Again, I approached the woman with the intention of learning more about the plot. She was evidently resisting the obvious pain of the lash, she could not hide her feelings under a veil of indifference, she was trembling and moving within the confines of the brace as the lash fell on her.I asked the question.

"Do you know Rhascuporis also known as Rhescuporis, son of Cotus, who helped Pompey and Cesear and later Brutus and Cassius against Antony and Octavian?" I can't say that my words had any meaning for Varinia, she acted as if she was totally oblivious to my presence in front of her, as if I didn't exist, as if I was nothing but a ghostly figure, a shadow, nothing more.

She did not look at me or my eyes.She did not see the ring on my finger, the one that told the world of my power, the one granted to me by Octavian himself as a reward for my loyalty in times of struggle against Cesear himself.

I nodded to the executioner and he understood. He lashed the Thracian woman with all his might and made her scream. I walked away so she would know that now she was to be only in the executioner's hands and she had lost one chance to hasten her demise.

I cannot say that I was surprised by her resilience. When she was captured and brought to the barracks she showed no disposition to cooperate. In fact, she preferred to remain silent during her questioning, not even nodding yes or no as she was prompted. More than once we threatened her with torture but she did not respond. She acted as if we didn't exist.

A few days before her arrest I was given the mission of finding information about her and her contacts, connections, links to those plotting. We called on many for questioning, we visited others and I did learn about the woman behind those words that now condemned her, but not about those who are behind her.

It was then that I learned of her name and who she was. It was then that the records corroborated her identity as of one, born of Paulus, son of Spartacus and Varinia. It was then that I learned about the grandmother by simply asking some people in her village. I learned a great deal about the old woman and her protegé, her granddaughter.

I learned that the girl was schooled, uncommon in these parts, that she learned to read like a man and that it was her wish to learn to use the sword. I learned that in her reading she favored those hidden scrolls that tell the stories of those who died opposing the expansion, including her grandfather Spartacus.

I learned of one of her favorite heroines from older times. A woman that went under the name of Pyroska, who died a gruesome death on the cross, not unlike the one Varinia was about to suffer. It was the legends of her grandfather and those of Pyroska and others that led her to take the road of sedition.

I knew of her motives but not of her contacts. This was most annoying and frustrating. The lash was now the only way in which I could complete that which I set out to do under the direct orders of Octavian who sent a sealed letter to me with his instructions.

And the whip was doing its work. I hoped that we would need only one day, but we were prepared for the 7 days we had as a limit.

For Varinia's sake it was better for her to tell us all now rather than go on into the hell we conceived for her, especially for her. The lash made it's somber noise and broke my concentration more than once, her cries were still infrequent.

Again, after a few more lashes to soften her resolve, I approached her expecting to see a less willful Varinia. I stood in front of her as the whip crashed against her back again, she moaned and that was all. She opened her eyes but directed her look away from me, again ignoring my presence and thus my power.

At that moment only I had the power to continue or to stop. I was to measure her punishment and make it better or worse for her, depending on her collaboration, but she was not even curious about what me being there meant to her.

I gave the executioner a nod again. I wanted him to hit her harder while I watched her face.