CRVFICIXION IV
"Like they say," Trenus casually set one boot on a fallen log as he spoke
following scourging. By the looks of her slumped head it was plain that she was
unconscious. A twitching toe told him she still lived. "Good show, but sorry, no
cigar."
The two liberti swore under their breaths as they pulled off the hoods. Sweat
dripped. The Mongol looked as though he were about to answer Trenus when the
small bags of coins were tossed to each.
"Consider these consolation prizes. Neither of you won, despite your best
efforts. She never screamed."
Marcianna and the slave both wondered what was to happen to them. They did not
have long to wait.
"Take the two bitches to brothels," he said and shrugged his shoulders with
hands extended in a seemingly helpless gesture to the two disappointed
foreigners. "Cut the other one down".
Sethra moaned as she fell. Dirt her cheek rested on, and open mouth breathed
felt warm. With the least of interest did she pay any attention to the male's
approach.
The amber plume atop the centurion's helmet tilted as he stopped. Cold eyes
gazed down at the tortured. He ordered slaves to bring water. Swinging his right
hob-nailed boot, he kicked the female in the ribs, knocking her over onto her
back. More water was ordered
Squatting down, one hand gripped the bleeding tit. He used the other to wipe
away the scarlet film. The long nipple that got snagged in the scourging now
stood as two tall spires that angled away from each other..
The centurion grunted and reached for his medical kit. He was an expert at field
repairs, but this was to be his first female. Gnarled fingers gripped the needle
and thin twine. "You aren't going to give me any trouble, are you?"
Sethra slowly rolled her crowned head toward the voice. She saw only the bronze
cheek pieces and hard lips of the centurion's face. She laid looking at the
helmet and lips as help was called. Other hands stretched out her arms.
Elsewhere, cold water and cloths wiped. Sethra and the voice seemed detached
from all else.
Aside from the one tear that split the nipple, two other bleeding welts crossed
over the compact tit. Damage was one thing; but it still felt good to hold. The
centurion felt a pulse throbbing in the warm mass as he passed the needle and
thread through the nipple's base.
Sethra stood once more. She had been revived, washed, sutured and now stood on
her own two feet. The scourging was bad, much worse than she expected. The mere
thought brought back revulsion. Thoughts changed to what came next.
Pavement ended past the plateau. Many wagon wheels cut deep ruts in the narrow
trail to the summit. The path was short from where they were, but inclined even
greater than before. Two legionnaires placed the patibulum, or cross beam,
behind Sethra's neck. Lacerated arms were pulled back and over the wood. Ropes
held everything together. They let her bear the full burden. Once sleek legs
quickly bent, as did her upper torso. Shoved forward, her path swayed in seeking
balance. Feet stumbled over the first of the dirt trail, avoiding the deep ruts
as they began the ascent.
Trenus heard Marcianna and the slave girl's screaming protests fade away as they
were led back to town, but his concentration was more on Sethra. Tight lips
cruelly spread. Washing the bitch had been a good idea. Not only had the water
revived, but the lash marks were more distinct over the pale body contours. Only
a few streaks of blond could be seen, and those were mostly along what was left
of the center part. The rest of her hair hung in strands colored dark with
matted blood, gore, grime and sweat. Weight from the patibulm clearly challenged
her. Watching this wild animal killer stumble was much more interesting than
anything Marcianna could ever utter about her fate.
Sethra blinked the sting from her eyes. It was not surprising that she already
bled and sweated. Her heart pounded. Watching footing and balancing the
incredible weight needed all she could see.
Those wearing tunics on this hot day were smart. Exotic perfumes of the wealthy
mixed with forest smells and more baser odors of the poorer. Few togas were seen
on the hillside as the heat sweltered. Military men stoically accepted hot
armor, but stowed woolen red capes.
Patricians sweated with plebians of all sexes. Military merely endured.
Only the tortured was nude. She technically wore the crown and certainly the
marks of lashes and other mistreatments, but for the most part was nude. It had
little to do with the soaring temperatures and everything to do with public
humiliation.
So far, the humiliation aspect of punishment did not seem to be successful,
which only proved to many how wanton and deserving of persecution was this
brazen one.
More stung her vision. Wary of losing any step, she plodded on. Her foot
slipped. The ankle twisted. Sethra gasped as she lost balance and fell. One knee
broke her fall.
Two infantry lifted up each end of the beam. Sethra rose with it. A slave wiped
her face. She could see once more. More of the watered down sour wine burned her
throat. She greedily gulped more. A staff in her back prodded her to continue.
They let her rest on both knees at the summit. Sethra panted and gasped for air.
She ignored the flies. There was no way to twist around and look back to where
she had come, but Sethra was still amazed that she had made it. From the side,
she saw a purple and silver toga appear.
Trenus let his gaze travel into the valley.. From where they were, the hill
sloped down until it reached the valley floor. Brown and green vegetation turned
into a mammoth rock quarry. Across the limestone wound a small fresh water
stream. Naked male slaves could be seen at the spring house toiling with buckets
of water lifted from the stream and onto the aqueduct leading to the city. The
valley opened to a vision of the Gulf of Therhhanian.
He rested a ringed hand on the warm wood and felt it lean toward him as he
placed his weight. "Yes, those across the way, by the stream, are what remain of
your men. Surely, you recall them?"
Sethra blinked away more sweat. She could not forget being forced to service
them. Trenus needed no reply from her to know the answer. He was merely baiting
her.
"And over there is the beautiful water of the bay. But...enough of looking at
the pretty scenery: I have a proposition for you."
She didn't want anything to do with the bastard. He had already caused too much
sorrow. But, she did listen.
"Renounce your cause, whatever that is," he chuckled and removed his hand. "And
I will set you free. Continue in your stubborn ways, and THAT is what awaits
you." He pointed at the tall upright rising from the center of the rocky flat
and smiled to himself as he saw the kneeling Sethra also look.
Its dark shape against the lighter background down below sent shivers through
Sethra. She knew what it was. If she did not agree to Trenus's conditions, she
would hang crucified from it. Her insides knotted.
"Oh, too bad," he mockingly said. "Time's up. Besides, you make a very, very
pretty example."
More orders were shouted. Trenus disappeared from Sethra's side and she felt
herself once more lifted to her feet. The weight of the wood seemed heavier when
all of its heft bent her forward a second time. Someone planted a boot in the
small of her back. Momentum did the rest.
Spectators laughed and tried to keep up with the running nude. Parties scrambled
with her down the slope.
Sethra tried stopping, but the heavy weight on her shoulders and the hill made
that impossible. Feet dug into earth, but just as soon jumped up for another
step as she plummeted closer to the valley floor. The same ankle twisted again.
Sethra fell, and this time did not land on one knee, but on her entire front.
Still, she slid.
Clouds of dust and debris flew from the flying body with the wood across it.
Pebbles, dried grass and dirt scratched as she slid pinned under the patibulm.
Smacking into the small boulder finally stopped her slide. During the slide, her
position had turned parallel to the valley floor. Hitting the rock stopped
forward momentum, but also struck lower ribs. Sethra lay panting. Each quick
breath stabbed more pain. She didn't know if the stop had broken her ribs, or
merely bruised them. It didn't matter, breathing was an effort. Excited voices
grew louder but she did not look up: Just being able to breathe had become all
important.
"Turn her over," the centurion said as he arrived. Soldiers lifted up one edge
of the cross beam and let it and its human cargo tumble over. "Damn, I did good
work, and now look." He cursed. The suturing of the torn nipple had come undone
in the fall. Black gore and thread oozed from the wound. The rest of her was
smeared with blood and grime. "Gets some of those slaves over here and clean her
up."
Trenus arrived after the others-he had far too much dignity to run. The throng
parted to make way for him to reach the fallen. "That ankle looks a bit swollen,
I'm not sure she can make it the rest of the way." He winked at the centurion,
but there was little mirth in his expression.
The centurion caught the message. He paused and then said, "Let's go men. Grab a
foot. We'll drag her to be crucified."
