Object of Pleasure

 
The palatine lolled upon his bed
His good faith drowning in wine
Setting a fine example, this provincial head
Was being entertained by his concubine

The epitome of self indulgence, he sat
A jeweled gold cup in his hand
Just another fat and haughty Roman rat
For too long they have infested this land

With eyes as blue as the Thracian sky
She stared blankly at the marble wall
A slave whose free spirit would never die
Along with empire’s decline and fall

She slept with him, but he loved her not
To him she was another object of pleasure
Her passion was feigned, but always served hot
And this did he come to treasure

The warming glow of his lustful bliss
A slain chieftain’s daughter, his personal whore
Her soft full red lips, his to kiss
Until interrupted by a pounding on his door

Messengers in dented helms and rent mail
Terrible news of the barbarian horde
The horror in his eyes as they told their tale
Of Roman citizens being put to the sword

“Assemble what troops who still remain”
He sent them forth with a trembling nod
Praying aloud in the holy son’s name
Once again regaining his faith of god

“Aid us oh lord in our flight”
He moved about his villa with great speed
Fearing the Huns would attack at first light
The palatine gathered up what he would need

Gold, silver and gems, all of his treasure
An old Roman eagle and a shattered legion
Along with his beautiful object of pleasure
He would take leave of this doomed region

Opportunity seized her, a deadly farewell to bid
She waited for his return into the room
Under his bed the stolen dagger she hid
Would spell the palatine’s untimely doom

“The troops are being assembled, we must start”
Was all he had the chance to say
Leaping up, plunging the dagger into his heart
She took his gold and quietly slipped away