The Fate of a Goth Girl

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Some may have puzzled over the special Gothic letter, þ, thyth. It is similar to the Old English letter, Thorn or þorn, which has since been replaced by the diphthong, th. Remember that the Gothic alphabet (not the language) was borrowed from the Greek uncial script by Bishop Ulfilias, and Greek has the letter theta, θ, for the th sound.

Perceptive historical readers may have noticed something familiar about the headman's name. Almost exactly five years before the events of this story, the decisive Battle of Adrianople (9 August 378) took place. It was fought between an Eastern Roman army led by the Eastern Roman Emperor Valens and Gothic rebels led by a Thervingian Gothic chieftain named Fritigern. The battle took place in the Roman province of Thracia. It ended with an overwhelming victory for the Goths and the death of Emperor Valens.
Fritigern was latinized into Fritigernus. His Gothic name was Friþugairns "desiring peace". Fritigern is honored in the Walhalla temple under the name Friediger.

Within a year of his victory, Friþugairns disappeared from the historical record. Some have speculated that he was assassinated by a rival chieftain. Another legend recounts his disgust at the bloodshed of the battle (close to 20,000 deaths on the Roman side), which caused him to retire from warfare and lead his small personal tribe away to the West somewhere, seeking a peaceful life.

We have no reliable representations of the appearance of the Goths. I based my description of Friþugairns on the shakey consensus view.
Many amateur historians say that Clay Matthews of the US Pro Football team, the Green Bay Packers is an excellent example of a Goth. (though perhaps too blond. We presume that the goths had similar coloring to the Southern Scandinavians).

 

[Barbaria1]

Many amateur historians say that Clay Matthews of the US Pro Football team, the Green Bay Packers is an excellent example. of a Goth.

The team could use a name change. The Green Bay Goths has much more style. I mean why name a team after a bunch of meat packers?

 

[Loinclothslave]

The team could use a name change. The Green Bay Goths has much more style. I mean why name a team after a bunch of meat packers?

Possibly a reference to what they’re packing - you know, down there?

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

As the surprisingly cordial conversation wound down, Sextus said “Vale (farewell)” and Friþugairns said “Alla gōda (all the best),”
Sextus turned to lead his men out. Just then, the headman thought to ask, “Bidja þuk, qiþais du mis (excuse me, tell me please)...a young woman of our village went missing the day before yesterday. Her name is Barbaþais - Latin it is Barbaria. Have you heard anything of her?”
Sextus stopped in his tracks. The headman was asking about the slave girl who would be crucified today! The Tesserarius tried frantically to come up with an evasive response. But, as he looked into the earnest eyes of the older man, Sextus, simple honest soldier that he was, simply couldn’t deceive him. This man that he’d come to respect, deserved the truth.
“Habai mik faurqiþanana (Sorry), I believe the girl you speak of has been arrested for a serious crime and is due to be executed today.”
The old man's face barely reflected any emotion besides a slight widening of his eyes and quiver of his lower lip.

“Ƕan (when)?

“Today at noon.”

“Ƕar (where)?”

“In harena in Narbone (in the arena in Narbo).”

The old man stood even more erect but in his eyes, Sextus saw great sadness. He took the Roman’s hand, “Awiliudō þus, frijōnds meins (thank you, my friend).”
Sextus had no idea what might be the consequence of his telling the Goth leader this news. But he felt that he had no choice.
The Tesserarius formed up his men and lead them out of the village and on their way back to Narbo.
Friþugairns stood erect and unmoving as he watched the soldiers march out of his village and out of sight over the hill.
Then he covered his eyes with his hands, sank to his knees and cried out in a loud, broken-hearted wail, “dauhtar meins!”


Relishing his continued role as master of ceremonies, Piso stood up and turned to address the men present.
“As you surely know, the next phase of punishment for the slavegirl Barbaria is a scourging by the praesidio. To begin, her owner and the victim of her violence, Galerius Corvus Antonious shall deliver the first ten lashes.” Perfunctory applause from the civilians; no sound from the soldiers.
“Galerie, please proceed.”

The young man heaved himself up from his chair with a grunt. The Centurion handed him the flagrum. Galerius was surprised how heavy this “medium” weight whip was. The lead balls tied into the thongs added significant heft.

The Optio escorted the Filium Praesidis to the whipping post.
Up close to the young Goth, Galerius was again mesmerized by her beauty. The soft, fair curve of her back tapering down to the thin waist and then swelling again to those sexy hips was truly perfect. The lumbare, having only a thin band around her waist and an even smaller piece cutting up her crack, left Barbaria’s sweet asscheeks completely bare and presented. Antonious’s mind flashed back to yesterday when he’d slipped his manhood between those soft genas (cheeks) and into her warm, tight cunne.
Mogurix reached down and swept off the girl’s loincloth in one quick motion. She was now completely naked as well as being completely helpless. Galerius was struck dumb. He just stood and stared.

“Are you going to stare at those babies all day, or are you going to thrash them?” called Piso. The loud remark was heard throughout the atrium and greeted by laughter from most of the men.
Galerius looked around and blushed. Quickly regaining his usual bravado, he replied, “I’ll thrash them until there's nothing left for the milites to whip!”

 

[Fossy]

As the surprisingly cordial conversation wound down, Sextus said “Vale (farewell)” and Friþugairns said “Alla gōda (all the best),”
Sextus turned to lead his men out. Just then, the headman thought to ask, “Bidja þuk, qiþais du mis (excuse me, tell me please)...a young woman of our village went missing the day before yesterday. Her name is Barbaþais - Latin it is Barbaria. Have you heard anything of her?”
Sextus stopped in his tracks. The headman was asking about the slave girl who would be crucified today! The Tesserarius tried frantically to come up with an evasive response. But, as he looked into the earnest eyes of the older man, Sextus, simple honest soldier that he was, simply couldn’t deceive him. This man that he’d come to respect, deserved the truth.
“Habai mik faurqiþanana (Sorry), I believe the girl you speak of has been arrested for a serious crime and is due to be executed today.”
The old man's face barely reflected any emotion besides a slight widening of his eyes and quiver of his lower lip.

“Ƕan (when)?

“Today at noon.”

“Ƕar (where)?”

“In harena in Narbone (in the arena in Narbo).”

The old man stood even more erect but in his eyes, Sextus saw great sadness. He took the Roman’s hand, “Awiliudō þus, frijōnds meins (thank you, my friend).”
Sextus had no idea what might be the consequence of his telling the Goth leader this news. But he felt that he had no choice.
The Tesserarius formed up his men and lead them out of the village and on their way back to Narbo.
Friþugairns stood erect and unmoving as he watched the soldiers march out of his village and out of sight over the hill.
Then he covered his eyes with his hands, sank to his knees and cried out in a loud, broken-hearted wail, “dauhtar meins!”


Relishing his continued role as master of ceremonies, Piso stood up and turned to address the men present.
“As you surely know, the next phase of punishment for the slavegirl Barbaria is a scourging by the praesidio. To begin, her owner and the victim of her violence, Galerius Corvus Antonious shall deliver the first ten lashes.” Perfunctory applause from the civilians; no sound from the soldiers.
“Galerie, please proceed.”

The young man heaved himself up from his chair with a grunt. The Centurion handed him the flagrum. Galerius was surprised how heavy this “medium” weight whip was. The lead balls tied into the thongs added significant heft.

The Optio escorted the Filium Praesidis to the whipping post.
Up close to the young Goth, Galerius was again mesmerized by her beauty. The soft, fair curve of her back tapering down to the thin waist and then swelling again to those sexy hips was truly perfect. The lumbare, having only a thin band around her waist and an even smaller piece cutting up her crack, left Barbaria’s sweet asscheeks completely bare and presented. Antonious’s mind flashed back to yesterday when he’d slipped his manhood between those soft genas (cheeks) and into her warm, tight cunne.
Mogurix reached down and swept off the girl’s loincloth in one quick motion. She was now completely naked as well as being completely helpless. Galerius was struck dumb. He just stood and stared.

“Are you going to stare at those babies all day, or are you going to thrash them?” called Piso. The loud remark was heard throughout the atrium and greeted by laughter from most of the men.
Galerius looked around and blushed. Quickly regaining his usual bravado, he replied, “I’ll thrash them until there's nothing left for the milites to whip!”

The image when the Goth Slut's loincloth is torn away ... beautiful! Got to say though I think the bedside manner of Sextus needs a little work ...

 

[old slave]

Some may have puzzled over the special Gothic letter, þ, thyth. It is similar to the Old English letter, Thorn or þorn, which has since been replaced by the diphthong, th

Still used in Icelandic, I showed off to my fellow cruisers when we went there and they were all pronouncing it 'p'

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Still used in Icelandic, I showed off to my fellow cruisers when we went there and they were all pronouncing it 'p'

As the thorn was often written a "y," thereby "Ye" in old writing meant and was pronounced as "The."

 

[Rupert_137]

As the surprisingly cordial conversation wound down, Sextus said “Vale (farewell)” and Friþugairns said “Alla gōda (all the best),”
Sextus turned to lead his men out. Just then, the headman thought to ask, “Bidja þuk, qiþais du mis (excuse me, tell me please)...a young woman of our village went missing the day before yesterday. Her name is Barbaþais - Latin it is Barbaria. Have you heard anything of her?”
Sextus stopped in his tracks. The headman was asking about the slave girl who would be crucified today! The Tesserarius tried frantically to come up with an evasive response. But, as he looked into the earnest eyes of the older man, Sextus, simple honest soldier that he was, simply couldn’t deceive him. This man that he’d come to respect, deserved the truth.
“Habai mik faurqiþanana (Sorry), I believe the girl you speak of has been arrested for a serious crime and is due to be executed today.”
The old man's face barely reflected any emotion besides a slight widening of his eyes and quiver of his lower lip.

“Ƕan (when)?

“Today at noon.”

“Ƕar (where)?”

“In harena in Narbone (in the arena in Narbo).”

The old man stood even more erect but in his eyes, Sextus saw great sadness. He took the Roman’s hand, “Awiliudō þus, frijōnds meins (thank you, my friend).”
Sextus had no idea what might be the consequence of his telling the Goth leader this news. But he felt that he had no choice.
The Tesserarius formed up his men and lead them out of the village and on their way back to Narbo.
Friþugairns stood erect and unmoving as he watched the soldiers march out of his village and out of sight over the hill.
Then he covered his eyes with his hands, sank to his knees and cried out in a loud, broken-hearted wail, “dauhtar meins!”


Relishing his continued role as master of ceremonies, Piso stood up and turned to address the men present.
“As you surely know, the next phase of punishment for the slavegirl Barbaria is a scourging by the praesidio. To begin, her owner and the victim of her violence, Galerius Corvus Antonious shall deliver the first ten lashes.” Perfunctory applause from the civilians; no sound from the soldiers.
“Galerie, please proceed.”

The young man heaved himself up from his chair with a grunt. The Centurion handed him the flagrum. Galerius was surprised how heavy this “medium” weight whip was. The lead balls tied into the thongs added significant heft.

The Optio escorted the Filium Praesidis to the whipping post.
Up close to the young Goth, Galerius was again mesmerized by her beauty. The soft, fair curve of her back tapering down to the thin waist and then swelling again to those sexy hips was truly perfect. The lumbare, having only a thin band around her waist and an even smaller piece cutting up her crack, left Barbaria’s sweet asscheeks completely bare and presented. Antonious’s mind flashed back to yesterday when he’d slipped his manhood between those soft genas (cheeks) and into her warm, tight cunne.
Mogurix reached down and swept off the girl’s loincloth in one quick motion. She was now completely naked as well as being completely helpless. Galerius was struck dumb. He just stood and stared.

“Are you going to stare at those babies all day, or are you going to thrash them?” called Piso. The loud remark was heard throughout the atrium and greeted by laughter from most of the men.
Galerius looked around and blushed. Quickly regaining his usual bravado, he replied, “I’ll thrash them until there's nothing left for the milites to whip!”

Now things are moving ... The Eastern Roman emperor was already defeated and killed 5 years ago by the Goths (AD 378), another 12 years and the Roman Empire will be finally divided (AD 395) - the death sentence for the Western Empire in the times of the Great Migration. Another 27 years and the Visigoths occupy and plunder Rome (AD 410), from which the Western Roman Empire will never recover ... Let's see how this story continues in AD 383...

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Depiction of some of the "Barbarian" warriors who threatened the Roman Empire

 

[settantuno]

.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Although the young man had consumed a fair amount of wine at home with breakfast and again here waiting for the girl to appear, he was nowhere near as intoxicated as he had been the prior afternoon. Nevertheless, Galerius had to make an effort to stand still without weaving and concentrate on the task ahead of him.

Barbaria had turned to observe the young man's approach. Most of the Romans were indistinguishable devils to her. However, the fat bastard who'd bought her and treated her so brutally and then demanded her punishment and execution was easy to identify and to hate. She now focused all her resentment at her treatment and hatred at her tormentors on this one despicable specimen of the Roman nobility. She resolved to give him no satisfaction in her suffering. If it were at all possible, she would not allow any cry to escape her lips. But she certainly could insult the fat diabaulus (devil):
“Crassus, pinguis Porce (gross, fat piglet)!” Barb spat out the words.
“Still some fight in you, Goth lupa? I’ll whip it out of you.” His words were confident, but his voice betrayed his self-doubt and embarrassment at the well-aimed insult that provoked smiles and a bit of laughter among the onlookers. Hearing the merriment at his expense, Galerius was furious.
Without taking a moment to aim his blow, he took a short, quick backswing before driving the flagrum forward with all his might. As he did so, the folds of his toga twisted and hampered his swing.
Between the tangle of his clothes and the quick, wild swing, only the very ends of the thongs made grazing contact with his victim’s right shoulder.
Even so, the pain stunned the girl. But Barbaria didn't allow a sound from her lips except for a low grunt. A few small lines of red showed where the wires had barely cut her skin.
Seeing her first words had struck home, Barbaria verbally attacked again.
“Exite, dwala (go away, fool)!” said the girl, mixing Latin with Gothic. “Exi et exsorbe mammellas tuae matris obesae (go and suck dry your obese mother’s tits)!”
The humorous, sharply-barbed insult caused the whole atrium to erupt in laughter. Galerius blushed bright red in embarrassment and fury. The crude abuse of his beloved mother cut him deeply. His hurt caused the young aristocrat to lose control completely.
“Lupa (bitch)!" he shouted in a high, trembling voice, swinging the flagrum with all his might.
Unfortunately, in his rage, the young man had misjudged the distance. Though better aimed than his first failure, this stroke only managed to land half the tails and in only a glancing blow to her left flank.
The Goth bravely held her cry at this much more intense pain. Looking around at her tormentor, she goaded him again, “Is that all you can do, crassus puer (fat boy)? You swing that laittug (whip, Gothic) like a parva puella (little girl).” The words again drew raucous laughter from the crowd.
Galerius was enraged. No one in his whole life had dared call him fat. Now this Goth, facing a terrible scourging and death on the cross, was making fun over and over of his weight and his manhood. Almost blind with emotion, he screamed in a high, hoarse voice at his victim, “Sili lupa (Silence, bitch)!” Galerius swung the whip again. This time he had adjusted his position slightly, and the whip gained more purchase with several thongs impacting the small of her back. However, the wild effort wasted much of the strength of the blow. Nevertheless, the knotted thongs, weighted with lead balls, produced a punishing impact that drove the breath from the girl.
Gritting her teeth against the pain radiating from her lower back, Barbaria suppressed her groan. Lord, that last one hurt, she thought. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, the Goth refused to acknowledge the hurt. She wouldn't give this pig any satisfaction.
The Goth let loose a loud laugh. Turning her head, she looked at Galerius with a smirk on her face. "Thanks for the tickle, fat boy,” she taunted.

 

[twonines]

Great work, PrPr, the incompetence of the odious youth, Barb`s defiance and a brilliant description. Even 1700 years ago, Barb obviously had a sharp wit and retained the ability to enrage her punisher and increase the severity of her punishment.

 

[twonines]

.

Brilliant, just as I imagine it.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Brilliant, just as I imagine it.

As did I. Uncanny!

 

[montycrusto]

sharply-barbed insult

I see what you did there

 

[Fossy]

Although the young man had consumed a fair amount of wine at home with breakfast and again here waiting for the girl to appear, he was nowhere near as intoxicated as he had been the prior afternoon. Nevertheless, Galerius had to make an effort to stand still without weaving and concentrate on the task ahead of him.

Barbaria had turned to observe the young man's approach. Most of the Romans were indistinguishable devils to her. However, the fat bastard who'd bought her and treated her so brutally and then demanded her punishment and execution was easy to identify and to hate. She now focused all her resentment at her treatment and hatred at her tormentors on this one despicable specimen of the Roman nobility. She resolved to give him no satisfaction in her suffering. If it were at all possible, she would not allow any cry to escape her lips. But she certainly could insult the fat diabaulus (devil):
“Crassus, pinguis Porce (gross, fat piglet)!” Barb spat out the words.
“Still some fight in you, Goth lupa? I’ll whip it out of you.” His words were confident, but his voice betrayed his self-doubt and embarrassment at the well-aimed insult that provoked smiles and a bit of laughter among the onlookers. Hearing the merriment at his expense, Galerius was furious.
Without taking a moment to aim his blow, he took a short, quick backswing before driving the flagrum forward with all his might. As he did so, the folds of his toga twisted and hampered his swing.
Between the tangle of his clothes and the quick, wild swing, only the very ends of the thongs made grazing contact with his victim’s right shoulder.
Even so, the pain stunned the girl. But Barbaria didn't allow a sound from her lips except for a low grunt. A few small lines of red showed where the wires had barely cut her skin.
Seeing her first words had struck home, Barbaria verbally attacked again.
“Exite, dwala (go away, fool)!” said the girl, mixing Latin with Gothic. “Exi et exsorbe mammellas tuae matris obesae (go and suck dry your obese mother’s tits)!”
The humorous, sharply-barbed insult caused the whole atrium to erupt in laughter. Galerius blushed bright red in embarrassment and fury. The crude abuse of his beloved mother cut him deeply. His hurt caused the young aristocrat to lose control completely.
“Lupa (bitch)!" he shouted in a high, trembling voice, swinging the flagrum with all his might.
Unfortunately, in his rage, the young man had misjudged the distance. Though better aimed than his first failure, this stroke only managed to land half the tails and in only a glancing blow to her left flank.
The Goth bravely held her cry at this much more intense pain. Looking around at her tormentor, she goaded him again, “Is that all you can do, crassus puer (fat boy)? You swing that laittug (whip, Gothic) like a parva puella (little girl).” The words again drew raucous laughter from the crowd.
Galerius was enraged. No one in his whole life had dared call him fat. Now this Goth, facing a terrible scourging and death on the cross, was making fun over and over of his weight and his manhood. Almost blind with emotion, he screamed in a high, hoarse voice at his victim, “Sili lupa (Silence, bitch)!” Galerius swung the whip again. This time he had adjusted his position slightly, and the whip gained more purchase with several thongs impacting the small of her back. However, the wild effort wasted much of the strength of the blow. Nevertheless, the knotted thongs, weighted with lead balls, produced a punishing impact that drove the breath from the girl.
Gritting her teeth against the pain radiating from her lower back, Barbaria suppressed her groan. Lord, that last one hurt, she thought. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, the Goth refused to acknowledge the hurt. She wouldn't give this pig any satisfaction.
The Goth let loose a loud laugh. Turning her head, she looked at Galerius with a smirk on her face. "Thanks for the tickle, fat boy,” she taunted.

Wine with breakfast! Someone needs to convene the AA equivalent of the time!

The Goth slots defiance must surely be compounding Galerius' fury which will (hopefully) be to her ultimate detriment

 

[settantuno]

.

 

[Barbaria1]

.

Captured my tight little so exquisitely. Love these illustrations.

I see what you did there

All my insults are “barbed”

Galerius was enraged. No one in his whole life had dared call him fat. Now this Goth, facing a terrible scourging and death on the cross, was making fun over and over of his weight and his manhood. Almost blind with emotion, he screamed in a high, hoarse voice at his victim, “Sili lupa (Silence, bitch)!”

Galerius is such a fool. Great comic relief! Unfortunately such fools are ultimately dangerous.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

After only three efforts, Galerius was already panting loudly from the exertion, and beads of sweat broke out on his brow. This Goth bitch was making a fool of him! Be calm, he told himself, trying to catch his breath. Make this next one count.
Taking his time, he slowly drew the whip back and drove it forward to land flat on the girl's shoulders. This time the whip landed solidly, all the thongs and balls and wires making good contact.
Though the lad’s weakness kept him from delivering a truly punishing blow, Barbaria felt, for the first time, a taste of the terrifying pain that a Roman scrouging could inflict. Swallowing a cry of pain, she drew on the proud bravery of her tribespeople to lash out again at the fat Roman, “Lucky shot, crassa parva puella (gross little girl)! If you had any lacertos (muscles or sinews), it might have hurt.”

Galerius couldn’t believe that this girl was still taunting him – him, Filium Praeses! She was supposed to be begging for mercy at this point! He had to teach her a lesson. As he wound up his next blow, sweat dripped into his eyes and he was momentarily blinded. Only a few of the thongs made contact, this time with her round, pert, right buttcheek. While most of the force of the blow was wasted, the ends, sliding across the soft skin, opened several red cuts from the wires. Frustrated with his efforts, Antonious lashed out again, landing a wild blow, this time on her left forearm.
Six of his ten lashes were gone, and Galerius had inflicted surprisingly little damage. He was now bent over, his hands on his knees, panting hard and sweat pouring down his fat body. Even their officers' reproving looks did not keep the milites from chuckling and making derisive remarks under their breath.
Piso called out, "You look tired Galerie. Do you want Tertius Amelius to take over your last four with his fresh arm?" The whole assembly burst out laughing.

Friþugairns remained weeping on his knees for over a minute as the villagers gathered quietly and respectfully around their beloved leader. At last, he regained control and again stood tall among them. "Call my garaginondos (counselors) together, quickly," he instructed the young men around him in a soft, controlled voice. They hurried off to obey while the headman walked calmly toward the center of the camp clearing.
It was only a few minutes later that a half-dozen chiefs were gathered around the central campfire, waiting for the word of their leader.

“Þiufaþos meins (my companions),” the elder began, “I have sad news for our people. The Romans have arrested dauhtar meins (my daughter), Barbaþais.” Shock and outrage swept over the assembly.
“They say she is a criminal and have determined ushramjan (to crucify) her for her missadeþos (crimes).” The chiefs erupted in shouts of “Ni (no)!” “Ni aiw (never)!” and various curses!
One of the men spoke up and said, “We must lisan harjis nasjan (gather our host to save) her!” The rest of the chiefs joined in to shout agreement as one.

 

[twonines]

Another fine chapter, teasing us again, hinting that the brave, but headstrong, Barbara may be rescued. The Goths may arrive in time to prevent her crucifixion, but not the real scourging by the soldiers which is imminent.