Assignment #8 Conclusion

         The stories of Spartacus, still fresh in Romans’ minds, had planted a seed of an idea in Quintus’ mind years ago that has now sprouted and has taken over his every waking moment.  Now an elderly slave, Quintus reflected on all the years spent serving his master Titus, who thought of him as little more than chattel.  Quintus knew that murdering Titus meant risking the lives of all the other slaves of the household, but with Titus’ outspoken support of Pompey, Quintus realized that he is not the only one who would kill Titus.  During his morning errands in the market at the Forum, he waited for the right moment and, when the shop keeper had his back turned, stole poison from the apothecary.  He made sure no one spotted him as he made his way back up to Palatine Hill, where he knew the household would be preparing for his master’s banquet that evening.              

With the small bottle of poison safely hidden in the folds of his coarse, gray tunic, Quintus crept through the vestibule and grand front door of his master’s stone dwelling.  As he strode through the peristyle courtyard toward the kitchen in the back of the house, he admired the lush garden under the open roof and the elegantly frescoed walls, enjoying saying goodbye to the grand house; he would not miss the walls that had so imprisoned him.  Quintus longed to be free and never confined to servitude again; especially with freedom so close at hand, he could barely contain his excitement.

The kitchen was bustling with cooks and other slaves preparing to serve Titus and his friends, so it was easy for Quintus to creep in unnoticed with the poison hidden in his sleeve.  Quintus followed the line of slaves serving dishes to the reclined guests seated around the table in the dining room.  Quintus couldn’t help but feel his lips slowly curl into a twisted grin as he handed a special dish to Titus, his voice deep and crackling as he murmured “Enjoy your meal, master”.