VII
Caesar Scipio nodded to the rodent-voiced organizer of the spectacle who in turn
nodded to his assistants. Slaves carrying placards ran around the bank of the
water surrounding the small mountain as Rasenna stood before the consul's box
seats. Without leaving his cushioned seat, Caesar Scipio proclaimed so that all
could hear, "Let the Games Begin!"
Rasenna looked to the slave nearest her and read the sign. It said The Escape of
the Royal Slave. Beyond the sign-bearer, she saw a squad of brown and red
uniforms rounding a side of the island. Turning to the opposite side, she saw
another group of soldiers.
All were rushing toward her. She had only one escape, and that was the water.
The escaping slave pivoted away from Scipio's direction and ran toward the bank.
Without hesitation she dove in. The new medium of water engulfed her. Rasenna
discovered the water ringing the fabricated island to be shallow and narrow. She
swam but a stroke before touching the opposite bank. Clambering up onto the
island, Rasenna chanced a quick look over her shoulder and saw that both groups
of soldiers were closer. She looked ahead. There were two roads winding around
the small mountain. She took the on to her right and ran.
Rasenna ignored the crowd noise and concentrated on running up the path. She
stopped for a moment, unsheathed the old sword and used its blade to pry off the
thorns crowning her head, careful not to further cut her injured scalp. The
crown broke apart, and she flung its two pieces into the water. She threw the
blade after it and ripped off the scabbard and belt. Free of its added weight,
she wiped her brow clear of fresh blood from opened cuts and continued running
up the path. She could not see them, but felt sure that by now the Romans were
on the island with her.
Ahead she spotted a small cliff. If it was as authentic as the rest of the
coliseum's island, the rocks imbedded in its wall should hold. Rasenna ran off
of the path, through shrubbery and began to climb up the rocky face.
Once on top, she ran. Soldier's voices could be heard. Rasenna came to another
outcrop of rocks and stopped. Blocking her way growled a mountain lion. It was
this beast that Rasenna had glimpsed before, during the parade. Now it was much
clearer. She braced herself against a sandy rise and did not dare move. The big
cat's teeth and jaws salivated. Yellow eyes locked on her fear.
Rasenna did what only came to mind; she screamed for help.
A group of Roman soldiers heard the scream and veered off the path they were
following and toward the sound. They burst through foliage and came across the
lion with its intended prey. They rushed forward to capture both.
Rasenna anticipated the animal's move. It panicked when the soldiers crashed
through behind it and turned on them. At that instant, she fled. As she ran, the
sounds of the cat and screams from the men were heard over the noise of the
coliseum crowd.
Scipio chortled to friends and complimented the aedile on the fine spectacle.
Eagerly he joined them in watching the drama before them unfold. The female ran
away and disappeared as the lion tore into the pack of men, swiping with its
claws at the soldiers. It pounced on one of them, knocking him backwards.
Together they rolled in the dust. The animal ripped and tore until at last
speared by a soldier. Its corpse lay amid mangled remains of humans.
All sheltered under the luxuriant shade agreed that the carnage provided an
excellent spectacle.
Rasenna ran higher up the hill, until she could run no more. Hands on her knees,
she panted for more air. To make faster progress, she had returned to the
winding road. Sweat dripping down her face, she looked up only to face the
second group of soldiers. She looked down the side of the mountain to the water.
Rapidly her mind remembered that it was this same predicament she had faced
before being captured. Then she had almost escaped by diving into the water. She
could try it again, but then it was a river leading to freedom...now the water
below was circular, and inside an arena.
From the source of the aqueduct feeding the coliseum's water one of aedilis's
assistants followed his instruction. Inflammable oil was added to the font, and
then ignited. Flames shot up as the oil floated on the surface of the watery
ring around the island.
Rasenna reacted to the sight of the flames with as much shock as many in the
coliseum, but for different reasons. Her plan to escape went up in smoke.
The leader of the second squad of soldiers signaled. Two of his men sailed the
heavy rope net. It knocked the female down as it fell over its mark. The ends
were quickly gathered and tied. The escaped slave was captured. He acknowledged
the cheers filling the coliseum, and then quickly ordered his men to begin
dragging the netted slave down the staged mountain.
Scipio enthusiastically applauded the spectacle's progress. Looking around the
filled tiers he saw the excitement of all. His loyal constituents would love him
for this entertainment, he knew, and little did they know that the best was yet
to come. He must do his very best to not disappoint.
They waited for the fires to extinguish and then crossed the stream. The wet
ropes were pulled off. Rasenna felt arms lift her to her feet. Water from being
dragged back through what she had hope was her escape cascaded down. Little
puddles formed around her toes. She faced where Scipio sat and did not see him
in the shadows, but recognized his voice.
"You gladiatrix, a common slave, are by our laws condemning criminals of
magnitude hereby sentenced to crucifixion. But as your execution site is
prepared up, atop our little mountain here, you shall behave as the true slave
you are."
From behind her she saw a two-wheeled cart pulled by slaves. A soldier
positioned her between two rods leading from the front of the cart and locked
her manacled wrists to the wood. Rasenna blinked her eyes in the direction of a
sad chain of nude men. As they walked closer, she recognized the four as the
survivors of her retinue. Each nodded to her as they walked past and stepped up
into the cart.
The stinging slap staggered. Her single braid was ripped apart. What was not
congealed spread in golden ringlets across shoulders. Rasenna cleared her eyes
and stared into the swarthy face of the veteran. Those spiteful eyes she would
not forget.
"Just something to get your attention...slave," the veteran said and parted
Rasenna's lips with leather from the thick whip he held. "Let's see just how you
can lead your men, shall we?" He laughed and stepped between the harnessed slave
and the outside of the coliseum wall. Uncoiling the whip he swung.
Rasenna gasped as the leather raked her back. She stumbled forward, but was held
by the weight of the cart. She jerked her head up as another lash crossed her
back. This time, the cart moved. Again the whip fell, and her legs began to pump
furiously.
Scipio and friends shared wine and delicacies provided by attendant slaves.
Between mouthfuls they cheered each appearance of the slave as she appeared from
behind the fake mountain's side. Most knew of her royal background and that
increased their pleasure as she was whipped to pull the cart faster.
The men chained in the bed of the cart were jostled as it picked up speed. The
older soldier with the whip ran alongside, unmerciful in his use of the lash.
The thin leather of her top quickly became frayed. A roar from the far side of
the coliseum announced its destruction. Scipio nudged those closest. When the
Etruscan appeared after completing another lap, she ran topless. Frivolity mixed
with lust welcomed the sight. Free of what held them more or less in place, the
full breasts wobbled and danced. One shiny globe with its pink tip bounced up as
its sister fell down with every Etruscan stride. Her legs felt ready to give out
as she ran.
Rasenna felt her chest about to explode. A hand grabbed her hair and wrenched
her to a stop. She collapsed to her knees, chained wrists still holding back her
shoulders and arms, chest heaving as it gasped for air.
The voice she recognized boomed from out of the shadows again as it said, "Not
bad, slave. Remain on your knees. In a moment you shall carry your cross up to
the summit, but first, you need to say farewell to your people..."
Blood pounded in her head so loudly she could hardly hear, at least that is what
Rasenna wished to believe. Her worst fears were confirmed when she saw the bare
male feet stop just in front of where she knelt. Sweat streaming down her face,
Rasenna looked up the naked body and recognized the face of Cutu, her
lieutenant.
Her eyes widened when she saw the veteran stand next to Cutu and order him to
lift up his cock. Reluctantly, he lifted up the member, only inches from
Rasenna's lips. The veteran Roman soldier pushed the pack of her head forward.
Her lips opened. She sucked the warm cock.
Scipio was overcome by a fit of giggles as the kneeling Etruscan sucked. He
burst out in guffaws and applauded the veteran's sense of timing when he raised
up the sharpened blade of his sword.
Rasenna's eyes opened wide when she heard the horrid scream and felt the hot
blood splash her face. She spat the penis from her mouth and cried as Cutu
rolled in agony on the ground. She watched him bleed to death, the severed
genitalia laying alongside.
Her stomach heaved, and Rasenna retched. A rag smeared away gore from her face
and she saw another had replaced Cutu. Before her stood Thucer. The nightmare of
Cutu fresh in her mind, Rasenna reasoned that it would actually be better for
her to do her oral best. That way, the men would die more quickly from blood
loss. She dove for Thucer's member and used her tongue to harden him.
Two of her own men lay dead next to her.
The next was Rasce, and she bobbed her head over his shaft. He soon fell with
his brethren.
The last was Larth. The young man was her lover, as well as friend. They had
celebrated their closeness at many an Etruscan banquet, dancing after each
syndeipnow, or sumptuous meal. Rasenna tried retching, but was only racked by
dry heaves. A hand brusquely slapped her head forward. Her mouth swallowed
Larth's cock.
Some from Scipio's party made excuses to leave after the bloodied bodies were
kicked into the artificial river, but Scipio commanded them to stay. The best,
he assured them, was yet to come. In a sense, his exhortations proved prophetic.
A slave collar, especially fashioned with a cord piercing the severed genitalia,
was draped over the Etruscan's shoulders. Released from the cart she fell to all
fours, collar dangling down. Quickly raised back up to her knees, a heavy
crossbeam was settled behind her neck, her arms tied to the wood. With some
help, she staggered to her feet and was led to cross the water. Scipio watched
with the others as her first foot splashed into the stream.
Workers had been busy during the other spectacle proceedings. On the summit of
the faux mountain they had erected a timber that climbed high into the
blistering sky, well above the highest point of the coliseum. Finished securing
its base, they gathered tools and followed supervisors back down the slope. On
their way down they met the condemned slave struggling under the heavy beam as
she labored up the path.
