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The Fate of a Goth Girl

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carloscruz said:
l

i am greatly enjoying the story. Thanks a lot!
I have a curiosity what is the source of the last one? The lovely naked maid offered to the big monkey?
Click to expand...
All those images are from the 1932 American pre-Code epic film "The Sign of the Cross," produced and directed by Cecil B. DeMille. based on the original 1895 play by English playwright Wilson Barrett. It stars Fredric March, Elissa Landi, Claudette Colbert, and Charles Laughton, with Ian Keith and Arthur Hohl.
1623065067094.png
 
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Herein we learn the inevitable fate of the Goth girl. It is much longer than most chapters, but there was just much that needed saying.

Centurio Calixtus watched the face of Praeses Antonious carefully. In a moment, he knew the contents of the answer from the Vicarius.
The appeal must have been denied.

Calixtus was surprised to see a tear form in the Governor's eye. Both men turned to look at the innocent girl, nailed to a cross. Both knew how wrong it all was.
"Of course, Domine,” the Centurion ventured softly, “there is still the option of you reversing your own sentence.” Now knowing that they shared a desire to save the Goth girl, Calixtus could be open in encouraging a plea of mercy.
"Yes. I know," sighed the Praeses. "But I won't. I lack the courage."
“I have never thought you a coward, Gaius,” said Calixtus.
"You think better of me than I do of myself, Centurio," said the Governor with a wry smile and chuckle. "No, I will not take the risk. Besides," here he turned their attention back to the girl, slumped and groaning on the cross, "as you said, she is almost sure to die soon, no matter what we do."

Just then, another wail of agony came from the girl's father. The Governor looked over and was shocked to realize that the Goth chieftain looked a decade older than when he had first met him a few hours ago. "I don't think he represents much of a threat now, do you?" he asked Calixtus.
“No, Praeses.”
“Release him, get him dressed, and let him go to be with his daughter before she dies.”
"Yes, Praeses" the Centurion saluted and immediately directed his men to obey. Soon the old chief was led down to the arena floor and the cross. The sun no longer touched any part of the inside of the amphitheater. The late afternoon light was softened and mellowed within the circular space. That, along with the almost total silence, gave a peaceful, resigned feel to the place, despite the tortured girl hanging from a cross in the center.
The shading of the sun was a slight relief to the suffering girl. The lack of direct light slightly softened the horrid appearance of her many wounds.

Friþugairns knelt before his daughter's cross, hands folded in prayer, afraid to look up. He was full of shame and guilt. Barbaþais must hate him now. He no longer deserved to be called her father. Somehow, however, it seemed right that at least one person, who knew and loved her, might keep watch while she suffered in her painful death.
One of the guards nudged the girl’s cheek with his pilum. "Hey, lookup, slut. You have a visitor."
Barbaria feeling her last strength almost gone struggled to raise her head and open her eyes. Somehow she managed the effort. In front of her, she didn’t see, as she expected, a tormentor, either a Roman soldier or that fat pig Galerius. She saw her father, now clothed, kneeling, and weeping.

Through her lidded, dazed eyes, Barbaria looked down on him. Though she had only known this man in person for a couple of years, she had spent her whole life worshiping the man who was the most excellent leader of her people and was also her father. Yes, he had cruelly participated in raping her mouth a few hours ago. But that was forced and somehow did not seem as important as the fact that he was there now for her. The only thing she saw now was the man who was her father and whom she loved and idolized.
With an extraordinary act of will, Barbaria found the strength to open her cracked lips and speak from her dry mouth, “Atta (father - informal and affectionate)!"
Hearing this word, Friþugairns looked up, hardly able to see through his tears, and said, "Dauhtar!”
These were the only words spoken between the two. Barb lacked the strength for more, and her father no courage left.

Up in the Imperial Box, the Centurio et Praeses watched the two below. Calixtus turned to the Governor and said, “Pardon my boldness, but I’m glad your son is not here.”
"No pardon required, Gaius, my friend. I am delighted also. And I suspect for the same reason. He would likely say something that would force me to kill him!”
“Only if you got to him before me,” rejoined the soldier. They shared a rueful laugh.

A hush had settled over the Narbo amphitheater. The few remainer spectators had ceased eating and drinking and were wholly focused on the last minutes of this tortured girl. They all knew she wouldn't last much longer. Yet, in their anticipation, whether erotic or pitying, they were silent.
In the Imperial Box, the remaining guests, Marcus Lycus, Marcus Claudius, and Lucius Piso, had similarly awakened from their slumbers and now directed their full concentration of the death throes of Barbaria.
The Praeses et Centurio stood side-by-side, barely breathing as they prayed in their hearts for the Goth girl's ordeal to end.

The time now was moving much slower for Barbaria. Throughout her tortured body, the pain was still there, assaulting her mind, creating a hell-like background to all her thoughts. But her body and mind seemed to be shutting down. Somehow she was leaving all the horrors of the last two days behind her. Quick flashes of her carefree childhood and the last couple of happy years, reunited with her father, filled her vision even as she groaned in agony. Smells, sights, sound, these all seemed dimmed now, leaving her alone in a world of her own. But, through it all, she was aware of the presence of her father and thankful for it.

It was almost the duodecima hora (twelfth hour, sunset) when the few remainers watched Barbaria struggle one more time to raise herself to gain a breath. As had happened several times recently, her first attempt failed. Now, however, after more failed attempts, she fell back without a breath and hung motionless. Another ten minutes passed as the Centurion Calitus observed her closely. Then he gestured to the Optio. Mogurix grabbed a pilum from one of his men and jabbed the sharp point into the soft, unmarked underside of a still-shapely breast perched on her chest. Blood oozed, but there was no other response. He turned to the Centurion and shook his head. Calixtus looked to the Praeses, who nodded acknowledgment.

Antonious went to the front of the Box and announced to the sparse spectators and his few guests, “Poena completa est. Nunc dimittite in pacem. (The punishment is complete. Now depart peacefully).”


When I was seventeen, I read in Latin class Virgil's Aeneid. When I came to Virgil's description of the death of Priam, I was deeply affected. I have always held that mournful and dramatic scene in my heart. I quoted some of it earlier concerning the horror of dying with no name. Here is the line that introduces that scene:

haec finis Priami fatorum, hic exitus illum sorte tulit

I shall very slightly paraphrase that line to one most appropriate here for Barbaria. This was how I formed a title for this story.

Haec finis Gothicae Puellae fatae, hic exitus illam sorte tulit
“This was the end of The Fate of a Goth Girl; this end fell to her by the merest chance.”


Finis Gothicae Puellae Fatae​
 
Barbaria1 said:
Well, Cecil did promise to make me a star if I agreed to the nudity clause in my contract for this epic. Not sure I remember agreeing to the nails, though … or of having to share billing with that fatso who plays Galerius. Last time I’ll ever agree to employ T.H.Tree Casting as my agent.

When this is over, I’m going to shoot for the title role in the remake of Gone with the Wind. I understand it’s going to be shot on location in Arkansas and be directed by Fossy. And after that perhaps a remake of Braveheart under the direction of Montycrusto, or Mutiny on the Bounty under the direction of Twonines.
Click to expand...
"The prisoner, Moore, is dead, sir."

"Continue the punishment, Mr. Christian."
 
Praefectus Praetorio said:
Herein we learn the inevitable fate of the Goth girl. It is much longer than most chapters, but there was just much that needed saying.

Centurio Calixtus watched the face of Praeses Antonious carefully. In a moment, he knew the contents of the answer from the Vicarius.
The appeal must have been denied.

Calixtus was surprised to see a tear form in the Governor's eye. Both men turned to look at the innocent girl, nailed to a cross. Both knew how wrong it all was.
"Of course, Domine,” the Centurion ventured softly, “there is still the option of you reversing your own sentence.” Now knowing that they shared a desire to save the Goth girl, Calixtus could be open in encouraging a plea of mercy.
"Yes. I know," sighed the Praeses. "But I won't. I lack the courage."
“I have never thought you a coward, Gaius,” said Calixtus.
"You think better of me than I do of myself, Centurio," said the Governor with a wry smile and chuckle. "No, I will not take the risk. Besides," here he turned their attention back to the girl, slumped and groaning on the cross, "as you said, she is almost sure to die soon, no matter what we do."

Just then, another wail of agony came from the girl's father. The Governor looked over and was shocked to realize that the Goth chieftain looked a decade older than when he had first met him a few hours ago. "I don't think he represents much of a threat now, do you?" he asked Calixtus.
“No, Praeses.”
“Release him, get him dressed, and let him go to be with his daughter before she dies.”
"Yes, Praeses" the Centurion saluted and immediately directed his men to obey. Soon the old chief was led down to the arena floor and the cross. The sun no longer touched any part of the inside of the amphitheater. The late afternoon light was softened and mellowed within the circular space. That, along with the almost total silence, gave a peaceful, resigned feel to the place, despite the tortured girl hanging from a cross in the center.
The shading of the sun was a slight relief to the suffering girl. The lack of direct light slightly softened the horrid appearance of her many wounds.

Friþugairns knelt before his daughter's cross, hands folded in prayer, afraid to look up. He was full of shame and guilt. Barbaþais must hate him now. He no longer deserved to be called her father. Somehow, however, it seemed right that at least one person, who knew and loved her, might keep watch while she suffered in her painful death.
One of the guards nudged the girl’s cheek with his pilum. "Hey, lookup, slut. You have a visitor."
Barbaria feeling her last strength almost gone struggled to raise her head and open her eyes. Somehow she managed the effort. In front of her, she didn’t see, as she expected, a tormentor, either a Roman soldier or that fat pig Galerius. She saw her father, now clothed, kneeling, and weeping.

Through her lidded, dazed eyes, Barbaria looked down on him. Though she had only known this man in person for a couple of years, she had spent her whole life worshiping the man who was the most excellent leader of her people and was also her father. Yes, he had cruelly participated in raping her mouth a few hours ago. But that was forced and somehow did not seem as important as the fact that he was there now for her. The only thing she saw now was the man who was her father and whom she loved and idolized.
With an extraordinary act of will, Barbaria found the strength to open her cracked lips and speak from her dry mouth, “Atta (father - informal and affectionate)!"
Hearing this word, Friþugairns looked up, hardly able to see through his tears, and said, "Dauhtar!”
These were the only words spoken between the two. Barb lacked the strength for more, and her father no courage left.

Up in the Imperial Box, the Centurio et Praeses watched the two below. Calixtus turned to the Governor and said, “Pardon my boldness, but I’m glad your son is not here.”
"No pardon required, Gaius, my friend. I am delighted also. And I suspect for the same reason. He would likely say something that would force me to kill him!”
“Only if you got to him before me,” rejoined the soldier. They shared a rueful laugh.

A hush had settled over the Narbo amphitheater. The few remainer spectators had ceased eating and drinking and were wholly focused on the last minutes of this tortured girl. They all knew she wouldn't last much longer. Yet, in their anticipation, whether erotic or pitying, they were silent.
In the Imperial Box, the remaining guests, Marcus Lycus, Marcus Claudius, and Lucius Piso, had similarly awakened from their slumbers and now directed their full concentration of the death throes of Barbaria.
The Praeses et Centurio stood side-by-side, barely breathing as they prayed in their hearts for the Goth girl's ordeal to end.

The time now was moving much slower for Barbaria. Throughout her tortured body, the pain was still there, assaulting her mind, creating a hell-like background to all her thoughts. But her body and mind seemed to be shutting down. Somehow she was leaving all the horrors of the last two days behind her. Quick flashes of her carefree childhood and the last couple of happy years, reunited with her father, filled her vision even as she groaned in agony. Smells, sights, sound, these all seemed dimmed now, leaving her alone in a world of her own. But, through it all, she was aware of the presence of her father and thankful for it.

It was almost the duodecima hora (twelfth hour, sunset) when the few remainers watched Barbaria struggle one more time to raise herself to gain a breath. As had happened several times recently, her first attempt failed. Now, however, after more failed attempts, she fell back without a breath and hung motionless. Another ten minutes passed as the Centurion Calitus observed her closely. Then he gestured to the Optio. Mogurix grabbed a pilum from one of his men and jabbed the sharp point into the soft, unmarked underside of a still-shapely breast perched on her chest. Blood oozed, but there was no other response. He turned to the Centurion and shook his head. Calixtus looked to the Praeses, who nodded acknowledgment.

Antonious went to the front of the Box and announced to the sparse spectators and his few guests, “Poena completa est. Nunc dimittite in pacem. (The punishment is complete. Now depart peacefully).”


When I was seventeen, I read in Latin class Virgil's Aeneid. When I came to Virgil's description of the death of Priam, I was deeply affected. I have always held that mournful and dramatic scene in my heart. I quoted some of it earlier concerning the horror of dying with no name. Here is the line that introduces that scene:

haec finis Priami fatorum, hic exitus illum sorte tulit

I shall very slightly paraphrase that line to one most appropriate here for Barbaria. This was how I formed a title for this story.

Haec finis Gothicae Puellae fatae, hic exitus illam sorte tulit
“This was the end of The Fate of a Goth Girl; this end fell to her by the merest chance.”


Finis Gothicae Puellae Fatae​
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A good ending, a tragic ending, a noble ending. Thank you for an excellent story! ...unless there’s an Epiloge wherein the dearly departed Barb is swiftly canonised and her martyrdom stirs up political uprisings that soon bring down the Roman Empire in the West.. (well, if she can crash a website, a mere Empire should be a doddle ) :eek:..
but in any case, great work, I have enjoyed it very much!
 
Barbaria1 said:
Well, Cecil did promise to make me a star if I agreed to the nudity clause in my contract for this epic. Not sure I remember agreeing to the nails, though … or of having to share billing with that fatso who plays Galerius. Last time I’ll ever agree to employ T.H.Tree Casting as my agent.

When this is over, I’m going to shoot for the title role in the remake of Gone with the Wind. I understand it’s going to be shot on location in Arkansas and be directed by Fossy. And after that perhaps a remake of Braveheart under the direction of Montycrusto, or Mutiny on the Bounty under the direction of Twonines.
Click to expand...
On the "Bounty", Barbara Moore sailed,
And started a mutiny, which failed.
Publicly stripped,
With a cat `o nine tails whipped,
At least to the mast she was not nailed.
 
So the Goth girl’s ultimate fate
Is to be in a non-living state.
She suffered so much,
With the floggings and such,
She had quite a lot on her plate.

But the Goths might be inspired
And get the revenge desired,
By taking up arms
And inflicting great harms
On the Romans they once had admired.

Rome is ripe for a Sack,
For the Goths, there’s no going back.
They’ll slash and they’ll burn
Until Romans discern
That their fortunes are quite out of whack.
 
Praefectus Praetorio said:
Herein we learn the inevitable fate of the Goth girl. It is much longer than most chapters, but there was just much that needed saying.

Centurio Calixtus watched the face of Praeses Antonious carefully. In a moment, he knew the contents of the answer from the Vicarius.
The appeal must have been denied.

Calixtus was surprised to see a tear form in the Governor's eye. Both men turned to look at the innocent girl, nailed to a cross. Both knew how wrong it all was.
"Of course, Domine,” the Centurion ventured softly, “there is still the option of you reversing your own sentence.” Now knowing that they shared a desire to save the Goth girl, Calixtus could be open in encouraging a plea of mercy.
"Yes. I know," sighed the Praeses. "But I won't. I lack the courage."
“I have never thought you a coward, Gaius,” said Calixtus.
"You think better of me than I do of myself, Centurio," said the Governor with a wry smile and chuckle. "No, I will not take the risk. Besides," here he turned their attention back to the girl, slumped and groaning on the cross, "as you said, she is almost sure to die soon, no matter what we do."

Just then, another wail of agony came from the girl's father. The Governor looked over and was shocked to realize that the Goth chieftain looked a decade older than when he had first met him a few hours ago. "I don't think he represents much of a threat now, do you?" he asked Calixtus.
“No, Praeses.”
“Release him, get him dressed, and let him go to be with his daughter before she dies.”
"Yes, Praeses" the Centurion saluted and immediately directed his men to obey. Soon the old chief was led down to the arena floor and the cross. The sun no longer touched any part of the inside of the amphitheater. The late afternoon light was softened and mellowed within the circular space. That, along with the almost total silence, gave a peaceful, resigned feel to the place, despite the tortured girl hanging from a cross in the center.
The shading of the sun was a slight relief to the suffering girl. The lack of direct light slightly softened the horrid appearance of her many wounds.

Friþugairns knelt before his daughter's cross, hands folded in prayer, afraid to look up. He was full of shame and guilt. Barbaþais must hate him now. He no longer deserved to be called her father. Somehow, however, it seemed right that at least one person, who knew and loved her, might keep watch while she suffered in her painful death.
One of the guards nudged the girl’s cheek with his pilum. "Hey, lookup, slut. You have a visitor."
Barbaria feeling her last strength almost gone struggled to raise her head and open her eyes. Somehow she managed the effort. In front of her, she didn’t see, as she expected, a tormentor, either a Roman soldier or that fat pig Galerius. She saw her father, now clothed, kneeling, and weeping.

Through her lidded, dazed eyes, Barbaria looked down on him. Though she had only known this man in person for a couple of years, she had spent her whole life worshiping the man who was the most excellent leader of her people and was also her father. Yes, he had cruelly participated in raping her mouth a few hours ago. But that was forced and somehow did not seem as important as the fact that he was there now for her. The only thing she saw now was the man who was her father and whom she loved and idolized.
With an extraordinary act of will, Barbaria found the strength to open her cracked lips and speak from her dry mouth, “Atta (father - informal and affectionate)!"
Hearing this word, Friþugairns looked up, hardly able to see through his tears, and said, "Dauhtar!”
These were the only words spoken between the two. Barb lacked the strength for more, and her father no courage left.

Up in the Imperial Box, the Centurio et Praeses watched the two below. Calixtus turned to the Governor and said, “Pardon my boldness, but I’m glad your son is not here.”
"No pardon required, Gaius, my friend. I am delighted also. And I suspect for the same reason. He would likely say something that would force me to kill him!”
“Only if you got to him before me,” rejoined the soldier. They shared a rueful laugh.

A hush had settled over the Narbo amphitheater. The few remainer spectators had ceased eating and drinking and were wholly focused on the last minutes of this tortured girl. They all knew she wouldn't last much longer. Yet, in their anticipation, whether erotic or pitying, they were silent.
In the Imperial Box, the remaining guests, Marcus Lycus, Marcus Claudius, and Lucius Piso, had similarly awakened from their slumbers and now directed their full concentration of the death throes of Barbaria.
The Praeses et Centurio stood side-by-side, barely breathing as they prayed in their hearts for the Goth girl's ordeal to end.

The time now was moving much slower for Barbaria. Throughout her tortured body, the pain was still there, assaulting her mind, creating a hell-like background to all her thoughts. But her body and mind seemed to be shutting down. Somehow she was leaving all the horrors of the last two days behind her. Quick flashes of her carefree childhood and the last couple of happy years, reunited with her father, filled her vision even as she groaned in agony. Smells, sights, sound, these all seemed dimmed now, leaving her alone in a world of her own. But, through it all, she was aware of the presence of her father and thankful for it.

It was almost the duodecima hora (twelfth hour, sunset) when the few remainers watched Barbaria struggle one more time to raise herself to gain a breath. As had happened several times recently, her first attempt failed. Now, however, after more failed attempts, she fell back without a breath and hung motionless. Another ten minutes passed as the Centurion Calitus observed her closely. Then he gestured to the Optio. Mogurix grabbed a pilum from one of his men and jabbed the sharp point into the soft, unmarked underside of a still-shapely breast perched on her chest. Blood oozed, but there was no other response. He turned to the Centurion and shook his head. Calixtus looked to the Praeses, who nodded acknowledgment.

Antonious went to the front of the Box and announced to the sparse spectators and his few guests, “Poena completa est. Nunc dimittite in pacem. (The punishment is complete. Now depart peacefully).”


When I was seventeen, I read in Latin class Virgil's Aeneid. When I came to Virgil's description of the death of Priam, I was deeply affected. I have always held that mournful and dramatic scene in my heart. I quoted some of it earlier concerning the horror of dying with no name. Here is the line that introduces that scene:

haec finis Priami fatorum, hic exitus illum sorte tulit

I shall very slightly paraphrase that line to one most appropriate here for Barbaria. This was how I formed a title for this story.

Haec finis Gothicae Puellae fatae, hic exitus illam sorte tulit
“This was the end of The Fate of a Goth Girl; this end fell to her by the merest chance.”


Finis Gothicae Puellae Fatae​
Click to expand...
A both beautiful and highly affecting ending. Applause, applause, applause and a tear on my cheek.
 
I could gush at length, or try and provide some deep and meaningful commentary, but I’ll be simple and frank. This was an excellent story, full of inventive tortures, despicable villains, and a satisfying resolution. And those amazing paintings didn’t hurt. Can’t wait to see the ebook!
 
I'll also get some paper dirty(spend electricity).

You really brought me back to my youth. When I wasn't so callous and heartless.
When I reading classical literature (I don't see the point in listing it, and everyone has their own) and felt very strong emotions. Such as now.

With all my heart, I was with Barb. I begged her to be saved.
But I knew in my mind that it wouldn't happen. It just tore my soul apart. I hope the decision was not easy for you. But that's what took the story to a new level. Great level. This is the scale of ancient Greek tragedies or Shakespeare.

Thank you, and accept my humble thanks. It's been a very exciting week.
 
My choice at school was Chemistry or Latin.

I chose Chemistry, which gave me a decent job and comfortable pension, so now I have the time and inclination to learn a bit of Latin.

Thank you @Praefectus Praetorio for a text which met all my erotic desires and was also a painless Latin primer (painless for me that is, but we all know Barbaria will rise like a phoenix-----------has she ever been BATS though, just a thought).
 
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Barbaria1 said:
Hmmmm … don’t believe I have … I’ve been just about everything imaginable here on CF but that.
Click to expand...
pretty sure I burned you at the stake in limerick form:

Limericks

We hope that Barb is just fine, Or is she extracting the urine? It`s pointless to quiz Just where she is, You guess is as good as mine.
www.cruxforums.com

Why not burn the rest of her too?
I’m sure she deserves it, aren’t you?
When she writhes at the stake
I believe she will make
A most pleasant tableau to view.

When led out in chains to the square,
Barb’s noisy complaints filled the air.
“How have I earned
This fate, to be burned
At the stake, I protest! It’s not fair!”
 
montycrusto said:
unless there’s an Epiloge wherein the dearly departed Barb is swiftly canonised and her martyrdom stirs up political uprisings that soon bring down the Roman Empire in the West.. (well, if she can crash a website, a mere Empire should be a doddle )
Click to expand...
I am working on an afterword to tie up a few loose ends and trace the future of some of the major actors. It should post in a couple of days.
However, I do not envision a work grand enough to cover the entire destruction of the Roman Empire by our insidious rebel, @Barbaria1
I do believe that "The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire", by Gibbon, does make a passing reference in Book III or IV (I can't recall the precise location of the citation) to a barbarian by the name of Barbaþais, who was key in bringing about some catastrophic events in the Western Empire. I leave that up to the readers to research. To be honest, my desire to research is, at least temporarily, satiated!
 
Praefectus Praetorio said:
Herein we learn the inevitable fate of the Goth girl. It is much longer than most chapters, but there was just much that needed saying.

Centurio Calixtus watched the face of Praeses Antonious carefully. In a moment, he knew the contents of the answer from the Vicarius.
The appeal must have been denied.

Calixtus was surprised to see a tear form in the Governor's eye. Both men turned to look at the innocent girl, nailed to a cross. Both knew how wrong it all was.
"Of course, Domine,” the Centurion ventured softly, “there is still the option of you reversing your own sentence.” Now knowing that they shared a desire to save the Goth girl, Calixtus could be open in encouraging a plea of mercy.
"Yes. I know," sighed the Praeses. "But I won't. I lack the courage."
“I have never thought you a coward, Gaius,” said Calixtus.
"You think better of me than I do of myself, Centurio," said the Governor with a wry smile and chuckle. "No, I will not take the risk. Besides," here he turned their attention back to the girl, slumped and groaning on the cross, "as you said, she is almost sure to die soon, no matter what we do."

Just then, another wail of agony came from the girl's father. The Governor looked over and was shocked to realize that the Goth chieftain looked a decade older than when he had first met him a few hours ago. "I don't think he represents much of a threat now, do you?" he asked Calixtus.
“No, Praeses.”
“Release him, get him dressed, and let him go to be with his daughter before she dies.”
"Yes, Praeses" the Centurion saluted and immediately directed his men to obey. Soon the old chief was led down to the arena floor and the cross. The sun no longer touched any part of the inside of the amphitheater. The late afternoon light was softened and mellowed within the circular space. That, along with the almost total silence, gave a peaceful, resigned feel to the place, despite the tortured girl hanging from a cross in the center.
The shading of the sun was a slight relief to the suffering girl. The lack of direct light slightly softened the horrid appearance of her many wounds.

Friþugairns knelt before his daughter's cross, hands folded in prayer, afraid to look up. He was full of shame and guilt. Barbaþais must hate him now. He no longer deserved to be called her father. Somehow, however, it seemed right that at least one person, who knew and loved her, might keep watch while she suffered in her painful death.
One of the guards nudged the girl’s cheek with his pilum. "Hey, lookup, slut. You have a visitor."
Barbaria feeling her last strength almost gone struggled to raise her head and open her eyes. Somehow she managed the effort. In front of her, she didn’t see, as she expected, a tormentor, either a Roman soldier or that fat pig Galerius. She saw her father, now clothed, kneeling, and weeping.

Through her lidded, dazed eyes, Barbaria looked down on him. Though she had only known this man in person for a couple of years, she had spent her whole life worshiping the man who was the most excellent leader of her people and was also her father. Yes, he had cruelly participated in raping her mouth a few hours ago. But that was forced and somehow did not seem as important as the fact that he was there now for her. The only thing she saw now was the man who was her father and whom she loved and idolized.
With an extraordinary act of will, Barbaria found the strength to open her cracked lips and speak from her dry mouth, “Atta (father - informal and affectionate)!"
Hearing this word, Friþugairns looked up, hardly able to see through his tears, and said, "Dauhtar!”
These were the only words spoken between the two. Barb lacked the strength for more, and her father no courage left.

Up in the Imperial Box, the Centurio et Praeses watched the two below. Calixtus turned to the Governor and said, “Pardon my boldness, but I’m glad your son is not here.”
"No pardon required, Gaius, my friend. I am delighted also. And I suspect for the same reason. He would likely say something that would force me to kill him!”
“Only if you got to him before me,” rejoined the soldier. They shared a rueful laugh.

A hush had settled over the Narbo amphitheater. The few remainer spectators had ceased eating and drinking and were wholly focused on the last minutes of this tortured girl. They all knew she wouldn't last much longer. Yet, in their anticipation, whether erotic or pitying, they were silent.
In the Imperial Box, the remaining guests, Marcus Lycus, Marcus Claudius, and Lucius Piso, had similarly awakened from their slumbers and now directed their full concentration of the death throes of Barbaria.
The Praeses et Centurio stood side-by-side, barely breathing as they prayed in their hearts for the Goth girl's ordeal to end.

The time now was moving much slower for Barbaria. Throughout her tortured body, the pain was still there, assaulting her mind, creating a hell-like background to all her thoughts. But her body and mind seemed to be shutting down. Somehow she was leaving all the horrors of the last two days behind her. Quick flashes of her carefree childhood and the last couple of happy years, reunited with her father, filled her vision even as she groaned in agony. Smells, sights, sound, these all seemed dimmed now, leaving her alone in a world of her own. But, through it all, she was aware of the presence of her father and thankful for it.

It was almost the duodecima hora (twelfth hour, sunset) when the few remainers watched Barbaria struggle one more time to raise herself to gain a breath. As had happened several times recently, her first attempt failed. Now, however, after more failed attempts, she fell back without a breath and hung motionless. Another ten minutes passed as the Centurion Calitus observed her closely. Then he gestured to the Optio. Mogurix grabbed a pilum from one of his men and jabbed the sharp point into the soft, unmarked underside of a still-shapely breast perched on her chest. Blood oozed, but there was no other response. He turned to the Centurion and shook his head. Calixtus looked to the Praeses, who nodded acknowledgment.

Antonious went to the front of the Box and announced to the sparse spectators and his few guests, “Poena completa est. Nunc dimittite in pacem. (The punishment is complete. Now depart peacefully).”


When I was seventeen, I read in Latin class Virgil's Aeneid. When I came to Virgil's description of the death of Priam, I was deeply affected. I have always held that mournful and dramatic scene in my heart. I quoted some of it earlier concerning the horror of dying with no name. Here is the line that introduces that scene:

haec finis Priami fatorum, hic exitus illum sorte tulit

I shall very slightly paraphrase that line to one most appropriate here for Barbaria. This was how I formed a title for this story.

Haec finis Gothicae Puellae fatae, hic exitus illam sorte tulit
“This was the end of The Fate of a Goth Girl; this end fell to her by the merest chance.”


Finis Gothicae Puellae Fatae​
Click to expand...
Wow ... and there we have it. What a fantastic ride that has been. Right up until the end there was a chance, just a slight one, but a chance nonetheless. But it was not to be, or that is certainly how the Goth Girl's fate plays out in my mind ... '... blood oozed, but there was no other response ...' - Wonderful work PrPr. Thank you!
 
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