subjected to this cruel and humiliating ordeal.
‘Hey! This is not a tourist venue! This is the Via Appia! March!’ The guard hits me again, and with great effort, I restart the march, with the heavy beam in my neck, on the eternally uphill road. I throw a last look on the crucified Barbara Morilla (whom, I doubt has given attention to this simple plebeian; once a noble, always a noble, even when she’s nailed naked to a cross), and to Lucilla (who looks at me with concern in her eyes).
‘I am on DCCCXIV!’ I stupidly remark.
Then, I continue the march to the end of the row of crucified.
It is clear for me now, that not only the conspirators got crucified, but also their relatives, acquaintances, and even servants and slaves. People whom, I knew, had nothing to do with the conspiracy. Clearly, the principle of guilty by suspicion, or even by association, had been applied.
All right, idiots like me, participating in that stupid, blundering conspiracy, deserve no better, but people like Lucilla,… that angers me!
I suddenly realise that I better accept my fate. It otherwise would not be fair towards Lucilla and all the other innocent people. I must undergo it all, no matter how cruel it will be. It’s game over! Full stop! My luck has ran out, so let it be, it is even overdue! On your feet, Lox, and march, I order myself, it is still a long way to post DCCCXIV. Maybe I can distract myself by keeping the images in my head of the crucified Barbara Morilla and that of unfortunate Lucilla.”
The end (although not yet in sight)