'It seems that in those days the landowners of Sicily first began to accumulate great wealth and to amass vast numbers of slaves. Their wealth made the Sicilians arrogant; the constant influx of slaves from captured provinces in Africa and the East made them treat their slaves with little regard, for a slave crippled by overwork or malnutrition was easily replaced. Indeed, many landowners would send out slaves to work as shepherds without proper clothing or even food. When those slaves complained of their nakedness and hunger, their masters would tell them to steal clothes and food from travellers on the road! For all its wealth, Sicily degenerated into a lawless and desperate place.

'There was one landowner, Antigenes by name, who was known to everyone for his excessive cruelty. He was the first man on the island to brand his slaves for identification, and the practice soon spread all over Sicily. Slaves who came to him begging for food or clothing were beaten, chained, and put on humiliating display before being sent back to their tasks, as naked and hungry as before.

'This Antigenes did have a favourite slave whom he delighted in both coddling and humiliating, a Syrian called Eunus, who fancied himself a wizard and wonder-worker. This Eunus would tell of dreams in which the gods had spoken to him. People always like to hear such stories, even from a slave. Soon Eunus began to see the gods, or pretend that he did, in broad daylight, and to converse with them in strange tongues while others looked on in wonder. He could also spit fire from his mouth.'

'Fire?' Gelina was aghast.

'An old theatrical trick,' Metrobius explained. 'You bore holes into either end of a walnut or something similar, stuff it with fuel, light it and pop it into your mouth, then blow flames and sparks. Any conjurer in the Subura can do it.'

'Ah, but it was Eunus who first brought the trick from Syria,' said Dionysius. 'His master Antigenes would display him at dinner parties, where Eunus would fall into his trance, spit fire, and afterwards reveal the future. The more outlandish the tale, the better it was received. For instance, he told Antigenes and his guests that a Syrian goddess had appeared to him promising that he, a slave, would become king of all Sicily, but that they should not fear him, for he would have a very tolerant policy toward the slave owners. Antigenes' guests found this highly amusing and rewarded Eunus with delicacies from the table, telling him to remember their kindness when he became king. Little did they realize the dark course of the future.

'It came about that the slaves of Antigenes decided to revolt against their master, but first they consulted Eunus, asking him if the gods would favour their enterprise. Eunus told them that their revolt would be successful, but only if they struck brutally and without hesitation. The slaves, about four hundred of them, held a ceremony in an open field that night, exchanging oaths and perforrning rites and sacrifices as Eunus instructed. They worked themselves into a murderous frenzy and then broke into the city, killing free men, raping women, even slaughtering babies. Antigenes was captured, stripped, beaten, and beheaded. The slaves dressed Eunus in rich garments and a crown of gold leaf and proclaimed him their king.

'News of their rebellion spread like wildfire across the island, inciting other slaves to revolt. Rival groups of rebel slaves rose up, and it was hoped they would turn against one another. Instead, they banded together, taking into their army all sorts of bandits and outlaws. Word of their success spread beyond Sicily and encouraged widespread unrest – a hundred and fifty slaves conspired to revolt in Rome, more than a thousand rose up in Athens, and there were similar disturbances all over Italy and Greece. All these were quickly suppressed, but the situation in Sicily deteriorated into utter chaos.

'Sicily was overwhelmed by rebelling slaves, all proclaiming Eunus their king. The common folk, in an access of hatred against the rich, actually sided with the slaves. For all its madness, the revolt was conducted with a certain intelligence, for while many a landowner was tortured and killed, the slaves took thought for the future and avoided destroying harvests and property that would be useful to them.'

'How did it end?' asked Gelina.

'Armies were sent from Rome. There was a series of battles all over Sicily, and for a time it seemed that the slaves were invincible, until at last the Roman governor, Publius Rupilius, managed to trap them in the city of Tauromenium. The siege continued until the insurgents were reduced to conditions of unspeakable hunger, and finally cannibalism. They began by eating their children, then their women, and at last each other.'

'Oh! And the wizard?' Gelina whispered.

'He escaped from Tauromenium and hid himself in a cave, until at last Rupilius flushed him out. Just as the slaves had consumed one another, so the king of the slaves was discovered half-eaten by worms – yes, just such worms as were said to have plagued the great Sulla in his last years here on the Cup, before his death from apoplexy, which demonstrates that these devouring worms, like the lower grade of humans, will take sustenance from any leader, high or low. Eunus was dragged from his cave, screaming and clawing at his own flesh, and put in a dungeon at Morgantina. The wizard continued to see visions, which became more and more horrible; at the end he was raving. At last the worms consumed him, and so the first of the great slave revolts came to its miserable end.'

There was a deep silence. The faces of Gelina's guests were impassive, except for Eco, who sat wide-eyed, and young Olympias, who seemed to have a tear in her eye. Mummius fidgeted on his couch. The silence was broken by the soft shuffling footsteps of a slave retreating towards the kitchens with an empty platter. I looked about the room at the faces of the table slaves, who stood rigidly at their posts behind the guests. None of them would meet my eyes, nor would they look at one another; instead they stared at the floor.

'You see,' said Metrobius, his voice sounding unnaturally loud after the stillness, 'you have all the elements for a divine comedy right at your fingertips, Dionysius! Call it "Eunus of Sicily" and let me direct it for you!'

'Metrobius, really!' protested Gelina.

'I'm serious. All you need to do is cast it with the standard roles. Let me see: a bumbling Sicilian landowner and his son, who of course will be love-struck by a neighbour's daughter; add to that the son's tutor, a good slave who will be tempted to join in this slave revolt but will choose virtue instead and save his young master from the mob. We can bring this Eunus onto the stage for a few grotesque comedy turns, spitting fire and babbling nonsense. Introduce the general Rupilius as a bombastic braggart; he mistakes the good slave, the tutor, for Eunus, and wants to crucify him; at the last instant the young master saves his tutor from death and thus repays him for saving his own life. The revolt is suppressed offstage, and all ends with a happy song! Really, Plautus himself never came up with a better plot.'

'I believe you're half-serious,' said Iaia shrewdly.

'It all sounds a bit distasteful,' complained Orata, 'considering current circumstances.'

'Oh, dear, you might be right,' admitted Metrobius. 'Perhaps I've been away from the stage too long. Go on, then, Dionysius.

I only hope your next account of past atrocities will be as amusing as that last one.'

The philosopher cleared his throat. 'I fear you will be disappointed, Metrobius. Since Eunus there have been a number of slave revolts in Sicily; something about the island seems to encourage depravity among the rich and insurrection among the slaves. The last and greatest of these revolts was centred in Syracuse, in the days when Marius was consul, thirty-five years ago. Its scale was as great as the first uprising under Eunus, but I fear that the story is not nearly as colourful.'