Read Online The Scorpion Rules by Erin Bow - Free Book Online Page A

rebuked?
    â€œUm . . . ,” I said. Which was not worthy of me. I steadied myself and tried to remember that I was (no “probably” about it) the cohort’s best Romanist. “That is, Father . . . The Third Servile War was the last of three unsuccessful slave revolts during the Roman republic period, and took place between 73 and 71 BCE. We have major accounts from Plutarch, Appian, and Florus, and of course Julius Caesar’s Commentarii de Bello Gallico .”
    â€œAnd the war is chiefly famous for . . . ,” the Abbot prompted.
    â€œFor the involvement of the slave general Spartacus, good Father. Though perhaps the effect on the careers of legionary generals Pompey and Crassus is of broader historical significance.”
    â€œWell, of course,” said the Abbot, with a dove-chuckle of a laugh. “They won.”
    â€œOf course.” My throat felt dry.
    The Abbot turned. Usually he is carefully human in his movements, slow and puttering. But he turned sharply just then, every inch a machine, a hinged blade. “Now, Mr. Palnik. You wanted to discuss Spartacus? Perhaps you can tell us what happened to him?”
    â€œHe—”
    â€œStand,” clicked the Abbot.
    Elián stood.
    â€œWhat happened to Spartacus?”
    â€œHe . . .” Elián looked as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. “He was crucified. By the roadside.”
    â€œGreta?”
    There was nothing for it but to contradict Elián: he was wrong, and the Abbot would surely know it, and expect better of me. “His fate is not known, Father. The discipline of the slave army broke, and they were entirely routed, and all but six thousand were killed on the battlefield. Spartacus himself was presumably among them.”
    â€œSo this crucifixion business?”
    â€œThe six thousand captured were crucified, Father. They lined the Appian Way from Rome to the coast.”
    â€œAh,” said the Abbot, and smiled.
    I was standing, and Elián was standing. I felt as if we were connected by a cord. I could almost feel it closing around my throat. The spiders moved under Elián’s shirt. No one said anything.
    The Abbot looked at us each, one by one by one.
    He did not order. But everyone stood.
    â€œGood,” said the Abbot. “Good.” I thought for a moment— I do not know what I thought. I thought something radical was about to happen.
    But the Abbot only nodded. “I’ve taken enough of your time, Children—be about your day. I will count on you to show our newest colleague the ropes, as it were.” He spread a hand. As if he’d conjured them, bells began to ring.

    And so Elián joined us properly.
    Outside he took three stumbling, running steps into the sunlight, then stopped. He tilted up his face and took a deep breath. Sidney told me once that domestic turkeys can drown while watching the rain. In that moment I believed it. We all stared at Elián while he stood there with his gullet tipped open. If it had been raining, he would have been doomed.
    After a moment he swallowed and looked over at me. “Well, that was great, Greta. Thanks a lot. Now I know who to cheat off when we get a test.”
    Spiders pulsed under his clothing. I saw the muscles jump in his arm where the electricity hit, saw the flash of widening in his eyes and mouth. It was gone almost instantly. I wasn’t sure the others saw.
    â€œApples,” said Thandi. Her voice was tight with . . . something. Anger? Fear? “We can put up the windfall apples. Let’s go, before he gets us all in trouble.”
    The eleven- and twelve-year-olds had already gathered the apples into peck baskets, and set up the grinder in the shade of the toolshed. They looked to be about half-done. Bushels of bruising apples sat on one side of the grinder, and pails of coarse apple meal sat on the other. Bat Brain the goat had her head