J
Juan1234
Guest
Wait - offer? What are you offering? I thought you were begging.
-
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Subtle difference ... I am nobility, don't you ever forget ... be glad I am not "demanding".
J
Juan1234
Guest
Things just got worse for Yupar.
J
Juan1234
Guest
Part 19:
The streets seemed sparse as Muneth and his followers made their way through Rome. With a few exceptions, everyone seemed excited, in a hurry to finish what they were doing and go somewhere else. After a few minutes of wandering, scoping out the city, Muneth approached a nearby soldier.
"Excuse me," he said, in an expert Greek-accented Latin, "We are Greek merchants seeking redress from the Princess of Amunia. She owes us a large sum of money, and we heard she had come to Rome. Can you tell me whom I should speak with about this matter?"
"Well, Sir," the soldier responded with condescension, "I'm afraid no one could help you short of the Emperor now."
"The emperor!?"
"Yes, and of course you can't speak to him."
"Why can no one else help? Surely there is a magistrate...?"
"No, I'm afraid a magistrate could not help you now. All of the princess's possessions are forfeit to the emperor. Even as we speak, she is on her way to the east gate to be crucified."
Muneth lost his words, and just stared at the soldier with intense eyes. When he remembered to shut his mouth, he also remembered that he must show only the disappointment of a defrauded merchant, not of a grieving brother. He lowered his eyes.
"Most likely the emperor will sell her belongings at auction later today. Sometimes they go cheap, though it's less likely in her case," said the soldier. "If it makes you feel any better, you're welcome to watch her crucifixion. If you hurry, you'll likely be in time to see the nailing."
"Thank you," said Muneth, looking down and starting to walk by, purposelessly. Then he turned back: "The east gate, you said?"
Meanwhile, Rego kept pace with Kirana's death march, watching almost frantically, heart pounding, still unable to cut through the web of his own thoughts and desires. He would need his horse if he were to make the convincing display of authority necessary. No, there wasn't time! The east gate was approaching in the distance. If he didn't step forward soon...
No, he could wait until they arrived at her stipes. That would be the natural time to interrupt the proceedings. Maybe he should wait until after they nailed her down. Maybe the crowds would lose interest by nightfall, and it would be safer....
No - let Kirana be nailed to the cross? Let her hang there for hours? He looked at her hunched, yet elegant figure trudging toward the gate, and he could hardly bear the thought.
For Kirana's part, she found herself pitying the masses around her, as they pelted her with insults, and the occasional stone, though Brutus discouraged the latter. Many of these people lived in a kind of squalor she would never have allowed in Amunia. The pain of her cross chafing her raw shoulder did not lessen, nor the constant burning sting of the lashes on her bare back, which seemed to flare to a new and unbearable level with every move she made; and yet her racing mind found itself drawn to the thought of what she could have done for these people, had she been their queen. But it only made it all the more humiliating to see them pointing and guffawing at her bare nipples and the loose, low way her gown hung about her hips. She felt if she was not careful, it would fall off altogether.
One more step, she told herself. Death is near. And then of course, the gut-wrenching truth: death was not near. The nails were near. Total nudity before the crowd was near. A greater agony was near. But death was not near.
Suddenly, Rego stood before her. She looked up in surprise. So did Brutus. Rego held up his hand, and the crowd noise lessened.
"I have decided," Rego started, interrupting himself to swallow, "to make this Amunian woman my slave!" Silence. Kirana glared. Rego tried to signal something to her with his eyes, but couldn't risk much. "She shall serve me, and her body shall be my property for life!"
Silence.
Kirana's eyes grew narrower.
"I would rather die," she said, with regal defiance.
(To be continued...)
The streets seemed sparse as Muneth and his followers made their way through Rome. With a few exceptions, everyone seemed excited, in a hurry to finish what they were doing and go somewhere else. After a few minutes of wandering, scoping out the city, Muneth approached a nearby soldier.
"Excuse me," he said, in an expert Greek-accented Latin, "We are Greek merchants seeking redress from the Princess of Amunia. She owes us a large sum of money, and we heard she had come to Rome. Can you tell me whom I should speak with about this matter?"
"Well, Sir," the soldier responded with condescension, "I'm afraid no one could help you short of the Emperor now."
"The emperor!?"
"Yes, and of course you can't speak to him."
"Why can no one else help? Surely there is a magistrate...?"
"No, I'm afraid a magistrate could not help you now. All of the princess's possessions are forfeit to the emperor. Even as we speak, she is on her way to the east gate to be crucified."
Muneth lost his words, and just stared at the soldier with intense eyes. When he remembered to shut his mouth, he also remembered that he must show only the disappointment of a defrauded merchant, not of a grieving brother. He lowered his eyes.
"Most likely the emperor will sell her belongings at auction later today. Sometimes they go cheap, though it's less likely in her case," said the soldier. "If it makes you feel any better, you're welcome to watch her crucifixion. If you hurry, you'll likely be in time to see the nailing."
"Thank you," said Muneth, looking down and starting to walk by, purposelessly. Then he turned back: "The east gate, you said?"
Meanwhile, Rego kept pace with Kirana's death march, watching almost frantically, heart pounding, still unable to cut through the web of his own thoughts and desires. He would need his horse if he were to make the convincing display of authority necessary. No, there wasn't time! The east gate was approaching in the distance. If he didn't step forward soon...
No, he could wait until they arrived at her stipes. That would be the natural time to interrupt the proceedings. Maybe he should wait until after they nailed her down. Maybe the crowds would lose interest by nightfall, and it would be safer....
No - let Kirana be nailed to the cross? Let her hang there for hours? He looked at her hunched, yet elegant figure trudging toward the gate, and he could hardly bear the thought.
For Kirana's part, she found herself pitying the masses around her, as they pelted her with insults, and the occasional stone, though Brutus discouraged the latter. Many of these people lived in a kind of squalor she would never have allowed in Amunia. The pain of her cross chafing her raw shoulder did not lessen, nor the constant burning sting of the lashes on her bare back, which seemed to flare to a new and unbearable level with every move she made; and yet her racing mind found itself drawn to the thought of what she could have done for these people, had she been their queen. But it only made it all the more humiliating to see them pointing and guffawing at her bare nipples and the loose, low way her gown hung about her hips. She felt if she was not careful, it would fall off altogether.
One more step, she told herself. Death is near. And then of course, the gut-wrenching truth: death was not near. The nails were near. Total nudity before the crowd was near. A greater agony was near. But death was not near.
Suddenly, Rego stood before her. She looked up in surprise. So did Brutus. Rego held up his hand, and the crowd noise lessened.
"I have decided," Rego started, interrupting himself to swallow, "to make this Amunian woman my slave!" Silence. Kirana glared. Rego tried to signal something to her with his eyes, but couldn't risk much. "She shall serve me, and her body shall be my property for life!"
Silence.
Kirana's eyes grew narrower.
"I would rather die," she said, with regal defiance.
(To be continued...)
shastar
Tribune
Excellent as always. I was expecting this. The best way to take revenge on someone is to refuse his mercy...
Oh my, an unforeseen twist. I straighten up under the weight of my burden and stand there with my gown hanging from my hips, nearly falling off, thrust out my chest defiantly and speak my mind!
shastar
Tribune
The girl has guts, that's for sure. Was she a man, I'd take her as my confident. No hope for me, she's doomed !
Excellent as always. I was expecting this. The best way to take revenge on someone is to refuse his mercy...
As she should! He professes love, but leaves her for the Emperor to crucify. He wants to save her, but lets Brutus scourge her half to death. He waffles on whether he has the courage to defend her, abandoning her to her fate. Now he finally screws up the courage to take her, a princess, and he thinks she'll be grateful to live her life as a slave. No, our princess is made of sterner stuff. This Rego is worthless, to both Emperor and to the princess. He has failed everyone.
Death to Rego. (Hail Princess. Perhaps your brother will save you. Don't give up hope.)
shastar
Tribune
Ah Jolly, indeed it's you...The Compassionate and brave. You fought bravely as a legionnaire. You even won a parcel of conquered land. So, what's the problem with you ?
J
Juan1234
Guest
Part 20:
Rego was stunned. She didn't understand! He had to behave brutally in front of the crowd! She didn't understand what he had risked for her sake, or how tenderly he would nurse her back to health, in some remote hide-out, high in the Alps. She didn't understand that he had just thrown his life away for her! And to think of the fate she had just sealed upon herself, because of a misunderstanding...! She didn't even understand the magnitude of her sentence! Yet as his heart poured out all the passionate incoherencies of grief and unrequited love, "Recover!" snapped his head.
"Thank you, Princess!" Brutus broke the silence, "I was beginning to think I'd come all the way from Gaul for nothing!"
The crowd laughed. Kirana hadn't heard. She was still glaring at Rego, who stared back with a dazed horror. It was immensely satisfying to slip from his grasp, choosing death over dishonor, and yet as she stood there, half naked, carrying the instrument of her execution, she began to pity him. Then the moment was past, and the death march resumed, and nothing had changed. She was back where she had been a moment ago - a condemned woman on her way to the cross. Her belly churned as she fought regret. How could slavery be more dishonorable than crucifixion?
Rego slipped back into the crowd. "Stupid girl," he said to the man to his left, trying to smile and make light of the whole thing. He was desperate.
On and on Kirana staggered, as the sound of the whips and Yupar's cries occasionally cut above the noise of the masses. Kirana wondered who was flogging Yupar.
As she walked, the thought came to Kirana that this was very much like the wedding ceremony she had always dreamed of, back in Amunia. Her father had promised her hand to the general who would finally defeat the Romans. In accordance with Amunian tradition, she was to leave the palace at the center of the city wearing a simple tunic. As she paraded through the streets, she would gradually be adorned with more and more clothing and jewelry, until she arrived at the city gate to greet her groom, the conquering general, on his return from battle. Then the two would parade back into the city.
She had always longed for that day, but not without a certain apprehension, as she had never been comfortable in the public eye. She almost dreaded having the eyes of all Amunia on her. Now she had the eyes of all Rome on her, and instead of being adorned in finery, she was being stripped naked. Instead of her wedding day, this was her execution day. Instead of meeting her groom outside the gate, she would meet her cross. And she would never return to the city.
When she finally passed under the eastern gate, Kirana had lost all notion of time. It seemed she had spent all day standing at the whipping posts and then marching though the city. In fact it was still an hour or so before midday. At the sight of the stipes along the road, her heart pounded harder, and she nearly fell to her knees. There were more than a dozen stakes lining both sides of the road, each taller than a man. To her right, about three crosses down, there hung a naked man. The rest were empty and many without crossbeams. Which one was hers, she wondered. Which of these stakes would be her final home?
As if in answer, Brutus pointed out the second cross on the left.
"That one is yours," he said in her ear. "That's where you'll die." Kirana closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Where was Rego? "Well!?" Brutus continued, "Get up there!" She turned and stumbled up the ridge to the base of her cross, followed closely by Brutus and his men. "Set it down," Brutus instructed, and Kirana dropped the platibulum just a few feet from the stipes. For a surreal moment, she stood there bare-breasted atop the ridge with Brutus and the other two men, all four surveying the road below. Even before the procession had come through the gate, the road had teamed with travelers. So many people! And they were all there to see her. The thought almost took her breath away.
Soon, Brutus' henchmen pushed her back up against the stipes and fitted a pair of manacles around her wrists behind her. She hadn't noticed the manacles hanging from the stipes when she had come here just two days ago. (Two days!? It was hard to believe.) But now she saw that almost all of the stakes were equipped with them. They were too low to allow her to stand up straight, so she knelt. But she could not sit on her heels comfortably - the manacles were too high. So she knelt with her thighs up and breasts out, her arms pulled straight back behind her.
When the pounding and blacksmithing was complete, Brutus and his men stepped back.
"Now we wait for Maximus," he said, with a sickening smirk.
(To be continued...)
Rego was stunned. She didn't understand! He had to behave brutally in front of the crowd! She didn't understand what he had risked for her sake, or how tenderly he would nurse her back to health, in some remote hide-out, high in the Alps. She didn't understand that he had just thrown his life away for her! And to think of the fate she had just sealed upon herself, because of a misunderstanding...! She didn't even understand the magnitude of her sentence! Yet as his heart poured out all the passionate incoherencies of grief and unrequited love, "Recover!" snapped his head.
"Thank you, Princess!" Brutus broke the silence, "I was beginning to think I'd come all the way from Gaul for nothing!"
The crowd laughed. Kirana hadn't heard. She was still glaring at Rego, who stared back with a dazed horror. It was immensely satisfying to slip from his grasp, choosing death over dishonor, and yet as she stood there, half naked, carrying the instrument of her execution, she began to pity him. Then the moment was past, and the death march resumed, and nothing had changed. She was back where she had been a moment ago - a condemned woman on her way to the cross. Her belly churned as she fought regret. How could slavery be more dishonorable than crucifixion?
Rego slipped back into the crowd. "Stupid girl," he said to the man to his left, trying to smile and make light of the whole thing. He was desperate.
On and on Kirana staggered, as the sound of the whips and Yupar's cries occasionally cut above the noise of the masses. Kirana wondered who was flogging Yupar.
As she walked, the thought came to Kirana that this was very much like the wedding ceremony she had always dreamed of, back in Amunia. Her father had promised her hand to the general who would finally defeat the Romans. In accordance with Amunian tradition, she was to leave the palace at the center of the city wearing a simple tunic. As she paraded through the streets, she would gradually be adorned with more and more clothing and jewelry, until she arrived at the city gate to greet her groom, the conquering general, on his return from battle. Then the two would parade back into the city.
She had always longed for that day, but not without a certain apprehension, as she had never been comfortable in the public eye. She almost dreaded having the eyes of all Amunia on her. Now she had the eyes of all Rome on her, and instead of being adorned in finery, she was being stripped naked. Instead of her wedding day, this was her execution day. Instead of meeting her groom outside the gate, she would meet her cross. And she would never return to the city.
When she finally passed under the eastern gate, Kirana had lost all notion of time. It seemed she had spent all day standing at the whipping posts and then marching though the city. In fact it was still an hour or so before midday. At the sight of the stipes along the road, her heart pounded harder, and she nearly fell to her knees. There were more than a dozen stakes lining both sides of the road, each taller than a man. To her right, about three crosses down, there hung a naked man. The rest were empty and many without crossbeams. Which one was hers, she wondered. Which of these stakes would be her final home?
As if in answer, Brutus pointed out the second cross on the left.
"That one is yours," he said in her ear. "That's where you'll die." Kirana closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Where was Rego? "Well!?" Brutus continued, "Get up there!" She turned and stumbled up the ridge to the base of her cross, followed closely by Brutus and his men. "Set it down," Brutus instructed, and Kirana dropped the platibulum just a few feet from the stipes. For a surreal moment, she stood there bare-breasted atop the ridge with Brutus and the other two men, all four surveying the road below. Even before the procession had come through the gate, the road had teamed with travelers. So many people! And they were all there to see her. The thought almost took her breath away.
Soon, Brutus' henchmen pushed her back up against the stipes and fitted a pair of manacles around her wrists behind her. She hadn't noticed the manacles hanging from the stipes when she had come here just two days ago. (Two days!? It was hard to believe.) But now she saw that almost all of the stakes were equipped with them. They were too low to allow her to stand up straight, so she knelt. But she could not sit on her heels comfortably - the manacles were too high. So she knelt with her thighs up and breasts out, her arms pulled straight back behind her.
When the pounding and blacksmithing was complete, Brutus and his men stepped back.
"Now we wait for Maximus," he said, with a sickening smirk.
(To be continued...)
Oh, the thought of this being the reverse of my wedding ceremony march, in which I gathered adornments to my attire and the adoration of my subjects, is so humiliating. Instead I have been shamed, bared to the waist and ridiculed before anything but an admiring crowd. And here I am, out on the road ... the road with so many starkly standing posts, and such horrors written into its roadscape. I am manacled, kneeling at the second post. Is there any significance in that? Does the second post have some kind of meaning? And the crowd is huge. They keep streaming out through the east gate, and gathering around, jostling for the best view of the spectacle to come. I can hear vendors hawking food and drink, and the buzz of conversation ... everyone talking at once about me ... catcalls and guffaws ... jeers and taunts ... lewd comments about my bare breasts and erect nipples. I want to hang my head and stare at the ground. If only I could close my ears to the things that are being said.
J
Juan1234
Guest
Part 21:
The ridge was not a high one. Kirana's head was only a little above those of the tallest men in the crowd as she knelt before her stipes, arms and shoulders back, breasts bared, her platibulum on the scrubby ground before her. Waiting. There were hundreds of them, all crowding around her, screaming insults, mocking her, held just a few paces away by a squad of guards. She waited, her bruised ribs aching, her lacerated back burning. Brutus and his men had left her and were busy with something on the other side of the road. Who was Maximus?
Suddenly two men carrying crosses emerged from the throng before her, driven by more guards or soldiers. She hadn't noticed them until they appeared from the crowd. They wore only rough, dusty loincloths and the tituli around their necks. One was very young - probably not old enough to shave - and rather thin. There was frenzied terror in his wide eyes. The other was older, with gray in his beard, though his shoulder-length hair was still thick and mostly dark. His face was tanned and creased, and his stomach bulged just a little despite his muscular frame. He looked bitter and resigned. The younger was "Benjamin - Thief," and the older "Lemuel - Murderer."
They marched up the ridge right next to Kirana. Benjamin looked at her with scared eyes unchanged. Lemuel grimaced at her and let out a bitter snort.
"Did you bring this crowd to watch us?" he asked, and spat at her. She could only watch, half pitying them, half dreading her own fate. She had seen men hanging on the crosses, but she had never actually seen a man being nailed down.
"Uncle," whined Benjamin.
"Shut up, you little whelp!" the older man growled. The guards snickered, leading the two criminals to adjacent crosses with one cross between them and Kirana. They set down their platibula and were left standing in their loincloths for a moment.
"Uncle, I'm sorry..." whined Benjamin. An executioner came behind the boy and tugged his loincloth off his hips so that it fell to his ankles. He shuddered in his nakedness.
"You know, Ben," said Lemuel, as an executioner came behind him to strip him of his last garment, "I told your father you were too stupid to work with us." The loincloth fell, and he kicked it away, glaring at his nephew. "I knew you'd get us killed, and I was right."
The guards then shoved the older man to the ground and began binding his arms to the beam. Benjamin still stood with his legs together, his loincloth around his ankles. As an executioner approached him, he looked ready to cry with fright. "I need to pee," he squeaked.
"Oh?" said the executioner, smiling. Then he led the naked boy over to Kirana. "Pee on her," he ordered. With nothing in his wide eyes but fear and shame, Benjamin looked at the princess and let his urine flow to land on her naked chest. It stung her open wounds, and she looked up at him, unable to hate him, unable to believe the humiliation she was being made to endure.
"In her face, too," prodded the executioner, and the boy raised the stream to hit her forehead, her nose and eyes, and her soft cheeks. Kirana shook her head to avoid it, but with little effect other than to get it all over her. Then it was over, and she watched, urine dripping down her face, down her neck, down her chest, as Benjamin was led back to be tied to his cross. With her hands manacled behind her, she could only shake her head, squint her eyes, and blow through her lips and nose to minimize the discomfort of the dripping urine on her face.
Next she heard an unearthly roar from Lemuel, and realized they had just begun nailing him to his cross. She knew that having the nail driven through her wrist would be painful - probably more painful than anything she had ever experienced - but she was unprepared for such a desperate roar from such a strong, grown man. It sent shivers through her as she watched, albeit from some distance, as Lemuel's cross was on the other side of Benjamin's. Again came the roar, and again, each time weaker and more despairing. She could tell the man's body was bucking and twisting and kicking and writhing as they drove in the nails. Her heart pounded and her stomach flipped. Soon - very soon - she would be nailed in the same way to the beam lying before her in the dust and scrub.
Soon Benjamin was screaming and howling hysterically. How much would it hurt to be nailed to the wood? Is there a limit to pain? Would she howl and flip around like a fish, as these men did? Would she have any choice?
Kirana couldn't help but watch as the men were hoisted, screaming, onto their stipes.
Soon Brutus was before her again.
"Maximus is here!" he shouted eagerly in her urine-dripping face, gesturing eastward, up the road, away from the city.
(To be continued...)
The ridge was not a high one. Kirana's head was only a little above those of the tallest men in the crowd as she knelt before her stipes, arms and shoulders back, breasts bared, her platibulum on the scrubby ground before her. Waiting. There were hundreds of them, all crowding around her, screaming insults, mocking her, held just a few paces away by a squad of guards. She waited, her bruised ribs aching, her lacerated back burning. Brutus and his men had left her and were busy with something on the other side of the road. Who was Maximus?
Suddenly two men carrying crosses emerged from the throng before her, driven by more guards or soldiers. She hadn't noticed them until they appeared from the crowd. They wore only rough, dusty loincloths and the tituli around their necks. One was very young - probably not old enough to shave - and rather thin. There was frenzied terror in his wide eyes. The other was older, with gray in his beard, though his shoulder-length hair was still thick and mostly dark. His face was tanned and creased, and his stomach bulged just a little despite his muscular frame. He looked bitter and resigned. The younger was "Benjamin - Thief," and the older "Lemuel - Murderer."
They marched up the ridge right next to Kirana. Benjamin looked at her with scared eyes unchanged. Lemuel grimaced at her and let out a bitter snort.
"Did you bring this crowd to watch us?" he asked, and spat at her. She could only watch, half pitying them, half dreading her own fate. She had seen men hanging on the crosses, but she had never actually seen a man being nailed down.
"Uncle," whined Benjamin.
"Shut up, you little whelp!" the older man growled. The guards snickered, leading the two criminals to adjacent crosses with one cross between them and Kirana. They set down their platibula and were left standing in their loincloths for a moment.
"Uncle, I'm sorry..." whined Benjamin. An executioner came behind the boy and tugged his loincloth off his hips so that it fell to his ankles. He shuddered in his nakedness.
"You know, Ben," said Lemuel, as an executioner came behind him to strip him of his last garment, "I told your father you were too stupid to work with us." The loincloth fell, and he kicked it away, glaring at his nephew. "I knew you'd get us killed, and I was right."
The guards then shoved the older man to the ground and began binding his arms to the beam. Benjamin still stood with his legs together, his loincloth around his ankles. As an executioner approached him, he looked ready to cry with fright. "I need to pee," he squeaked.
"Oh?" said the executioner, smiling. Then he led the naked boy over to Kirana. "Pee on her," he ordered. With nothing in his wide eyes but fear and shame, Benjamin looked at the princess and let his urine flow to land on her naked chest. It stung her open wounds, and she looked up at him, unable to hate him, unable to believe the humiliation she was being made to endure.
"In her face, too," prodded the executioner, and the boy raised the stream to hit her forehead, her nose and eyes, and her soft cheeks. Kirana shook her head to avoid it, but with little effect other than to get it all over her. Then it was over, and she watched, urine dripping down her face, down her neck, down her chest, as Benjamin was led back to be tied to his cross. With her hands manacled behind her, she could only shake her head, squint her eyes, and blow through her lips and nose to minimize the discomfort of the dripping urine on her face.
Next she heard an unearthly roar from Lemuel, and realized they had just begun nailing him to his cross. She knew that having the nail driven through her wrist would be painful - probably more painful than anything she had ever experienced - but she was unprepared for such a desperate roar from such a strong, grown man. It sent shivers through her as she watched, albeit from some distance, as Lemuel's cross was on the other side of Benjamin's. Again came the roar, and again, each time weaker and more despairing. She could tell the man's body was bucking and twisting and kicking and writhing as they drove in the nails. Her heart pounded and her stomach flipped. Soon - very soon - she would be nailed in the same way to the beam lying before her in the dust and scrub.
Soon Benjamin was screaming and howling hysterically. How much would it hurt to be nailed to the wood? Is there a limit to pain? Would she howl and flip around like a fish, as these men did? Would she have any choice?
Kirana couldn't help but watch as the men were hoisted, screaming, onto their stipes.
Soon Brutus was before her again.
"Maximus is here!" he shouted eagerly in her urine-dripping face, gesturing eastward, up the road, away from the city.
(To be continued...)
Ohhhh, this is going to be far worse than I ever imagined. I don't want to be nailed!!!
shastar
Tribune
J
Juan1234
Guest
To moderators, or anybody else: This line really should read:
Kirana smiled, pitying him. "Could you have loved me, Rego?" she asked softly.
I don't think I can change it anymore, but maybe a moderator can???
J
Juan1234
Guest
Thanks!
Glad to do it but which post is it in (Number is in the lower right).
J
Juan1234
Guest
Thanks! It's post #85.
done
