“I don’t weep for Spartacus. No one will ever weep for Spartacus. They will never forget Spartacus either.”
“Ah, Varinia, Varinia—how foolish you are! Already Spartacus is only a ghost, and tomorrow that ghost will blow away. Ten years from now no one will remember his name. Why should they? Is there any history of the Servile War? Spartacus did not build; he only destroyed. And the world remembers only those who build.”
“He built hope.”
“Varinia, you repeat things like a little girl. He built hope. Hope for whom? And where are those hopes today? Blown away, like ashes, like dust. Don’t you see that there is no other way in the world and never will be—but for the strong to rule the weak? Varinia, I love you. Not because you are a slave, but in spite of the fact.”
“Yes—”
“But Spartacus was pure,” he said bitterly.
“Yes, Spartacus was pure.”
“Tell me. Tell me how he was pure.”
“I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you things you don’t understand.”
“I want to understand him. I want to fight him. I fought him when he was alive and I’ll fight him now that he is dead.”
She shook her head. “Why do you keep after me like this? Why don’t you sell me? Why don’t you do what you want with me? Why don’t you leave me alone?”
“I ask you to tell me a simple thing, Varinia. Was there such a man as Spartacus at all? Why can’t anyone tell me of him?”
“I told you—” She stopped, and he said gently now,
“Go on, Varinia. Go on. I want to be your friend. I don’t want you to be afraid to talk to me.”
“I’m not afraid. I was never afraid again after I knew Spartacus. But it’s hard to talk about him. You call him a murderer and a butcher. But he was the best and noblest man that ever lived.”
“Yes—tell me how. I want you to tell me how. I want to understand what he did to make you think that. Maybe if I understand it, I can be like Spartacus.” He had gone on drinking without tasting the food. His irony was quiet now. “Maybe I can be like Spartacus.”
“You make me talk about it, but how can I explain? Men and women are not the same among slaves as with you. Among slaves, a man and a woman are equal. We work the same; we are lashed the same; we die the same, and we go into the same nameless graves. And at the beginning, we took up spears and swords and fought alongside of our men. Spartacus was my comrade. We were one. We were joined together. Where he had a scar, I had only to touch it and then it hurt me and it was my scar. And always, we were equal. When his best friend, Crixus, died, he put his head in my lap and cried and whimpered like a little boy. And when my first baby came still born in six months, I cried the same way, and he took care of me. In all his life, he never had another woman than me. And no matter what happens, I have no other man. The first time I lay in his arms, I was afraid. Then a wonderful feeling came over me. I knew I would never die. My love was immortal. Nothing could hurt me again. I became like him, and I guess he became a little like me. We had no secrets from each other. First I used to be afraid that he would see the blemishes on my body. Then I knew that a blemish was the same as pure skin. He loved me so. But what can I tell you of him? They want to make him a giant, but he wasn’t a giant. He was an ordinary man. He was gentle and good and filled with love. He loved his comrades. They would embrace each other and kiss each other on the lips when they met. I never saw men among you Romans embrace or kiss, yet here men sleep with men as easily as they sleep with women. Whenever Spartacus said something to me, I knew what he meant. But I don’t know what you mean. I don’t know what the Romans mean when they speak. When the slaves would fight and bicker, Spartacus would call them together, and they would all talk, and then he’d talk to them and they’d listen. They did bad things, but they always wanted to be better. They were not alone. They were a part of something; they were a part of ea ch other, too. At first they used to steal from the spoils. Spartacus showed me how they couldn’t help that; they came from places where they saw stealing. But the common store was never locked or guarded, and when they saw that they could have all they needed without stealing, and no way to use what they stole, they stopped stealing. They lost their fear of being hungry and poor. And Spartacus taught me that all the bad things men do, they do because they are afraid. He showed me how men could change and become fine and beautiful, if only they lived in brotherhood and shared all they had among them. I saw this. I lived through it. But in some way, the man I had for my own was always like that. That’s why he could lead them all. That’s why they listened to him. They weren’t just murderers and butchers. They were something like the world never saw before. They were the way people can be. That’s why you can’t hurt me. That’s why I can’t love you.”
“Get out of here,” Crassus said to her. “Get out of my sight, God damn you!”
VI
Gracchus called Flavius again. The two men were sharing a destiny. They looked more like brothers than ever, two fat, aging men. They sat and looked at each other with knowledge. Gracchus was aware of the tragedy of Flavius. Flavius had always attempted to be like other men who succeeded, but he never was. Gesture for gesture, he copied them, but in the end he was only an imitation. He was not even a fraud; he was only an imitation of a fraud. And Flavius looked at Gracchus and saw that the old Gracchus was gone; gone away and not to come back anymore. What awful thing had happened to Gracchus, he only suspected; but the suspicion was enough. Here he had found a protector, and now his protector could no longer protect him. This was something to happen, all right!
“What do you want?” asked Flavius. “Don’t start in at me again. It’s Varinia. I’ve got the confirmation of that, if you want it. The wife of Spartacus. What do you want from me now?”
“What are you afraid of?” Gracchus demanded. “I don’t go back on people who’ve helped me. What on earth are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid of you,” Flavius said miserably. “I’m afraid of what you’re going to ask me to do. You could call out the City Cohorts if you wanted to. You have your own gangs and your own plug-uglies, and there are whole wards where you can turn out every citizen to do a job for you. Then why don’t you? Why do you come to an old has-been like me? Not has-been. I’ve never been anything but a cheap heeler, never. Why don’t you go to your friends?”
“I can’t,” said Gracchus. “On this I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you know why? I want that woman. I want Varinia. I tried to buy her. I offered Crassus a million
sesterces,
and then I doubled the price. He insulted me and laughed in my face.”
“Oh—no, no—two million! Two million!” Flavius began to tremble at the thought. He licked his heavy lips and clenched and unclenched his hands. “Two million. That’s the whole world. The whole world in a little bag. You carry it around with you, and you have the whole world. And you offered that for a woman. My God, Gracchus—why do you want her? I’m not just asking to pry into your secrets. You want me to do something for you, but I’m going out of here right now if you don’t tell me. I have to know why you want her.”
“I love her,” Gracchus answered dully.
“What!”
Gracchus nodded. He had no dignity left now. He nodded and his eyes became red and watery.
“I don’t understand. Love? What in the devil is love? You’ve never married. No woman’s ever gotten her fingers into you. Now you say you love a slave girl enough to pay two million
sesterces
for her. I don’t understand that.”
“Do you have to understand it?” the politician growled. “You couldn’t understand it. You look at me and I’m old and fat and you’ve always suspected I was a capon anyway. Make what you want of it. I never knew a woman who was a human being; how many of our women are? I’ve feared them and hated them. Maybe we made them that way—I don’t know. Now I want to go crawling on my knees to this woman. I want her to look at me just once and tell me that I mean something to her. I don’t know what Crassus is to her—but I can understand what she means to him. I can understand that, all right. But what can he mean to her? He’s the man who destroyed her husband—the man who smashed Spartacus. How can she look at him without loathing and hatred?”
“Women can,” Flavius nodded. “Crassus can raise the price indefinitely. You would be surprised.”
“Oh, you’re wrong as hell, you fat fool! You stupid fat fool!”
“Don’t start that again, Gracchus.”
“Then don’t talk like an idiot. I want the woman. You know what the price is.”
“You mean that you will pay—”
“Yes.
“You know what the consequences are?” Flavius said carefully. “Not for me. If I bring it off, I’ll take the money and go to Egypt and buy a villa and some slave girls in Alexandria and live there like a satrap the rest of my life. I can do that, but you can’t, Gracchus. You’re Gracchus; you’re a senator; you’re the most powerful force in Rome at the moment. You can’t run away. What will you do with her?”
“I’m not concerned about that now.”
“No? You know what Crassus will do. No one ever defeated Crassus. No one ever took anything from Crassus. Can you fight Crassus? Can you fight that kind of money? He’ll destroy you, Gracchus. Right to death. He’ll ruin you and kill you.”
“Do you think he’s big enough to?” Gracchus asked softly.
“Do you want the truth? Two million is more than I ever dreamed of, but the truth is yes. He can and he will.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Gracchus said.
“And what will you have after you take your chances? Two million is a lot. I can pay to have her taken out of his house and brought to you. That’s not hard. But how do you know she won’t spit in your face? Why shouldn’t she? Crassus smashed Spartacus. But who put Crassus onto it? Who maneuvered him into position? Who gave him the army and the job?”
“I did,” Gracchus nodded.
“Precisely. So what will you have?”
“I can have her—”
“What can you give her? What? There’s only one thing any slave wants. Can you give her that?”
“What?”
“Oh, you know what,” Flavius said. “Why don’t you face this?”
“You mean her freedom,” Gracchus said calmly.
“Not with you. Her freedom without you. That means her freedom outside of Rome. That means her freedom outside the reach of Crassus.”
“Do you think she would give me one night for her freedom?”
“One night of what?”
“Love—no, not love. Honor, respect, care. No—no, not that. Gratitude. Let me put it that way. One night of gratitude.”
“What a fool you are!” Flavius said.
“The more so to sit here and let you say it,” Gracchus nodded. “Perhaps I am—perhaps not. I’ll take my chances with Crassus. You would have to convince her that I never break my word. I have lived on my word. Rome knows it, but could you convince her?”
Flavius nodded.
“You would have to make the arrangements for her to get out of Rome afterwards. Could you do that?”
Flavius nodded again.
“Where?”
“At least to Cisalpine Gaul. There she’d be safe. The ports would be watched and the roads south. If she went north to Gaul, I think she’d be safe. She’s German. I suppose she could get to Germany if she wanted to.”
“And how could you take her out of the house of Crassus?”
“That’s no problem. He goes to the country three days each week. A little money judiciously spent will do it.”
“Only if she wants to go.”
“I understand that,” Flavius nodded.
“And she will want to bring the child, I suppose. That will be all right. I can make the child comfortable here.”
“Yes.
“You’ll want the two million in advance, won’t you?”
“I think I’ll have to have it in advance,” Flavius said, somewhat sadly.
“You can have it now. The money is here. You can have all cash, or you can have a draft on my bankers in Alexandria.”
“I’ll take cash,” said Flavius.
“Yes—I think you’re right. Don’t walk out on me, Flavius. I’ll find you if you do.”
“Damn it, Gracchus! My word is as good as yours.”
“Very well.”
“Only I don’t know why you’re doing it! By all the gods that ever lived, I don’t know why you’re doing it! You don’t know Crassus if you think he will take it lying down.”
“I know Crassus.”
“Then God help you, Gracchus. I wish I didn’t feel that way. But that’s the way I feel.”
VII
Varinia dreamed this dream. She dreamed that she faced an inquisition of the noble Senate. There they sat, the men who ruled the world. They sat in their great chairs, in their white togas, and each and every one of them had a face like the face of Crassus, long and handsome and hard. Everything about them, the way they sat, leaning forward, chin in hand, the expression on their faces so grim and foreboding, their confidence, their assurance—everything about them added up to the sum of power. They were power and strength, and nothing in all the world could stand before them. They sat in their white stone seats in the great, vaulted Senate Chamber, and just to see them there was a very frightening thing.
Varinia dreamed that she stood before them and she had to bear witness against Spartacus. She stood before them in a sheer cotton dress, and she was acutely and painfully aware that her milk was staining it. They began to ask her questions.
“Who was Spartacus?”
She began to answer that, but before she could, the next question came.
“Why did he try to destroy Rome?”
Again she tried to answer, and again the next question came.
“Why did he murder all who came into his hands? Didn’t he know that our law forbids murder?”
This she tried to deny, but before two words of her denial passed her lips, the next question came.