by J M Hemmings
‘Beware Lepidus,’ Claudius muttered. ‘Should I remind you that you have in the past been guilty of underestimating opponents? I assure you, these little whispers come from extremely credible sources.’
Lepidus stroked his wispy beard and nodded.
‘I see. Well, in recent times Octavian has struck up quite a friendship with this brute. But to what end? Yes, he is rich, but his wealth is a mere trickle compared to the torrentially-flowing rivers of gold that each of us boasts.’
Just then Octavian got up from his side of the table and strutted over to the pair, swaggering with brash confidence and grinning smugly as he sipped on his wine.
‘Claudius! Lepidus! How goes the evening?’
Claudius smiled awkwardly, hoping that Octavian hadn’t overheard anything he had just said.
‘We are enjoying the feast, dear friend. We were wondering, however, why you, ahem, have been taking such a keen interest in Batiatus in recent times?’
Octavian smiled cryptically.
‘What place are we in, senators?’
Lepidus shot a sour scowl at Octavian as he responded.
‘We are in Batiatus’s villa and gladiatorial ludus, of course!’
‘And why is this particular ludus one of the most famous in the whole Republic?’
‘Because … because of the fighting prowess of its gladiators. Indeed, they are rumoured to be the best in all our glorious Republic.’
‘And tell me, my friends, what could you achieve, backed by an army of the most highly trained, fearless and elite warriors in the Republic? Forgive me, I worded my question incorrectly; I should have said, what could you not achieve, backed by such an army?’
Lepidus’s jaw dropped at the realisation that had just hit him, as did Claudius’s.
‘An … an army of the most elite fighters in the Republic! This is why you have been focusing so intently on this fool Batiatus?! Why … why, you are a genius!’ Lepidus spluttered.
‘Gold begets power, power begets gold, my brother Huntsmen,’ Octavian whispered, flashing his friends a fiendish conspiratorial smile. ‘We will have control over the Republic, one way or another. We have nothing to fear from foolish, wealth-flaunting windbags like Batiatus. He is but a tool that we Huntsmen can manipulate to our own ends—’
‘And discard when he has reached the limits of his usefulness,’ Lepidus growled sinisterly.
With a wicked grin Octavian raised his goblet hand and clinked it against his friends’, and all of them chuckled with devilish glee after they had sipped on their wine.
Little did these Huntsmen realise, however, that everything that they had just said had been overheard by Lucius, who had been eavesdropping on them all the while, his anxiety and anger both temporarily allayed as he had centred in on the conversation with his wolf-enhanced hearing. All sorts of thoughts were running riot in his mind; now, at least, he had a better idea of what these Huntsmen were after. Why, it was so simple he was surprised he hadn’t figured it out long before this moment: they were after power, of course. Power, the universal lure, stuck on the devil’s fishhook, guaranteed to reel in any man who dared take a bite of that sweet and juicy worm.
But what does this ambition for ultimate power have to do with me? Why does it need to involve the extermination of myself and other beings like myself? I have never personally threatened any of these men, nor do I have any aspirations, lofty or otherwise, to any significant position of power or authority. I’ve always been happy to have my gold, my jewellery, my exotic cuisine, my travels … and of course a plentiful supply of ripe and attractive young women or men to fuck. Therewith extends – and has always extended – the sum of my wants. It cannot be anything to do with me personally, or the personal desires of any of these other beings who possess this strange animal magic that these Huntsmen fear. No … there must be something about this animal magic itself that threatens these men and their lust for power. But what?! By Jupiter, how I wish I knew more about this strange gift the gods have chosen to bestow upon me. Anyway, after tonight I will leave the Republic again … for good this time. The lands of the Far East may hold the answers that I am looking for. Besides, I cannot remain in the Republic any longer; it is no longer safe here, even under the protection of Batiatus … who I’m having a harder and harder time trusting these days, despite our years of friendship.
Trustworthiness aside, the influence of these Huntsmen extends far beyond than anything Batiatus can protect me from, and from the sound of what these three were just saying, it seems that he will be just another puppet for them to manipulate anyway. The gods themselves can only know how many other influential and powerful men dance to the twists and turns of these Huntsmen’s puppet strings. I must leave the Republic and seek answers. I must know what it is about my animal powers that threatens them so … and then, oh yes, and then I will be able to truly harness the full potential of this magic, and one day return here and destroy all of them.
A dark grin spread across Lucius’s lips and twinkled in his eyes as this last thought sashayed its way through his mind.
The music changed, and the musicians segued the current raucous tune into a composition that was a lot more sensual and suggestive, with a slow but steadily pulsating beat, like that of a great, sluggish heart. Slaves rushed about the hallway, extinguishing some of the candles and oil lamps to dim the lighting, and it was then that the sexual performers entered the room.
At the table near Lucius, Claudius shook his head and rolled his eyes as he chewed on a piece of pork gristle.
‘Look at this now,’ he grumbled to Lepidus. ‘Such uncouth entertainment. You’d think this was an orgy.’
Lepidus’s gaze, however, was locked on the bodies of the female dancers who had just entered the hall.
‘Yes, yes…’ he mumbled as his eyes roved hungrily over the contours of the young, nubile bodies, all oiled up and gleaming in the russet glow of the few remaining lamps. ‘Yes, such low, base entertainment…’
As the dynamics of the music rose and fell alternately in volume and intensity, all to the unrelenting, throbbing beat kept by the drummers, the nude women gyrated and twisted as they bent and thrust their bodies in a dance of unbridled eroticism, which increased steadily in vigour as the music flowed. Soon the dancers’ hands were all over each other’s bodies; the contact started as light touches and caresses in passing as they performed their routine, but soon their fingers began to linger and explore. It didn’t take long before hands were squeezing breasts in passing, or fondling buttocks, and tongues were flickering out of suggestively open mouths to wet tips of earlobes, curves of shoulders, sides of necks … and stiffening nipples.
Jewellery-laden hands began roving over silky bellies, seeking a passage downward, traversing the ever-so-fine down that glistened in the light as eager fingers moved through the triangles of hair between the thighs, damp and soft from the oil, to find the hot, welcoming wetness waiting below.
The diners were now utterly enthralled by the unfolding spectacle, and even the curmudgeonly Lepidus and Claudius were staring in unabashed fascination at the display of concupiscence.
All of the dancers gathered together in one writhing mass; a slithering serpent-coil of sultry sensuality, all tongues and bites and roving fingers, probing and parting and pressing – and penetrating.
The musicians stopped playing, all except the drummer, who began to steadily increase the tempo and volume of his strokes as the dancers began to rub and delve and massage and penetrate and lick with ever-increasing intensity. Soon moans and gasps of pleasure – feigned or otherwise – were resounding through the hall, and every eye on the room was locked on the carnal performance. The drumbeat was changing, turning into a faster and faster roll which eventually reached a maddening crescendo … which then stopped abruptly, just as all of the dancers, entwined in an orgiastic mass of sweaty, frenzied activity, collapsed into a shuddering heap on the floor.
For one moment the hall was absolutely st
ill and the only sounds to be heard were the gasps and pants of the dancers. Then Batiatus stood up and started clapping his hands, and he was soon joined by a chorus of many other palms, striking their salacious enthusiasm against one another repeatedly in a crashing bout of applause.
‘And now,’ Batiatus shouted gleefully above the din, ‘now comes the second act! Enter the stallions!’
The applause subsided and the band started playing a new tune as a number of young men entered the hall. All of them wore rams’ horns upon their heads, sported goatees upon their chins, and had chaps of fur strapped to their thighs, the overall effect of which was to give them the appearance of fauns.
Once more the music changed, and it had an eerie, almost hypnotic quality to it. The women on the floor got up and each sashayed over to one of the fauns until all were paired up. Once this had happened, the music once again began to build in volume, pace and intensity. Soon the women and the fauns were dancing a hypercharged samba of dripping sexuality, and the men did not take long to become fully aroused. As the music started to reach a dizzying level of fervour, the dancers started to copulate. Each pair assumed a different and evidently well-choreographed position, for the bodies, all churning and rolling and twisting together, created a spectacle that was not unlike watching the gears and wheels of a vast machine spinning in complex unison.
Faster and faster the men thrust and the women rode, and with concomitant avidity the music sped up, becoming ever more chaotic and atonal. Then the partners detached themselves from one another and each fell into the arms of a different partner, and then with desperate haste resumed their lovemaking. Sweat was beading now not only on the nude bodies of the performers, but on every human body in the room. It seemed to have become noticeably hotter in the hall, and inside his suit of steel armour Lucius was beginning to perspire with a vehement discomfort. He too had his eyes locked on the copulating couples, and for the moment his attention had wandered from the mess of anxiety, worry, rage and plotting in which it had previously been mired. A heavy throbbing was stirring in his own loins as he watched the vigorously thrusting hips of the muscular youths and their nubile female counterparts; his senses of hearing, sight and smell were not the only physical aspects of his being that had been greatly enhanced and intensified by his mysterious animal magic.
The song began to descend into primal chaos, the tune twisting and warping and falling into dissonance, the drums hammering and thrashing as the bodies heaved and pumped and bucked and gasped and moaned in a throng of orgiastic heat, sweat and dripping fluids. Then, just as the cyclonic madness of the song reached its climax, so too did the performers, all of the men withdrawing in unison from their partners’ orifices to shower the gasping females with their ejaculate.
The instruments stopped playing, and a sweaty, hormone-soaked silence fell upon the hall. Inside his suit of steel, Lucius found himself breathing heavily, the locus of his attention centred on his pulsating erection, which was pushing painfully against the cool steel of the armour.
Slaves dashed in and extinguished almost all of the torches, now plunging the hall into near-pitch black. Lucius, with his animal-enhanced senses, heard the padding of bare feet on the polished marble floor, and with his partial night vision he saw the nude performers hurrying about the hall and exiting through a side door. After they had gone, the slaves rushed back in with burning torches and lit up all of the lamps, illuminating the shadow-thick hall.
‘Well now,’ Batiatus boomed, ‘was that not a performance worthy of applause? Give thanks to the gods and pray for them to bless my nephew and niece with a son! Surely after such a show we will have pleased the god and goddess Liber and Bona Dea, no? Come on, show me that you appreciated such a scintillating display!’
Applause and a riotous chorus of cheers rocked the marble pillars and stone walls, and Batiatus took in the sight of all the excited guests around him with a grin of smug satisfaction smeared across his countenance.
‘And now we will bring you more wine – yes, yes, more wine, of course! Also coming is the next round of exotic dishes, but let me first tell you about the final course we will have tonight, lest you stuff yourselves too full before we get there! I must tell you, so that you can save a bit of space in your bellies: we have a particularly difficult delicacy to get hold of! Almost impossible, in fact! Let me ask you this, friends: have you ever heard of a gorilla?’
A chorus of gasps rippled through the sea of guests.
‘Yes! We have here an actual gorilla from the darkest and most distant reaches of the lands of Africa.’
‘Impossible!’ shouted a crimson-cheeked fellow, already well on his way to utter inebriation. ‘Such m-, monsters exist only in l-, l-, legend!’
‘I assure you, my friend, that the creature you will later see is quite real! Creatures, in fact … yes, more than one! I have procured, at a great expense, a number of these beasts from a Phoenician dealer who trades in exotic African species. These are – and I assure you that this is the absolute truth – the only gorillas ever to set foot on Roman soil. Two years ago, my Phoenician friend sent five ships down the west coast of Africa, probing and exploring much farther south than any ship had previously sailed. Only two returned, and they arrived just last week loaded with a cargo of exotic beasts, the likes of which have never been seen in Rome or any of her colonies! And among them, the legendary gorilla.’
Gasps and exclamations of shock and surprise buzzed about the crowd.
‘One was too old and weak to be considered useful for fighting in the arenas, so despite its immense monetary worth we have slaughtered it and prepared its flesh for you to consume! After tonight you will truly be able to say that you have indulged in something that nobody else in Rome has! Now my friends, thanks to none other than myself, Gnaeus Cornelius Lentulus Batiatus, you will be able to make a boast that absolutely nobody can equal – that you have eaten the meat of a real gorilla.’
A roar of approval blasted through the hall, and at every table men and women stood up and raised their goblets to Batiatus.
‘All hail Batiatus!’ Octavian roared. ‘You truly have surpassed all expectations, my friend! Veritably, you have impressed us! I foresee a very, very bright future ahead of you. Oh yes, I can almost guarantee this…’
He flashed Batiatus a not-so-subtle wink, and in response Batiatus nodded slowly, acknowledging the words and gesture with a knowing smile. As everyone took their seats again, Batiatus held up a hand and shouted out abruptly.
‘Wait! This is not all! Yes, we will dine on the flesh of a gorilla, but we will also see a live gorilla – a live gorilla that will engage in mortal combat with my finest gladiator! Man versus monster, in one of the fiercest battles you will have ever seen in your lives!’
‘By the gods,’ Claudius whispered to Lepidus, ‘he’s gone mad! He must have spent his entire fortune just on this evening! He’ll bankrupt himself!’
Lepidus nodded, his small eyes narrowing into slits as he stared intently at Batiatus.
‘He’s certainly going all out to impress, is he not? He has ambition, oh yes. He has the type of ambition that drives men insane. One must wonder how long he has been planning this…’
‘How long they have been planning this,’ Claudius murmured, nodding his head in Octavian’s direction. ‘I feel like we were kept too long in the dark about Octavian’s plans for Batiatus. We, as senior members of the Huntsmen society, are entitled to know these things! He should have told us a long time ago, not just tonight.’
‘Well, we do at least know about one little surprise that he and Batiatus have planned for this evening.’
Claudius smiled evilly.
‘Oh yes … oh yes, my friend. One little thorn in our side is about to be removed tonight, and I for one cannot wait to see it.’
‘Shh, I think he’s about to announce it now.’
Lucius Sertorius, who had been listening in on their conversation with a growing sense of worry and fear, looked up to s
ee what Batiatus was about to announce.
‘And while we are feasting on the flesh of one gorilla, and watching my prized champion gladiator, Viridovix, engage in mortal combat with another, we have one more spectacle for your entertainment, dear guests! Can you believe this?! Is this not one of the most spectacular nights of your lives? But here, I will let my friend Octavian introduce the final part of the evening’s entertainment, for it was a plan conceived in his mind. Octavian, if you will!’
Octavian stood up and bowed to Batiatus, smiling eerily all the while.
‘Thank you, my dear friend! And thank you for attending this banquet, this feast in honour of the great god Mars Invictus – may he bless us all with power and unending triumphs in the face of our foes, never to be defeated nor conquered!’ Everyone cheered at this, and Octavian waited for the shouting to subside before he continued. ‘Like Batiatus said, we have something very special in store for you. You see, on a recent visit to Athens, on business matters of course, I learned of a wonderful device invented by a Greek named Perillos. This thing is called a “brazen bull”, and that name describes exactly what it is: a life-sized replica of a bull, constructed entirely of brass. Now, what is the purpose of such a thing, I am sure you are wondering? Let me explain. The brazen bull is hollow, and it is large enough for a man to fit inside. Inside the head of the brazen bull are a complex series of tubes that distort and morph the sound of a man’s screams, so that when the sounds emerge from the device’s mouth, it sounds like the bellowing of an actual bull! Is this not ingenious? Now, I’m sure you are also wondering this: why would the man inside be screaming? Well, he would be screaming because under this brazen bull we would light a bonfire … and the unfortunate wretch who was placed inside the bull would be slow-roasted by the hot metal.’ Gasps of shock undulated through the crowd at this, and Octavian’s mouth bent into a cruel smile, while a vicious light gleamed darkly in his eyes. ‘Oh yes, yes my friends, it is indeed a delightfully horrid manner in which to die … but let me assure you, the man who is placed inside this device is a revolting criminal, fully deserving of this punishment. This traitorous, self-serving wretch will soon discover that he cannot evade justice! Oh no, not under my watch!’