Varinia's arms were pressed by the ropes against the wood that weighed heavily on her shoulders, she did not complain but the pain was written on her face, she could not hide her expression.

And it was those expressions that gave her away to me. Her presence and pride, her righteous demeanor, as if she expected to be treated as a queen.

Her lineage had royalty, even if her grandfather was born a slave, he was from a race of warriors and his ancestors were kings. It was then possible that she could one day be a Thracian queen, but the events unfolding were going to prevent that. We were going to put an end to any ambitions she had to be the one to join the Thracian tribes.

She still avoided my eyes when I looked at her, there was some fear in her, she was human, after all, but she was not letting her fears sabotage her intention to go to her death with dignity.

"Who is the leader of the Bessi?", I asked the servant as she tried to keep her toes on the dirt ground below her.

"I don't know, I left the Bessi as a child, my mother took me to the city, escaping from the war.", she cried, looking up at her wrists pressed by the shackles.

"I don't believeyou!", I told her. "You're still a Bessi and you know who the leader is.".

"I don't!", she cried out again. I motioned to the torturer and he reached for the servant to disrobe her, leaving her in her under- garments, wrapped around her breast and waist, and under her legs.

She looked like a healthy young woman, her fine, long legs looked strong, even muscular, her arms too. Her belly was flat and showed that she was an active woman, maybe too active, more like a warrior than a house servant who tended to be fat and weak.

"You're more than a house servant.", I told her. "You are part of her army, aren't you!". She closed her eyes, she knew I was not going to believe anything she had to say, except the truth.

Varinia's wrists were tightly secured to the extremes of the timber, her arms and shoulders were firmly held by ropes as well. I could see the rough ropes sinking into her flesh, producing red marks, some of which bled.

Her head held high during her punishment was in some way fitting to her character. I learned too that during her childhood her grandmother taught her how to read and write, how to interpret scrolls and how to manage the fortune she would inherit. It was not clear if she had taught her the arts of war as well, but we knew that in her household there were at least three of the escaped slaves who survived the persecution and hid with the free.

When we searched the house we didn't find weapons, only a few lances and swords used by the few guards that protected her goods. All wealthy property owners had such guards, most of them members of the soldierly who found additional pay by serving in the house of the rich.

If she had an army it was not in her house.

"Where is her army?", I asked the servant who was crying in pain of her wrists and fear.

"What army, I beg you to tell me?", she responded, still struggling to keep her toes on the ground. I gave a sign to the torturer and he pulled the garment covering her breasts off her body. With one swift move the upper garment was gone and her large breasts were exposed. The woman cried out, "I have nothing to say, please, let me go!".

I gave another sign and the torturer reached for his whip hanging from a nail on the stone wall of the dungeon. He first pulled the extremes of the whip to test its consistency and walked a few steps closer to the hanging woman. He was behind her, I was in front of her. She saw me look at the torturer and turned her head just in time to see him raise his arm with the whip.

"Nooo.. please!", she screamed, as the whip flew through the space between the torturer and her and fell crashing on her back. She jumped up screaming and could not return her toes to the ground below, she was swinging and twirling as the lash fell on her again.

The executioner was done with tying Varinia to the log. She was now crucified, facing the post, the heavy timber resting on her arms and shoulders, pulling her back , her neck held by the metal brace. It was not a common crucifixion, but one that had been used before.

The chain around her waist was still there and her feet were firmly planted on the ground, held together by another chain.

It was almost the middle of the day, the sun was at its brightest and hottest, some in the crowd walked away to find water. The torturer himself dipped into a container where there was some water for him and the soldiers.

I was thirsty as well and I requested water from one of my slaves. I had three slaves at my disposal, one was ready to fan me if necessary. My slave rushed away to bring me fresh water.

I was sure Varinia was thirsty as well, her mouth dry, drier than mine since she was going through so much tension. I pitied her as I waited for the precious liquid.