Mark Morris: Spartacus: Morituri

“His eyes rolling like dice in head,” Solonius chuckled.

“Dice destined to never cease their roll,” Batiatus added.

As both men sniggered, Lucretia said, “I wonder if he is yet aware of the full extent of defeat.”

“He will have much time to reflect upon it as he searches gutters for discarded scraps of bread,” Batiatus said with savage satisfaction.

“Do you think that Crassus will truly ruin him?” Lucretia asked.

Both men nodded.

“Crassus’s reputation for punishing those who cross him is fearsome,” Solonius purred.

“I should like to witness such spectacle,” Lucretia said. “To study the Grecian’s face as layers of his life are stripped away.”

Solonius licked his lips.

“Your rumination of justice inflicted upon enemy devastates my heart with fervor, Lucretia,” he murmured.

As Lucretia grimaced, Batiatus said, “I should have liked the viewing of the man’s loyal poisoner pinned by Varro’s spear.” His eyes shining with relish, he added, “Doctore tells that he writhed as stuck animal.”

Lucretia’s lips twitched with amusement.

“Bizarre mishap of arena’s contest, but no less welcomed.”

Both men nodded, their faces solemn. Solonius said, “How do you suppose it happened?”

“The man placed himself in unfortunate position, with sightless eyes unable to see danger,” Batiatus said with a small shrug. “Nothing more than that. Doctore reported witness to it.”

All three looked at each other-and then burst out laughing. As they did so a woman entered the cubiculum.

Batiatus looked up-and a wriggle of pleasure passed through him. Here was another benefit of his victory over Hieronymus, each one a separate gem set within a glittering crown.

“Athenais,” he said. “Your quarters are to satisfaction I hope?”

Athenais nodded demurely.

“They are,” she concurred. “Gratitude for your hospitality.”

Lucretia arched an eyebrow at her husband and smiled sweetly at the Greek woman.

“It is we who are grateful for vital part played by you in Hieronymus’s downfall, plying his cup with our vengeance.”

“My vengeance also,” Athenais murmured, her cheeks flushing. She touched her bruised wrists almost subconsciously as she spoke the words.

“You need fear Mantilus no longer,” said Lucretia.

“Be assured, his ending was agonizing and prolonged.”

“It shames me to confess I am glad to hear it,” Athenais replied.

“Be not ashamed,” said Solonius. “The man was as monstrous as his appearance. His fate was deserved.”

Lucretia nodded. “Solonius speaks truth. Rejoice in his ending.”

It was during the party at Solonius’s villa the previous evening, after Lucretia had despatched Athenais to fetch wine, that the truth of the matter had emerged. Lucretia had followed the slave girl to Solonius’s cellars, and there she had discovered that it was not Athenais’s master, Crassus, who had been abusing her, but Hieronymus’s viper, Mantilus. The creature’s attentions had been brutal and persistent, but Crassus, noticing her bruises, had been misled by Hieronymus into believing that a household slave had been violating the girl-a slave who had been punished for his alleged misdemeanors by having his tongue and genitals removed, and who had subsequently died from the trauma of his injuries.

Athenais had been only too willing, therefore, to play her small but vital role in Hieronymus’s downfall, as a result of which Crassus-grateful not to be dragged deeper into the mire of deception and dishonor perpetrated by the Greek merchant, and therefore soiled by association with the man-had granted the girl her freedom. Now Athenais was a guest at the House of Batiatus while she awaited passage on a boat that would take her home.

“More wine,” Batiatus slurred, draining another cup and holding it out to be filled. “Come, Athenais, join us in celebration.” As a slave came forward to replenish their cups, another figure took a hesitant step into the cubiculum.

“Dominus?”

“Ah, Ashur,” Batiatus cried, waving a hand drunkenly in greeting. “Enter.”

Ashur did so, nodding at Solonius and Athenais, and then at Lucretia, who merely stared coldly back at him. He was holding a scroll of parchment, which he held out for Batiatus to take.

“A message, dominus, delivered this very moment.”

Putting his wine aside, Batiatus unrolled the parchment and read it. After a few moments he barked a laugh.

“From Crassus! He reports that Hieronymus’s house is aflame.”

“What is the cause?” Solonius enquired.

“He does not say. Only that fire rages out of control.”

“And what of Hieronymus himself?” Lucretia asked.

Batiatus made an attempt to look solemn.

“His whereabouts unknown, but feared trapped within inferno.”

Quickly Lucretia said, “What of coin owed to us for the wager laid with him?”

“Arranged by Crassus,” Batiatus replied, “the sum to be extracted from Hieronymus’s fortune.”

Lucretia smiled thinly. “The possibility of losing life to hot flames is regrettable.”

Solonius nodded. “A terrible tragedy,” he agreed.

Suppressing a grin Batiatus held up his half-empty cup. “Come, my friends! Let us toast memory of poor Hieronymus. A most grievous loss to us all.”