Losing her loincloth this second time was much worse than the first time. Dorothy looked at the fully clothed people standing around, then at the naked Regulus. Perpetrators and Victims. And she was in the second group.
They took the beam from her and laid it near the second post. Began to push her towards it. Oh, God, how could this be happening to her? Just for one fuck! She saw Phlebas standing there, and tried one last time.
“Please! My lord! Don’t do this! I know the King! He will not be pleased if you crucify me!”
Phlebas’ eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to threaten me, Dorothy Brown? Do you really think that the King will come riding in here and rescue you? It may surprise you to know that I also know the King and I rather doubt that he will do anything of the kind!” He turned to Wragg. “Will you please get this woman nailed to her cross now! And give her an extra thrashing later for her impudence!”
“Very good, Sir! Come on, Gunner – get her on her back, let’s get this done!”
Dorothy fought them every inch of the way, but she knew she was doomed. She screamed, swore, threatened and cursed, then stared in appalled horror at the spike that Wragg held in his hand.
“Fuck! No! That nail’s big enough to hang the city gate! Find something smaller, Wragg, for God’s sake!”
She might as well have been speaking Serbo-Croat for all the notice Wragg took of her. He brought the hammer down onto the nail, and the huge spike tore through Dorothy’s wrist and bit deep into the wood, dislocating and fracturing most of the small bones in her wrist as it did do.
Dorothy screamed ‘OH SHIT!!’, she bucked and thrashed, every nerve in her arm was on fire, screaming to her brain to get her away from this cataclysm of agony that had overwhelmed it. But she was already securely fixed to the beam, and the inability to move simply added panic to terror and torture.
Wragg struck again, forcing small pieces of bone out between her wrist and the cross; and again, the nail gradually grinding through ruined tissue, ripping blood vessels, sinews, and nerves apart on its inexorable journey through her wrist and into the wood.
Four more times he struck that nail, each blow worse than the one before, until he finally stopped, satisfied that the nail was home and that it would support her weight.
Dorothy knew that at all costs she must prevent them from nailing her other wrist. The agony was far, far worse than she had even dreamed to be possible, worse than any human being could be expected to bear. She screamed at them to stop, tried to pull her arm away, bellowed at them how much it hurt, they MUST stop, PLEASE Stop! There must be some word she could say to make them stop!
Wragg seemed to be moving in slow motion, as he got up, and plodded across to her other wrist. She continued to implore him for mercy, screaming to the Gods - maybe they could stop this! Wragg knelt down, positioned the nail, and raised the hammer.
One last-ditch attempt: “No, Mr Wragg, No, Oh, dear God, NNNNOOOO!!!”
This time she knew how bad it was going to be. She shut her eyes tight, but heard the hammer hit the nail a millisecond before the pain came.
Everything was blinding, awful, terrible pain. Her whole world was pain. Nothing made sense any more. She didn’t know where she was, didn’t understand what was happening to her. She’d forgotten her own name - all she understood was that she hurt more than she’d ever hurt in her life. And nothing she could do or say would stop the pain. She lay there, with her outstretched arms pinioned to the beam, howling in agony.
Then, unbelievably, it got worse. They picked up the beam, and began to drag her backwards. Oh, God, couldn’t these wankers giver her one moment? She tried to take some weight on her feet, but the nails tore further into her tortured wrists as they dragged her. Eventually she ended up kneeling with her back to the upright post.
