As Barbaria was struggling to cover the last meters separating her from the top of the oppidum, she heard piercing shrieks rising from the courtyard she left half an hour ago. Eulalia was obviously being nailed to the tree on which she'd been tortured before. The Queen's heart sank and tears rolled down her cheeks. Poor Eulalia... Her friend, her confident... She had been faithful to the end, to the point of accepting being tortured and dying a slow, humiliating and agonizing death. The price of her loyalty.
'Will I scream like that, too? Or will I be able to suffer the nails with some semblance of royal dignity?' She then asked herself.
As she reached the esplanade, her feet and shoulders bleeding, covered in sweat and stumbling in exhaustion, she could see that several hundreds of spectators - townsfolk, legionaries and followers of the roman army - were gathering there.The Romans didn't just planned to kill her. No. They wanted to make a spectacle of her death. For a moment, the thought strengthened her resolve. But then she had a better look at the tall vertical post waiting for her.
Two short wooden stakes formed a “T” near its top and below that, a groove had been carved for the fitting of a crossbar. The very crossbar she was carrying right now. Long ropes were dangling from the stakes, down to the ground.
Poor Eulalia! But nothing I can do for her now. We all must look to ourselves at this point. Damn, a crowd! Of course he wants to make a spectacle of my execution. And everything is ready too. They will hoist me up with those ropes and I will writhe, and wiggle and buck and jerk and twist about ... there will be jeers and cheers, lewd remarks, bets on how long and what ways I can humiliate myself hanging naked on that cross. The tears in my eyes cloud my vision. The posts waver in the harsh glare of the sun. It will be beastly hot up there on that cross too. This couldn't be worse! What am I to do? I stumble, a lash across my already bloody back. I struggle to my feet. The crossbar weighs so much! I lurch forward, bent over, breasts swaying. Another lash, this time across my breasts. I wince with pain, and plod ahead. Not too much farther now. The crowd is getting larger every minute. I hate this so much!