DOWNPOUR (a short story in 3 parts)
1. A gust of wind casts stinging darts of icy cold rain against my face, forcing me to turn my head away and slow my pace ... only to be jerked forward by the rope tied to an iron collar around my neck.
"Come on, move it!" growls the legionary who leads me down the road. He tugs on the rope again and I stumble forward, nearly losing my footing in the slimy mud of the roadside ditch where I am forced to walk in order to leave the drier pavement free for the use of the Optio and the rest of his hand-picked execution detail.
"Lousy day to draw execution duty," complains one of the soldiers. "I was hoping for a nice long morning of relaxation, snug in my nice warm billet. But here I am instead ... outside, freezing my balls off in a bloody Roman winter rain, all because some important so-and-so decided that this bitch has to be executed this very morning! I tell you, Markus, it's not fair! And, by the way, what did she do anyway?"
"Sedition, Lucius, or so I was told. Seems she was involved in that failed plot to depose the emperor. One of the conspirators named her, under torture, as an accomplice ... they apparently had her carry messages back and forth between the senators plotting the emperor's overthrow. So she was arrested last night, stripped of her rights as a Roman citizen, and condemned to be crucified at first light out here on the road beyond the city gate."
"Pity. A fine-looking young noble woman like her crucified and left to die like a common criminal or slave alongside the road where everyone can see her!"
"Well, she can only blame herself for that!"
As I trudge along in the ditch, reddish-brown mud oozing between my toes, the early morning's steady drizzle becomes a heavy pelting rain. Clad only in the top half of a tunica I shiver. Soaked and nearly transparent, the light linen garment clings embarrassingly to the curves of my body ... nipples hardened in the cold against the fabric ... and beyond where the tunica is torn away at my waist, I feel so shamefully exposed. It's all I have had to wear since I was arrested.
"Here! This is far enough. Let's get it over with!" barks the Optio, calling a halt, and pointing to a patch of slightly raised ground off to the right of the road on which stand a couple of well-used wooden crosses, one bearing the blackened corpse of a male criminal put to death days ago, the other the body of a recently crucified naked young woman. "We'll use one of those crosses. Get over there, pull one down and dispose of its disgusting load. Move lively now!"
I stand still and watch, drops of rainwater running down my face, as the legionaries spring into action, splashing across the ditch to assault the nearest of the crosses, bringing it down with a crash, ripping the male criminal's rotted corpse from it and casting the remains in the ditch.
Turning, they beckon to the legionary they call Lucius, who has stayed behind with me and the optio and now leads me with a tug on my rope toward the empty cross waiting for me on the ground.
I clamber out of the ditch and cover the distance in a few steps, after which strong hands take hold of me. I hang my head, sopping wet hair in my face, as my wrists are untied. The pelting rain turns into a downpour ... rain coming down in sheets driven by a gusting, howling wind.
"Be quick now! Get the remains of that flimsy tunic off her. We don't have time for a proper scourging. Just hold here still, bloody her backside, and get her down on that stipe before the blasted weather gets any worse," shouts the optio above the din of the wind-driven rain rattling on his polished breastplate.
I am quickly stripped of my short little tunic and forced to kneel in the mud. Two legionnaires take their positions behind me and begin to flog my bare back mercilessly with a short multi-thonged whips. The knots at the ends of the thongs tear cruelly at my flesh. Blood and rain water mix and run in rivulets down my ravaged back.
"That'll do. Enough!" grunts the optio, "lay her down now and bring the nails!"
1. A gust of wind casts stinging darts of icy cold rain against my face, forcing me to turn my head away and slow my pace ... only to be jerked forward by the rope tied to an iron collar around my neck.
"Come on, move it!" growls the legionary who leads me down the road. He tugs on the rope again and I stumble forward, nearly losing my footing in the slimy mud of the roadside ditch where I am forced to walk in order to leave the drier pavement free for the use of the Optio and the rest of his hand-picked execution detail.
"Lousy day to draw execution duty," complains one of the soldiers. "I was hoping for a nice long morning of relaxation, snug in my nice warm billet. But here I am instead ... outside, freezing my balls off in a bloody Roman winter rain, all because some important so-and-so decided that this bitch has to be executed this very morning! I tell you, Markus, it's not fair! And, by the way, what did she do anyway?"
"Sedition, Lucius, or so I was told. Seems she was involved in that failed plot to depose the emperor. One of the conspirators named her, under torture, as an accomplice ... they apparently had her carry messages back and forth between the senators plotting the emperor's overthrow. So she was arrested last night, stripped of her rights as a Roman citizen, and condemned to be crucified at first light out here on the road beyond the city gate."
"Pity. A fine-looking young noble woman like her crucified and left to die like a common criminal or slave alongside the road where everyone can see her!"
"Well, she can only blame herself for that!"
As I trudge along in the ditch, reddish-brown mud oozing between my toes, the early morning's steady drizzle becomes a heavy pelting rain. Clad only in the top half of a tunica I shiver. Soaked and nearly transparent, the light linen garment clings embarrassingly to the curves of my body ... nipples hardened in the cold against the fabric ... and beyond where the tunica is torn away at my waist, I feel so shamefully exposed. It's all I have had to wear since I was arrested.
"Here! This is far enough. Let's get it over with!" barks the Optio, calling a halt, and pointing to a patch of slightly raised ground off to the right of the road on which stand a couple of well-used wooden crosses, one bearing the blackened corpse of a male criminal put to death days ago, the other the body of a recently crucified naked young woman. "We'll use one of those crosses. Get over there, pull one down and dispose of its disgusting load. Move lively now!"
I stand still and watch, drops of rainwater running down my face, as the legionaries spring into action, splashing across the ditch to assault the nearest of the crosses, bringing it down with a crash, ripping the male criminal's rotted corpse from it and casting the remains in the ditch.
Turning, they beckon to the legionary they call Lucius, who has stayed behind with me and the optio and now leads me with a tug on my rope toward the empty cross waiting for me on the ground.
I clamber out of the ditch and cover the distance in a few steps, after which strong hands take hold of me. I hang my head, sopping wet hair in my face, as my wrists are untied. The pelting rain turns into a downpour ... rain coming down in sheets driven by a gusting, howling wind.
"Be quick now! Get the remains of that flimsy tunic off her. We don't have time for a proper scourging. Just hold here still, bloody her backside, and get her down on that stipe before the blasted weather gets any worse," shouts the optio above the din of the wind-driven rain rattling on his polished breastplate.
I am quickly stripped of my short little tunic and forced to kneel in the mud. Two legionnaires take their positions behind me and begin to flog my bare back mercilessly with a short multi-thonged whips. The knots at the ends of the thongs tear cruelly at my flesh. Blood and rain water mix and run in rivulets down my ravaged back.
"That'll do. Enough!" grunts the optio, "lay her down now and bring the nails!"
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