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Roman Siege

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thehangingtree

thehangingtree

Proconsul
Staff member
They burned our village and killed every man, child and older women. They took the couple dozen of us in our late teens to early thirties that looked ‘appealing’ to their captain then slaughtered the rest. We were stripped naked and our wrists were bound behind our backs. We were loaded into caged carts that were more befitting to haul swine than humans and by the smell probably had. There is no room to move in the cages and we are jostled against each and the bars as the carts traverse the rotted path. We are given no food or water and if we need to relieve ourselves there are the wood slats on which we sit.

It is deep into the night when we arrive at an encampment of roman soldiers and mercenaries. Blankets are thrown over the cages and the gate of my wagon is opened. It would be my luck to fall out into the hands of these butchers. The gate is shut and locked and a wood bit is shoved into my mouth with a coarse rope tied behind my head to insure it stayed there. Then a coarse heavy sack is pulled over my head. I am half led and half dragged to… wherever they took me. The rope that had been biting the flesh of my wrists is removed but before I can stretch my arms strong hands grab them and slam me back onto the rough bark of a downed tree trunk. My arms are bound above my head and out a foot from my shoulders. More hands grab my lower legs and I feel the sole of one foot on the bark and the sole of the other on the first foot’s arch. I dawns on me they are going to…

…Oh, what pain! What agony! What has been done to me? The hood is off my head. When did that happen? I look up at the first light in the spring sky and wonder what is going on. I groan as I raise my head and look down my body. My knees are raised and spread and beyond them are my feet. Oh, but not just my feet! A square shanked spike has them pinned against the face of the trunk. I try to reach for them when I realize I can’t move my arms. I am nailed to a cross!

I want to cry out but the wood bit still fills my mouth. I look at my wrists. The god awful spikes are through them to. Then I hear hammers hitting iron. I look farther and find my sister next to me already nailed to her cross. She looks at me with tears in her eyes and her mouth pulled into an obscene smile by the bit it her mouth. Why didn’t they just kill us with the others?
tht
 
nice start
 
They nail six of us to the rough crosses. We lay on them wondering what is next. I look at my young sister and wish somehow I could comfort her. My thought is interrupted by one of the mercenaries pissing on my face. My life has been shattered by these bastards that call themselves men. Not that it could happen; I would make them pay for this. Three men lift the cross I am nailed to and carry it, with me, up the mound overlooking the walled fort. They lay the cross with my feet above my head and walk down the hill to fetch the next cross and carry it with my sister Eulalia to the top of the hill next to me.

A succession of crosses follows; friends, acquaintances; until six of us lay nailed to our crosses near the top of the hillock overlooking the walled city. They take the bit out of my mouth and I hiss at the other women “Do not dare to think to call out in pain!”

It wasn’t until they raised my cross did I realize what a tall order that would be. The cross is crude and tears at the skin of my back. The young roman soldier that commands these bastards looks down at me. He is barely old enough to be called a man yet strong and handsome… and already corrupted by his roman empire. He laughs an orders “Raise this bitch first…”

tree
 
I clinch my teeth as the crude cross is raised. ‘They aren’t much in the line of carpenters’ I think. ‘Oh, God, no!’ The base of the cross disappears into the hole. The cross and I fall quickly then violently stop. I am stunned by the searing pain as my body pulls the spikes through flesh and muscle before crashing into the bones of my hands. I watch with surreal dispassion as wedges of wood are hammered between the wood of the cross… MY cross… and the dirt sides of the hole.
The cross rocks and I become aware the bark has ripped into the skin of my back. As little effort as possible was spent on my crucifixion. If my feet were not nailed to the wood I could stand with my arms bent. A single spike held the crossbeam to the upright to keep it from sliding down the post and a length of rope was wrapped around the two pieces of wood to keep them from pulling apart. The crossbeam is fixed on the opposite side of the upright from me, stretching my arms and chest in a way I cannot fathom why I my bosom is not torn asunder. As I move I feel the crossbar wobble side to side and rise on one end and fall on the other.
The roman yells down at the fortified village “That is the first one. One will follow every hour…”
tree
 
"The roman yells down at the fortified village “That is the first one. One will follow every hour…”
I'll bet he made the trains run on time as well!
 
melissa said:
"The roman yells down at the fortified village “That is the first one. One will follow every hour…”
I'll bet he made the trains run on time as well!
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Nah, that took the dagos to do that...

My mother had a cousin (second or third, once or twice removed) that was in the Italian army in WWII who related his joy of being 'captured' by the American army. As the Americans advance the German army would retreat and the Italiansoldiers would stand fast... and lay down there rifles and greet the Americans. He ended the war as a POW that was trusted to clean and maintain allied weopons...

I imagine he could build a good cross, too...

tree
 
thehangingtree said:
Nah, that took the dagos to do that...

My mother had a cousin (second or third, once or twice removed) that was in the Italian army in WWII who related his joy of being 'captured' by the American army. As the Americans advance the German army would retreat and the Italiansoldiers would stand fast... and lay down there rifles and greet the Americans. He ended the war as a POW that was trusted to clean and maintain allied weopons...

I imagine he could build a good cross, too...

tree
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:confused:
 
thehangingtree said:
I clinch my teeth as the crude cross is raised. ‘They aren’t much in the line of carpenters’ I think. ‘Oh, God, no!’ The base of the cross disappears into the hole. The cross and I fall quickly then violently stop. I am stunned by the searing pain as my body pulls the spikes through flesh and muscle before crashing into the bones of my hands. I watch with surreal dispassion as wedges of wood are hammered between the wood of the cross… MY cross… and the dirt sides of the hole.
The cross rocks and I become aware the bark has ripped into the skin of my back. As little effort as possible was spent on my crucifixion. If my feet were not nailed to the wood I could stand with my arms bent. A single spike held the crossbeam to the upright to keep it from sliding down the post and a length of rope was wrapped around the two pieces of wood to keep them from pulling apart. The crossbeam is fixed on the opposite side of the upright from me, stretching my arms and chest in a way I cannot fathom why I my bosom is not torn asunder. As I move I feel the crossbar wobble side to side and rise on one end and fall on the other.
The roman yells down at the fortified village “That is the first one. One will follow every hour…”
tree
Click to expand...

A good start to a long story and include both genders in the Romans' work.
 
So I am the first to have my cross raised. The bastards take the bit from my mouth just to be sure my anguished cry would echo through the valley. I do howl as the stipe hammers home at the bottom of the hole and my wounds are torn open by the shanks of the spikes. I spend the next hour desperately trying to find a comfortable position but none is to be found. The sun has risen over the tree line. I hear a shriek below and behind me. The roman has taken the bit from her mouth and his mercenaries are lifting her and her cross up.

She howls like I do when her cross bottoms in its hole. I yell at them calling them every word that I had never dared use before while they drive the wedges around the base of her cross. We they finish they walk past me. One takes a moment to spit in my face. I hear the groaning voice of my sister say “I’ve never seen the village from up here. It’s a nice view.”

“Hi, Messaline” I say. “What took you so long to join me?”

“That fucking roman soldier is kind of a control freak. You know you shit on yourself, Eulalia?” she replies. I look at her and say “Did you know you did yourself, sis?”

She didn’t look down. “I thought I might have. I was hoping I hadn’t…”

tree
 
The mercenaries scooped up the third cross. If they are doing one an hour I’ve been crucified for two hours. My body feels pain beyond what I could imagine or dread but I also know I am nowhere near death. Eulalia and I cannot help but watch as they raise our cousin Marie and drop her cross in its hole. Her head chin bounces on her chest but she does not cry out. Her skin looks ashen and her wrists barely trickle blood. Her feet surrender a bit more but nothing like Eulalia’s or mine did. What little blood there is is dark and slow to run down her skin.

Eulalia calls to her but there is no answer. Slowly something starts to drip from her mouth. Eulalia is still trying to awake her but I know what has happened. When she was nailed to her cross she vomited. With the bit in her mouth she choked on it.

“Eul, she’d dead” I said. “They just hung our dead cousin…”

“Oh, no, she can’t be dead” Eulalia cried. I thought she might have gotten the best deal any of us would get…
tree
 
They are picking up Mary’s cross. She is screaming curse words that I have never heard… until the cross bottoms in the hole. Like Messa and me the hit knocks the wind out of her. While the mercenaries are driving the wedges around the base she swings her hips so she her bottom was over one of the men and pisses on him. Laughing she mocks “You stink worse than a skunk. I will bathe you.”

He is not amused and jumps to his feet. He lands a hard punch in her belly and would have done more but the roman captain stopped him. After a while she gets her breath back. She looks past Marie’s body at me and sis. “Damn this hurts like hell!”

“You’ll get used to it” Messa says. She asks “Really?’

Mess and I say at the same time “NO!”

I’ve been hanging crucified for more than three hours. The pain is horrible but I know I am not close to dying. I also know that’s one of the reasons we were not slaughtered at our village. The captain selected the healthiest of the women so we would take the longest to die. I kind of wish they had taken us so they could satisfy their needs at will. The captain is satisfied Mary’s cross is secure and walks down the line of crosses. As he passes by I say “So I guess you and your boys satisfy yourselves. Do you do it by hand or up each other’s ass?”

His face is red with anger. Glaring at me he says “You will not find it so funny in few hours from now, you Gaelic cunt.”

“I don’t see any humor in this now, you little barbarian.”

Before he answers Mary have pushed up with her feet and is yelling down to the village. “If there are not men among you willing to fight would you mind saving us some suffering and just surrender?”

The captain is pleased with what he hears, smiles at me, and walks off…
tree... starting Friday early in the midwestern US
 
You wake up horny out there in the Midwest? ;)​
Great storytelling Tree, as ever!​
 
thehangingtree said:
...wake up ...go to sleep ...pretty much always. But you have to remember its less than seven miles to the coffee shop where there is great inspiration...

tree

View attachment 36933
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Pop in for a quickie any time Tree,​
always hot and steaming for you​
;)​
 
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