Franklin Spartacus

73 v. Chr.
1. Auflage 2023
ISBN: 978-3-7578-9647-8
Verlag: BoD - Books on Demand
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 252 Seiten

Prologue "...some are marked out for subjection... he, who is by nature not his own but another's man, is by nature a slave; and he may be said to be another's man who, being a human being, is also a possession." Aristotle, Politics, 1254b1-21. Year 73 B.C. Nothing foretold an uprising when a small group of gladiators managed their escape from the school in Capua.Rapidly develops a wildfire, spreading across the entire land. Under the leadership of the Thracian Spartacus, they defeated the Roman legions time and time again, - forces renowned for their victories across the known world. Advanced as far as the Alps they did, before turning south once more in a bid to escape the peninsula Spartacus, a Thracian, not really tangible from the mists of history, - compared to Hannibal or Alexander, there are hardly any written records about him. Hannibal is, above all, the battle of Cannae. Spartacus has no recorded battle that eclipses all others, no crossing of the Alps, only a tale told in familiar strains, shaped more by legend than by history. This novel attempts to portray the uprising as, -»The Attempt Of The Impossible«. The film Blade-Runner (despite a completely different genre) has been a blueprint for the form of making the impossible, subtly, visible. There is no similarity to the plot, or the characters, it is the form/idea of depicting the impossibility of an undertaking.

Adrian Franklin is a pseudonym. Aside this book a german edition of this novel was already published.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Franklin, Adrian

Leseproben

Chapter 3.

Old Veteran

Before sunrise, Aedil Gratus rises from his bed. He was already looking forward to that day. This day, which is the last one, before the start of the gladiatorial games in the arena and on which a big banquet will take place. Fancy dishes are served to the gladiators, wine flows freely, women go from hand to hand. Whoever so desires can partake in these orgies of despair until dawn.

Gratus has the gladiators harnessed and crammed into the carriages. In the narrow streets, progress is slow. When the last carriage turns onto the Porta Lavernalis, he stays back a bit and waits anxiously. . Already the first wagon breaks out.

»Haaalt!«, he hears the driver shouting and steers his horse to the other side for he enjoys this sight again and again. . »Look«, he says addressing the driver, »they're given a chance to fight and die like men, and then they cowardly stick their heads in the spokes and pathetically transporting themselves to the afterlife.« Watching the man's horrified face, he waits to see what he will do, to rid himself of the ballast that has been created.

»No! No! Not with the sword!«, he snaps at him. »You see!? The head is still on. So! Lift the carriage, turn the wheel back and pull that coward out.« Then he watches after the column which has meanwhile moved on. He should follow, but still remains in his place.

The carriage is laboriously lifted and the wheel turned back. He watches the dangling head with amusement. , he thinks, . Finally he turns away and drives his horse after the column.

The head of the column has reached the south end of the arena. It swarms with people, surrounded by flute playing and the singing of pleasure boys, they indulge in the waves of orgy. Gratus gives his horse to a slave and greedily jumps on it. At late hour his body slaves try to take their drunken master with them, yet get kicked nasty by his feet. Laboriously they can make him understand that it is his will, since soon guards will be sent out to drive the people apart, to have the gladiators well rested, able for combating and waring, be combative and warlike.

*

Senator Tiberius gives his sedan chair bearers a quick wave, he wants to reach the arena during the break. Rigorously, the bearers make their way through the throng. He closes the white curtains.

Now and then he peers through a slit into the alleys, which are littered with merchants whose wares pile up under the projecting arcades of the houses. Passing flute players, jugglers, whores hawking their dances, the sedan chair pushes its way through the shimmering heat.

Arriving at last in the arena, he hurries down the steps to the ranks of the senators. In front of him and behind him incessant din. »Burn him! ... Whip him!.. Why does he go so fearfully toward the sword? ...Why does he not die joyfully?«

, he finds it uncomfortable, even hates it.

He feels glances in the neck, unbridled rage rises in him. Fleeing from all the tugging sensations, he throws himself into the rage of the others, craving for heated combat, for bloodthirsty battle. All afternoon he remains in the arena, clenching his fists, screaming his throat hoarse, feasting on the carnage that takes place in all imaginable forms.

Towards evening he leaves the arena. Visibly weakened by the exertion, he visits one of the thermal baths and, after an extensive hot steam bath, has his limbs massaged with warm oils. Finally, these hours are over too. Chased by his bustling spirit, he leaves the thermal baths, hole up into his sedan chair and harshly tells the slaves to set off, yet after short time, the sedan chair is stopped by guards.

»A fire has broken out«, the captain lets him know. »We’ve strict orders not to let anyone through.«

Tiberius pulls the curtains of the sedan chair aside, and the captain frightens. He recognized his counterpart immediately. In the light of torches, this face looks even more menacing. The oversized eyes, the pinched mouth, a narrow, protruding nose, all this on a head that is always slightly tilted back, reinforcing the fearsome impression. In a low, almost breathy voice, he answers the captain: »I'm Senator Tiberius.

So go ahead. Clear the way.«

»"I ask Forgiveness«, the captain swallows his saliva, but ultimately relieved not to have stuttered, not to have stammered, and thus not to have given a too obvious sign, which the character of this creature would easily interpret as an affront to himself. »the fire is spreading very quickly. There is little water in this district. It is mostly the houses of the lower classes. The streets are very narrow, so if a panic breaks out ...«

»I don't plan to spend the night there, now clear the way«, Tiberius hisses between his teeth. Then, without waiting for an answer, he beckons his bearers to move on. Quickly he forces them down the street and lets them turn into one of the narrow alleys. Young, dancing flesh he had seen here. After all the weary plagues of the day, he feels an insatiable desire. But the streets are deserted. Tiberius lets move on to the next bend and suddenly noise is heard, quickly approaching.

The street, here steeply sloping, gives view of the district below. Horrified, Tiberius lets stop. The city, to his right, a conflagra-tion, flames blazing high from the houses.

He looks around nervously. Whereas the narrow alleys were deserted a moment ago, they are now overflowing with fleeing people who are calling out in panic for relatives. Then, a house next to him, bursts into flames. Dense crowds now surrounding him. He orders his bearers to make a way for themselves.

Panic seizes him, which expresses itself in childish irascibility. »Out of the way, you wretched creatures!«, he shouts into the crowd, occasionally striking out with a rod at those who come too close to his sedan chair. Yet all his rage and angry gestures cannot save the sedan chair from becoming a plaything of the surging crowd. For a moment he thinks of handing out rods to his bearers, but immediately rejects the idea. This seems too dangerous even for him.

Suddenly he recognizes his bodyguard in the crowd. Catulus, his steward, was worried and had sent them after him. The five horsemen surround the sedan chair. Hesitantly, but more swiftly than before, the column pushes through the streets. Tiberius is relieved. Entrusting himself completely to his guards, he hides behind the curtains again, yet cannot stop the noise of the fearful people.

Then, suddenly, a long standstill again. Tiberius listens, but can only catch a few scraps of words: »Gladiators...need horses...wagons...smoke...up the streets.«

Peering outside, Tiberius recognizes the Lanista from Capua.

»No, no! Go on, go on, I say!«, he roars in a screeching voice. Batiatus jumps to avoid being trampled by the horses. He looks resignedly after the sedan chair. Eventually, he works his way back to his men with his strong elbows and tells them that they must try with only one horse. Since no one contradicts him, he hurries them up the street to the last of his bronze gladiator wagons. When he sees the thick plumes of smoke that are drifting up from a side street, completely enveloped the wagon already, he considers turning around for a moment, but heavy coughing can be heard. As the horse remains surprisingly calm, Batiatus lets them go on. , he hopes.

*

Batiatus lost eighty men in the recent fighting in Rome, ten of them as a result of smoke poisoning from the fire. Ten gladiators who had proven themselves in the arena, a bitter loss that will be difficult to compensate. But replacements must be found for the others, as a beast-baiting is imminent. So he sends Apulejus to the optimate Cornelius Serbius, a pupil of the patrician family and notorious for the miserable treatment of slaves, also known as a gambler, but of low intelligence. While his slaves toil in the fields, for up to sixteen hours, always driven by the lashes of the guards, he gets through enormous sums in drinking bouts, accompanied by games of dice, almost ruining himself with the payment of bribes, in the elections a year ago.

Generally, Batiatus does this task himself. When it comes to select useful men, he trusts no one. But in this particular case, it seems to him that Apulejus should be sent. With his lethargic, slightly humble manner, he has the appropriate demeanour towards an individual of the nobility, ruled by a craving for prestige.

*

»So. You came to buy some slaves from me«, Cornelius' voice sounds angry, reproachful, mad. »What sum are you thinking of?«

»I would have to see them for that«, Apulejus replies in a cautious, subdued voice, careful not to question the patrician.

»Oh, her condition is splendid«, Cornelius goes on in his rasping voice, »you could hardly find better for your school than with me. The hard field work strengthens their bodies as well as your gymnastic exercises.« Suddenly he spits the morsel of meat he just put in his mouth onto the floor and calls out to one of the slave girls standing motionless in the back of the room....