Spurtacus is a who-dunnit meets Swords and S(c)andals, with plenty of naughty bits of course in about 7 (or more) acts. Think Bridgerton meets Spartacus with twice the amount of raunch and some other bonus cleverdicking for the people who manage to pick up on it.
Last time in Spurtacus we've seen that Lucius, AKA Spurtacus, to his lovers, is charged to lead an investigation into in fact himself. As he’s cleverly trying to avoid suspicion by setting up a fake investigation, he happens to overhear that Messalina actually suspects him and has set a spy on his tail. He tries to find out who the spy is and lose her, so as to continue his busy social calendar.
In this Act we get a peek into Messalina’s private quarters and thoughts and what else happens behind closed doors when no one is looking.
Act V
Imperial Palace
The private quarters of The Empress
The extensive luxury bathroom
‘Mom, look the horse was this colour.’ Octavia held up a paint brush with a dab of paint on it. She’d spent the last ten seconds mixing and matching colours till the off-whitish greyish mix was correct. It looked like the grey that some horses indeed were. With hints of blue and specks of ochre in them. She had a good eye for colours and colour mixing. ‘Very good Octavia. That looks real lifelike. I wonder if you can make a painting and make his mane dance on the vellum. What colour was his mane?’ Octavia took a new brush and started remembering and mixing feverishly.
The glass tinkled as she cleaned the brush and sloshed a bit. Sabina, ever-present, quickly nodded to one of the other slaves, who cleaned the spill before the paint stained the marble of the expansive bathroom permanently, requiring serious scouring and sanding. A new colour was produced. ‘I think it’s actually the same colour as his eyes. His eyes gleamed. Different from the gloss on his manes.’
Lucius’ mane had a gloss as well. .. Messalina pulled her thoughts back, but noticed from the corner of her eye that Chloe smiled that knowing smirk of hers. As did Sabina. They knew her too well. Which wasn’t weird of course. Chloe had grown up with her. And Sabina had basically raised her. As she was now in charge of raising Britannicus and Octavia. Through many proxies of course. But Sabina was an as capable administrator as her husband’s freedmen. Perhaps even better.
‘Are you doing test swatches on the vellum? You shouldn’t waste expensive vellum like that.’ ‘But it looks different on papyrus when comparing it to vellum.’ Octavia complained in that tone of her, that could mollify Claudius to give into anything. And Messalina was bound to give in too. Octavia looked at her mother pleadingly and it only took about three breaths for her to give in and nod and shrug her shoulders to Sabina, signalling I’ll allow this indulgence, this once. Everyone in the room knew that it wouldn’t be just this once. But Octavia was loved by all in the room, so everyone indulged her.
Britannicus’ lot in life was similar yet slightly different. He was currently being bathed, attended to. He needed to grow up to become the Emperor. He needed to understand duty. Hardship. Indulgence. But also Rules, Fairness, Politics and so much more. She felt herself choke up, at the thought of him having to do actual soldiers training. Sword training. He swung around his wooden sword at every possible instance. He loved challenging the Praetorians who’d pretend to be wounded grievously each time he pointed in their general direction. They loved their Emperor to be. . they’d also have loved Caligula. ..
Empress of the Known World. She looked at Sabina. Born a slave. Sabina had more freedom than her. The matronae had more freedom than Sabina. They could leave their houses on a whim without it causing a minor meltdown in the Praetorian Guard, who’d have to scramble a contingent to clear the route, the place she was planning to visit, the way back, two alternative routes for if things went pear shaped. And about fifty slaves, fussing with her clothes, her hair, running to and fro between secretaries of dignitaries, cancelling appointments, rescheduling audiences, making sure the people she’s about to visit don’t offend her or worse Rome. As she IS Rome. Or rather Claudius is. And by extension she is the mother of Rome. The Consort of Rome.
If Britannicus stubs his toe, Rome is hurt. If the Mother of Rome. . perish the thought, had feelings for this Spurtacus. .. like the Matronae. . or for that matter anyone else. They wouldn’t survive the day. Probably put to death within the hour. No judge, no jury, no trial, no nothing. Rome’s honor would have been hurt. And the Mother of Rome could of course not be at fault. It must have been all a devious plan to hex her. Surely it could only have been adverse magic that caused the assailant to be able to get close to her. Her purity would have protected her otherwise.
Quietly shaking her head at the depressing thoughts of her lack of actual freedom, she felt restive. She knew that if she wanted, she could shed her clothes and walk outside to the adjoining balcony totally naked. The Praetorians stationed there would chastely avert their eyes. They wouldn’t even consider studying her figure. She felt like how a gelded horse must feel. Only she didn’t have balls and a sac that had been removed. Still it felt the same. She was sex-less. And she wanted to be desired. She had been desired before she’d been married to Claudius. And Claudius himself desired her. But it was different. It felt different. The rest of the world had stopped looking at her in lust, desire. The rest of the world now only saw the future Mother of the Republic.
‘Domina looks like she could do with a relaxing bath.’ Sabina knew her moods and ordered the bathing of Britannicus to be concluded. He ran to his mother with his ever present sword. ‘Mom, look what I can do!’ He attacked a nearby slave, who perished dramatically from just looking at the sword. Britannicus giggled in delight. He then walked to the slave and helped her up, telling her that she was lucky cause it wasn’t a killing blow, only one that incapacitated. He gave her permission to have her wounds tended by the medicus. But don’t drink the green medicine. It tastes horrible.
‘If you’re nice the medicus will mix the green medicine with honey. I’m guessing you killed the medicus once too often.’ Octavia said matter-of-factly. Britannicus hung his shoulders and head in silent shame. He knew his sister disapproved of his fighting. But it was so exciting. ‘Mom, can we see Father before bed-time tonight?’ ‘I’ll ask his secretaries to try to fit it in. I can’t promise anything. You know how his schedule can get overwhelming fast.’ Both kids nodded seriously. A gaggle of slaves quietly ushered them outside, so The Empress could have her bath in privacy.
Messalina snorted at the idea. Her private bath was attended to by at least twelve slaves, fetching water, stoking the furnaces underneath the bath, fetching perfumes, oils, soaps, towels, clothes. And that’s not counting Chloe, Sabina and the ever-present Praetorians. As she stepped out of her robes and let them drop on the floor behind them, assuming they’ll disappear without a trace, with a new one available for her for after the bath, she walked into the shallow bath. Sabina joined her, as did Chloe. Sabina under the pretense of bringing her the Acta Diurna to read and Chloe to help wash her and ferry odds and ends to her if the need arose.
OK, she had to admit there were some advantages to being the Empress of the Known World. She hadn’t touched a knife or pumice stone for over a decade now, probably longer. She was as hairless as Octavia. Her skin without a single blemish. And supple all over. And the soft massages whilst they were bathing her, were very relaxing. Especially when they came to her mid section. Sabina knew exactly which buttons to push and help her relax. Her breath hitched in her throat and she clamped down on Sabina when it came. She couldn’t help herself as her legs became wobbly and needed to be steadied by Sabina. A tear of joy formed in the corner of her eye. She breathed out: ‘Thank you, I needed that’. Sabina gently kissed the top of her head. It irked Messalina. It wasn’t a lovers’ kiss. It was matronly. It was caring. It was loving. Like she kissed the tops of the heads of her own children.
She wanted to be possessed. Claudius kissed her like that too. On the top of the head or a chaste peck on the lips. Not one where she felt like she was being devoured. She’d heard the stories from the Matronae. Chloe understood her restlessness and kissed her more passionately then Sabine had done. It was better. It was wilder. More abandon. And then always the check in her eyes if she was still OK with it. Messalina bristled. She disengaged and said: ‘I’m sorry. Thank you.’ She grabbed the Acta Diurna and started reading it. She looked at Chloe and pulled her not ungently by the wrist and sat her down next to her. Then she submerged the wrist to her groin and Chloe played with her, whilst The Empress of the Known World sampled a cup of sweet wine and read the Acta Diurna.
‘Look here, it says that our man was seen last night in the bath house on the other side of town.’ Chloe pretended to read along and nodded her head in confirmation. ‘Yes, he was in the company of a staunch ally from his legion days. It was said that he felt unsafe walking the streets of Rome alone at that hour of night.’ ‘What is this world coming to?’ Sabina said whilst shaking her head. ‘Honest Roman citizens can’t walk around alone at night anymore.’ ‘Yes. Same was true for the women he met there. It might be a mistake though. As onlookers said that they thought they saw the ancilla of the cinnamon merchant enter the bathhouse twice. They must have been drunk. To see a person walk in twice.’ ‘Oh, is that the same cinnamon that we use to sweeten this wine? That we bought from the Cassia household? Didn’t Valeriana gift it to me?’ Sabina pretended to think and then confirmed by nodding. ‘I think it was that very house, indeed.’
‘Did you know by the way that most Romans are scared of the Praetorians? There was talk of a gruff Praetorian scaring the living daylights out of a slave girl yesterday at the market, near where your honored father bought those honey cakes.’ Chloe asked to Sabina. Sabina nodded once again. ‘Most of those Praetorians scare me too. Though I wouldn’t know them if they weren’t in uniform. It’s so hard to recognise them outside of uniform.’ Messalina had a giggling fit. ‘Especially if they’re NOT wearing their uniform.’ She splashed Sabina playfully.
‘Well, I would recognise at least one.’ Sabina said lowering her eyes. ‘Do tell.’ Messalina invited the gossip. ‘Well, I’d have to admit that I’d mostly know him by feel.’ Sabina mimicked holding on to a set of buttocks and being penetrated. ‘You’re scandalous!’ Messalina giggled.
‘So he’s able to move in and out. ..’ giggles interrupted the sentence, it took a while for the three of them to regain their composure. ‘OK. Let’s try again. He’s able to move. .. anywhere and anyhow. As he can simply change his appearance. Access is gained by station. And suspicion is swayed by lack there of.’ Chloe nodded confirming her domina’s summation. ‘And he knows what he’s doing, not just in skills of avoiding being spotted or followed but also when he’s with his marks, I’ve heard.’
‘How do the people not lose track of him if he’s that good?’ ‘The people have practised being invisible even more then him. And the people know he’s watching them. So it’s a reverse case of quis custodiet custos? But it does tax the people to the limit of their abilities. It takes many eyes, trusted ones at that. Those don’t come cheap.’ ‘I’m guessing the people will need to have new public works opened and purses disbursed to them for their efforts.’ ‘Yes, that is unfortunately unavoidable.’ ‘Sabina will see to it, as is her duty. I’m assuming I can do some kind of temple donation and thus let the populace benefit.’
The conversation changed to what the populace would benefit more from. A rosegarden to lift spirits or a statue of the Emperor on a horse. The slaves around and underneath the bath were none the wiser as to what was being discussed. Neither were the Praetorians. If they knew what was good for them, they pretended to be blind and deaf. To acts and dealings not directly involving them. And if they did pick up things, the triumvirate of females in that room had their own way of making sure that the meaning of what they exchanged was so garbled for casual listeners, that they’d have trouble making sense of it all.
‘Domina looks ready to receive the Emperor.’ Sabina declared at a certain point. ‘Shall I fetch The Herbs.’ She managed to drop in the capital letters in the sentence. Nothing else needed to be said. A small sealed jar was produced from a small pouch on Sabina’s private belt. All women knew that scent. The ones that didn’t tended to die in childbirth eventually. The Empress took her dose and rested in the security that despite loving her husband, she wouldn’t be burdened with the dangers of a pregnancy without there being a need for one.
She had two kids. Healthy ones at that. Far beyond the grasp of childhood sicknesses that could lay ruin to a house with chills and fevers and cries and petitions to the gods left unanswered so often. So now she used the silphium. Or rather, her ancilla happened to keep some high quality grade of the stuff. And well, that was only to be expected. She couldn’t have her ancilla robbed from her by an unplanned pregnancy. And with the amount of rapes that slave women had to endure, it was only smart to have her take silphium. She of course never would partake. If the gods wanted the Emperor to have more children, they’d happen. As ordained. As Rome wanted.
‘Has the senate devised a plan for capture yet? And confrontation? And prevent falling out? And thus preventing a repeat of the Herod situation which we all remember with distaste?’ Messalina inquired to the air. Chloe waved the big fan and shook her head. ‘I’m guessing the virtue of the women is the problem. It’ll take down entire houses. Breeding lines?’ Chloe nodded again imperceptibly.
A careful onlooker could see her moving her hand on the long handle of the flabella she was using to fan her domina. It had intricate decorative carvings on it. And rings. And roman numerals and single letters between the rings. Her index finger pointed to the XII. It was Messalina’s turn to nod. If she acted in haste, twelve noble houses could fall to ruin. Something to be avoided.
‘I’m guessing the senate has their work cut out for them. Perhaps they need advisors? Or more temple donations?’ Chloe shook her head imperceptibly once again. ‘Well, time it is then. Time tends to solve a lot of problems. People tend to die eventually. Vigour runs out for everyone.’
Messalina had to look closely to the pole handle. Chloe pointed to icons. A thumb up and a thumb down. Both yes and no. So a maybe. A sigh escaped her. ‘I’m not sure about these women though. They’re taking more and more chances. He’s competent. He wouldn’t get caught in flagrante delicto. It’s the women that are in danger of discovery. Silphium doesn’t always win. Sometimes the gods play with women’s fates.’
‘Are we sure it’s him and not his friend that he took with him yesterday?’ Chloe nodded imperceptibly once again and moved her finger to the thumbs up icon. Messalina frowned. And then asked the air again: ‘The friend has a scar on his right hand, right. He must have caught a sword. And our man, has no scars, no blemishes, no calluses. It’s what makes him attractive to the Matronae. He’s unmarred.’ Chloe nodded again. Her finger never left the icon.
The Empress nodded. ‘I wished he wasn’t free. That would make matters so much easier. Simply castrate him and be done with it. By a medicus. With proper pain herbs.’ She looked at Chloe directly. The other flabellifer disappeared. She knew when she wasn’t wanted and really shouldn’t listen in. ‘Can you give him silphium? To stop his ardour? His seed?’ ‘Not without him knowing domina. The pungency can’t be hidden. It’d be obvious to him and everyone around him. And it’s not a guarantee. As it isn’t with women.’ The urgent whispered exchange was left at that.
Duty beckoned. The messenger girls appeared. That meant that the Claudius had come back to the palace. Spurtacus would have to wait for his just desserts.
Continued in Act VI