Caius, Gladiator of Rome, Part 3

[Xandi55]

I offer the third part of this Gladiator-Story in the Roman Empire. First and second part don't deal with crucifixion. If readers desire, I may post them, too. Enjoy.


Part 3
After the night of the great feast, in which Caius was tortured for hours for the entertainment of the Lanista's guests, the Lanista allowed him a week of recovery before Caius began training again with the other gladiators in the Ludus. His body was still marked with dark welts and bruises. Scabs covered the wounds the scourge had torn into his skin.

But Caius wanted to train hard again and get back into the shape he had achieved before the torture. Even though the scars still hurt, as did his muscles from cramping when he fought the pain, he wanted and needed to sweat and exercise again. He was proud to show off his scars in the arena of the Ludus. He noticed that the other gladiators respected him for how he had gotten through that night. That he took the pain like a man, not begging for mercy.
But more importantly, he wanted to be a gladiator. And in order to survive in the arena, he had to be able to endure pain. But above all, he had to be a good fighter. And he knew that in a few weeks he would face the first of the gladiatorial tests, which he would have to pass in order to be allowed to fight in an arena in front of the people of Rome.

That test was called the “Endurance Test of the gladiators”. It has always consisted of a fight between two aspiring gladiators, which was fought with wooden weapons without interruption until both fighters were absolutely exhausted. They carried all their armour with the exception of the Manica. Because the upper body, especially the back, had to remain free to receive countless lashes. Because in addition to the gladiators, two more men entered the arena: the Drivers!

The Drivers each carried a very long braided leather whip with which they could whip the gladiators from several feet away. Because it wasn't the fight with wooden weapons that was crucial for passing the test, but rather enduring fighting for as long as possible and with ever-increasing exhaustion and at the same time increasing pain from weapon hits and whip lashes.
In addition to those long whips the drivers also had two short whips with heavy leather straps bound to their belts.

So while the long whips were intended to drive the gladiators into battle, the short whips were used to whip an exhausted gladiator back to his feet after he went down to the ground!

Usually, the new gladiators were first sent to smaller arenas in smaller towns to gain their first experience with sharp weapons. But since the Colosseum existed in Rome, it absorbed everything. All fights, all gladiators. It devoured men and animals of all kinds. The fights and performances became more and more sophisticated and bloody. The days when performances took place were always divided into the morning- and the afternoon shows. While the gladiators fought in the afternoon and these fights took place according to strict ritual and rules, the morning's events were all characterized by a boundless greed for blood and cries of pain. Bloody fights between condemned men and starving beasts, crucifixions, ever new tortures with which prisoners were cruelly tortured to death.
A large part of the audience also switched between the halves of the day. Many came for the gruesome spectacles that so often ended in death.

In order to fill the arena with performances, the Colosseum also absorbed the Endurance Test of the Gladiators. They took place in the morning. It wasn't enough for the organizers of the performances to show the spectators the sweating athletic torsos of the gladiators fighting each other with wooden weapons. The Endurance Test was staged with drama, blood and the experience of death!
It wasn't a matter of life or death for the gladiators competing, but for prisoners whose fate was arbitrarily linked to the outcome of the fight. The young gladiators were thrown into this dramatic spectacle, not only reaching their physical limits, but also going far beyond them by placing the fate of prisoners on their bare shoulders. In order to satisfy the thirst for blood, the gladiators were allowed to compete against each other with the sica and a small shield instead of wooden weapons. The iron weapons were blunt all the way with the exeption of the tip. Actually the tip of the tip. The tips of both sicas had been sharpened so that they could cause minor wounds and cuts.

The gladiators shouldn't be able to kill each other. But they were to engage in a bloody battle that captivated the audience. The whips of the Drivers hit repeatedly so sharp that bloody welts appeared on the fighter's bare skin. Since the fights could last for a long time, the gladiators collected quite a lot of these cuts and welts amidst the roars and cheers of the spectators. If a gladiator struggeled and went to the ground, the Drivers approached.While one fended off the opponent, the other Driver whipped the prone gladiator to force him back to his feet.

After another month, Caius had recovered well from the torture and was training hard again. He had made good progress in his skills and now moved like a fighter. Nimble and supple, he already skillfully wielded Gladius and Sica, which Sextus didn't miss to notice.
Therefore, the day was approaching when Caius was to enter the arena of the Colosseum for the first time. Life as a gladiator had unpredictable twists and turns for the men every day! Sextus sent Magnus to prepare Caius for this first day in the arena of the Colosseum. A day that would demand everything from him: the Endurance Test of the Gladiators in front of a large crowd!

Sextus and Magnus knew that this experience would simply blow the fresh gladiator Caius away. Physically and mentally he would face challenges the likes of which he had never experienced in his life. And Sextus would make money for the first time with Caius. Not much money but at least Caius was going to earn his food for some days. Unlike before, when the Endurance Test was only carried out in the arena of the Ludus in front of the school's gladiators.
So Magnus, who had also passed his Endurance Test in the Colosseum, prepared Caius by telling him what to expect that day. That he would sweat and bleed and scream, but also that he could get the crowd onto his side. They would admire and cheer for him when he fought well.

But Magnus couldn't prepare Caius for everything. Not for the feelings that would arise in him when he stood in front of the crowd. His head covered by his helmet but bare-chested for the first time. When he would show them his muscles in the blazing sunlight knowing that all they wanted to see is his body getting wounded.
Not for the feeling of receiving an iron weapon for the first time able to inflict bloody wounds to his opponent. Knowing that his opponent has the same weapon in his hand.

And not for all the feelings that awaited him when they threw him into the dramatic spectacle they had been devised around the test.

All of this upset Caius. Even more than the torture he faced back then. Everything would be different that day. Except perhaps the pain they would inflict on him. But he would be competing against an opponent. And all this in front of an uncountable number of spectators. Spectators sitting there where he once had sat looking down into the arena. Now he was about to walk into this arena. Walk on that dusty, blood-drenched, sacred ground. From dark vaults into the blazing sunlight. Through a gate which was to be closed after he passed it. No way out! A place where he had always longed to be. Unattainable for a normal man. Now this dream was to become true. With an iron sica in his hand, almost naked, ready to fight against another man.

Then the time came. Caius was woken up early and had to get dressed to go to the Colosseum. He was already putting on his loincloth and fastening his gladiator belt over it. Then his tunic and sandals. He carried the helmet in a leather bag when he set off with Cossus for the Colosseum. The thoughts in his head were going crazy. They went through a remote entrance into the vaults of the huge structure into the area where everything revolved around gladiatorial combat. There were cages for the gladiators, which looked more like predator cages. And to the place where the armory was located. They passed a forge for weapons and armor parts. Shields stood around. Slaves kept everything going while gladiators were absent at this time of day. Torches illuminated the dark, stuffy vaults. Coarse pavement and damp earth covered the ground.

Cossus handed Caius over to a man named Leo. A former gladiator who now organized the games in the Colosseum, still under his gladiator name. “Welcome to your Test of Endurance, gladiator. Caius is your name? Today you will experience everything that makes you being a gladiator! Take off that tunic. I want to have you look like a Gladiator! Today you will only wear a loincloth, belt and helmet. No Manica. You are only allowed to put on the manica's glove. Plus this round shield and the sica, which we will pick up from the forge next.

You will compete against a young German who accordingly calls himself Germanicus. He hates Romans, you should know. He will make you feel it. He will throw everything into the fight to defeat you. You will only meet immediately before entering the arena. Be worthy to set your bare soles on the sacred ground of the Colosseum's arena. Nowhere else so much blood has been shed like here in this arena. Gladiator's blood. Feel the solemnity when you stand before the people and present your bare chest. Ready to receive the wounds the crowd craves for.

And there will be another reason so that you will give everything to win the fight. On the shoulders of each of you I will place a man's destiny. Two young rebels, Jonas and Silas from Judea, have been sentenced to death by crucifixion. One of them can be pardoned to continue his life as a slave on a galley. Not a life worth living but he will escape the hellish torments of crucifixion. The other rebel will die on the cross in the arena right after your fight.

If you fail, Silas will be crucified. Before your eyes. You will hold him while the crucifixion squad drives the nails through his flesh and bones. Both rebels will look down on you from the cross as you fight. Chained to the cross in the position of thieves as we call it. Only when the battle is decided one rebel will be taken down while the other will be nailed to the wood. So get out of it what it’s worth to you.”

They went to the forge.They could smell the smoke from the forge from afar. Hammer blows could be heard.
“You’re about to meet our blacksmith, Marcellus. He is a truly evil sadist. He found his calling in the Colosseum. Nobody can handle embers and iron like him. Never before have our weapons been so sharp. He loves to give you gladiators his sharpened blades into your hands so that you can slaughter yourselves with them.
He is also an ingenious builder of torture devices. When he pursues his buisness as a torture master in the Arena which is also his pleasure, then he tortures like a blacksmith: with embers and iron. When he looks at you closely while we meet, be sure that he is already imaginating that you are in his hands and he has absolute power over you.
He has good connections, so good that he has already got some men he desired later being transferred to be tortured by him.
Ignore his looks and just think about your fight.”

They entered the stuffy forge in a dark vault. The blacksmith had both sicas ready prepared. The sides were particularly dull while he had sharpened the tips as much as possible with these old, discarded weapons.
Marcellus actually looked at Caius. His gaze stayed on Caius upper body. The scars of the scourging on Caius' chest seemed to trigger something inside him. He watched the scars from the branding that Caius had on his chest and upper arm. Their eyes met now and Marcellus gave him a grin. With a facial expression that hinted at his sadism. Marcellus rose from his stool and approached Caius. He took the sica and placed the blade on the branding scar on Caius' chest.
“Today the iron is cold. Enjoy it.” He let the blade glide flat over Caius' chest. The polished cold iron touching the testicles was especially and indescribably exciting. Marcellus didn't miss the fact that Caius was getting hard under the loincloth as the cold blade slid across his skin. “The weapon excites you? Then you feel right for a gladiator. Today will be the only day in your new life as a gladiator where you can enter the arena without having to fear your own death. The people will allow you this feeling only once. Whenever you enter the arena in the future, death will enter the arena with you. And you will fight with your opponent to see whether you will be able leave the arena alive.”
A shiver ran down Caius' spine as he heard Marcellus' words. Caius had gripped with the left hand his right forearm. Marcellus took the sica from Caius chest and placed the sharp tip of the blade on Caius' left forearm. He started pulling the weapon slowly as he continued to look into Caius' eyes.
Caius tried to bear the pain unfazed. Then Marcellus took up the blood with the blade and smeared it over the wound. He held the blood-smeared blade in front of Caius' eyes: “The people will only accept a blade like this.
Give them what they came for and show them you’re a gladiator!”
With these words he handed over the sica to Caius.
Caius felt that this had been a fateful encounter. Anything in his gut told him that he and Marcellus would meet again. His gaze wanted to capture him!

Leo put his arm around Caius' back and pushed him on. “I see, Marcellusis regarding you as worthy of being wounded by his weapons. But I know that lustful look. He likes you, boy. You know what that means. He will certainly watch your fight right away. To see if your stamina is just as strong as your muscles. If you fight hard and endure pain well you can be sure that Marcellus will get hooked. He will do what he can to give you the chance to prove yourself in “The Forge”.”
Caius couldn't understand the meaning of these words because he didn't know which “forge” Leo was talking about. They moved on.

Then Caius was taken into the large vault, where Germanicus was already waiting at the barred, double-winged gate to the arena. Caius could hear the noise of the spectators from outside. A few steps away, the two rebels were chained with their backs to a bar of a cage. They were of Caius' age. Caius scrutinized their bodies, clad only in loincloths. Shaggy hair, tanned skin, both slim and strong. They wore iron chains with heavy shackles on their wrists behind their backs, which allowed them to keep their hands shoulder-width apart.

He stiffened the moment he saw their masculine bodies and tried to imagine what the day had in store for them. Thinking about the torments of crucifixion deeply aroused him. Watching these men going through their hardest hours, even touching them, grabbing and holding their sweaty arms at the crucial moment of crucifixion: these were thoughts that completely consumed his mind. And still he didn't want to be the one whose failure in battle meant such a painful death for the rebel entrusted to his skills in fighting. All of this done only for the people on the ranks. So that they would be entertained with unbearable tension. Hence the added drama in a simple Gladiator Endurance Test!

“You go ahead of the entourage into the middle of the arena. The crosses are already in position. The fight will take place between the crosses. The drivers will follow you, then the condemned rebels and the guards. As I make the announcement to the people, the two rebels get chained to the cross in the position of thieves. That will happen quickly. Then you will fight!”

Caius looked at Germanicus. He scrutinized his body, trying to assess his strength. Germanicus was strong! Blonde, an extremely well-developed upper body. Calves and thighs that impressed Caius. As if having descended from the pedestal of a statue. Would he be able to stand up to him? He had to! And he wanted to find out!

The guards in the Colosseum, who were also responsible for carrying out the punishments, released the chains of the two rebels from the bar. Trumpets sounded. The gate was opened. They marched off. To the middle of the arena! The gladiators' hearts were pounding! An indescribable feeling to be inside the arena. To feel the sand under the feet, which means so much to every gladiator. They stood in the middle and let the audience examine their bodies. They knew that everyone watching had their eyes on them. Examining every muscle of the gladiators. Watching them being unhurt, without any blood. And then hoping for a thrilling bloody fight. Caius proudly showed his scars from the scourging, which still covered his chest and shoulders.

Then Caius glanced at the crosses on either side of them: they weren't normal crosses like the ones that stood along the roadside in the provinces. These were impressive execution machines that could only exist in the Colosseum. There were two wooden platforms, each resting on four massive wooden wheels. They had been drawn into the arena from both sides through the large gates and now stood facing each other at a distance. The crucified men should be able to watch each other. And of course the fateful battle among the glatiators.

The platforms were so large that all the men involved in the crucifixion could get on . They were so high that a lead pendulum weight attached underneath the wooden planks could raise the crosses with little force. Wide wooden stairs were placed in front of the platform.
“Caius, go to Silas, Germanicus to Jonas! Help the guards getting them up!” They had already brought Silas to the platform. While the guards wore sandals, Caius climbed onto the wooden platform barefoot. He noticed that the planks were soaked with blood and all other human liquids set free when a man is fighting for his life. For hours! Countless men had stepped onto these machines with their crosses! The last thing they felt under their feet before they were fixed to the cross!

 

[Xandi55]

Part 3 Continuation I

The guard's centurion ordered Caius to grab Silas's left arm and pull him backwards onto the cross. The cross was slightly elevated from the platform so that the guards could work unter the cross. The space under the cross had to be free so that the arms of the crucified man could be guided with the chain over the patibulum and fastened on the backside of the cross. To do this, the chain was quickly hooked into one of several lugs on the backside of the cross. This meant that the crucified man was connected to the cross in the thief's position. The upper arms, stretched backwards and rested on the patibulum, supporting the body. The pain of this position quickly became unbearable! Arms, shoulders, chest: everything began to hurt from this forced position. A crucifixion in the position of the thieves was usually executed without any bloodshed. But they were in the Colosseum. And that's why these machines still had many painful surprises in store: Several small iron plates studded with sharp iron thorns could be inserted into the cross at certain positions!
The guards had placed two plates on the patibulum. Exactly where the condemned man's upper arms rested and supported the body once the cross was errected. Two plates were also placed on two small sloping boards that were supposed to support the bare feet of the crucified man. So stepping onto those footrests caused even more pain!

As Caius pulled Silas's back onto the trunk of the cross, he discovered even more iron spikes. Actually small triangular blades that had been placed on the dark trunk of the cross just below the position of the shoulders. They would be painful from the moment the body was placed on them. But their task was to cut open the back of the crucified man at the moment when the cross was erected. Then the sweat-soaked body would slide down, being pulled by its own weight. The dark, smooth upper part of the trunk showed Caius that countless men had gone through this procedure when their cross was erected.

The guards had routinely adjusted the footrests and chain so that they were adapted to Silas' body. The feet were tied loosely to the cross with a rope. The crucified man could leave them hanging or step on those thorny footrests.

Silas was chained to the cross incredibly quickly. He could already feel the blades under his back, but they had not yet penetrated his skin. He also felt the tips under his arms and the soles of his feet. He knew that all these cruel devices were added to make him suffer even more as soon as the cross was to be errected. Silas was breathing heavily and was completely tensed. His stomach rose and fell. The chest also expanded to give Silas enough air.
Caius was electrified by the sight of Silas on the cross. His body of flesh and blood. Young and strong, sweating, writhing, testing the strength of the chains and shackles. Placed on a rough wooden trunk that was intended to become amalgamated with the body. To become his destiny. By sucking life out of Silas' body. First by the iron thorns, then later maybe by the large iron nails that were already presented on the platform. He tried to empathize with Silas. What would be his feelings in this very moment before the unbearable pain was about to set in? Knowing that this would only be the beginning of his ordeal under the eyes of bloodthirsty onlookers? He would watch from the cross and follow every move of the fighting gladiators. With every wound and lash Caius would receive, Silas' nailing to the cross came closer.
Caius was absolutely fascinated by the Romans' pleasure in the tortures they inflicted on their enemies. No punishment was too cruel, too painful, too bloody. All the tortures were designed so that the men did not die prematurely. But killing the condemned got inevitable when spectators had to wait too long and got bored. Then cruel tridents or spears were at hand when needed to end the suffering and give way to a new spectacle.

Both rebels were ready to be raised. The centurion on Silas' platform grabbed one of the nails and placed it on Silas' left chest. He began to pull the nail across his chest muscles with some pressure. The tip reached the left nipple. The Centurion paused, turning the nail. Silas groaned. The nail was pulled further down to the breastbone. Then the centurion started again and repeated the procedure on the right side of the chest. A red welt emerged. “Can't wait to use this nail as it is intended! I'm sure, I will do later.” The Centurio grinned at Silas.

The gladiators were sent off the platforms. Fanfares sounded and prompted the last spectators to turn their eyes to the crucifixion again. With a jerk, the guards quickly erected the crosses as ordered. The rebels' bodies now slid with full weight into the iron thorns as the blades sliced the skin of their backs. It was only a short distance before the arms took the weigth and stopped the movement. But it was enough to cause unbearable pain to those crucified. Silas had placed his feet on the spiked platform, which was also too small. The thorns had penetrated mercilessly into the muscles of his upper arms and the soles of his feet. The pain was unbearable. And it was to stay for hours! And he felt his warm blood running down the trunk of the cross. The blades had done their task and made Silas' back bleed.

Two loud screams of pain pernetrated the arena. The spectators had been waiting for this moment. A first highlight of the day! For a short time the crucified men were occupied with themselves. With the painful position on the cross into which they had been forced, but above all with the cruel pain of the iron spikes in their flesh. Both groaned in pain as Caius and Germanicus prepared for their fight.

Caius was called by three teenagers who were standing at the balustrade and directly looked down on him. Two of them held wooden sicas stretching one arm in the air. Everyone stood bare-chested, posing to draw attention. They wanted to cheer at the “Roman”, as they called Caius!
Caius turned toward them, raised his arms and tensed his muscles to show that he liked their way to support him. They cheered. Who could better understand than Caius how they felt. They were apparently practicing as gladiators when they met and confidently showed off their athletic bodies in the stands. Caius remembered when he had stood in their place above the gladiators to watch and be close to them. Looking at their broad muscular chests and shoulders, admiring their strong arms! Being close to them but unable to take their place down in the dust.
Those three guys also knew that Caius would now have to fight to the point of exhaustion and beyond and thereby suffer bloody wounds from Germanicus' sica and countless hard lashes. It was a ritual of masculinity that Caius had to go through now. That also excited the boys when they thought about it. They would now witness this test in which the two gladiators had to prove their stamina and their manhood.
The gladiators put on their helmets, grabbed their shields and weapons. Now they were facing each other in gear. The drivers had meanwhile taken off their tunics and
were now also standing ready with their upper bodies naked, ready to swing the long whips in the direction of the fighters.

The drivers who always enjoyed these endurance tests and took part again and again, knew how to use their long whips skillfully. Most of time the fighters offered their shoulders. But the drivers also regarded it as their task to present the audience with “beautiful wounds”, as it was commonly called in the Colosseum. Bleeding shoulders and upper arms, dark welts on the gladiators' chests were the wounds that spectators wanted to see because they were considered particularly worthy for a man to endure. These wounds and scars excited the crowd more than anything else. They distinguished the man from the boy.

The gladiators would also receive several hits on the body by the weapon of the opponent. But the drivers did their part and whipped again and again agonizing the young gladiators. Whenever the Drivers noticed a gladiator lifting an arm they tried to curl the long whip in a way that the end wrapped around the ribs and then hit the chest or stomach with force. Getting a nipple hit this way was considered to be a special proof of their skills.
The gladiators looked at each other again through their barred helmets. Then the centurion called:

“Pugnate!”

The gladiators stepped carefully, threatening with their blades. Then Caius attacked for the first time. It had never been so risky to attack because he immediately felt how vulnerable his ribcage was in this moment. But Germanicus' counterattack bounced off the shield. Then they really went at each other. The sica's blades struck against the shields. Both still managed to fend off the attacks. While the Drivers initially let the gladiators get into the fight, they now began to hit the gladiators with the first lashes of the long whips. The cracking of the whips on the bare skin was a pleasure for the ears of the spectators! For the gladiators, the blows meant that the flow of their movements was cut off leaving them temporarily paralyzed by the very painful lashes. This giving the opponent a momentary advantage.
As Germanicus made an attack on Caius' right side, the Driver delivered a blow to both shoulders that made Caius flinch. He felt the sica only lightly graze the shield knowing that this meant nothing good. A moment later he felt the stabbing pain from the sica in his costal arch. The tip was briefly stuck in the wound before Germanicus withdrew the sica. Caius felt the intense pain, but was so agitated by the fight that he immediately went on. He attacked with a jump. Arm and sica got over Germanicus' shield and the tip of the sica left a long cut in Germanicus' left shoulder. There was a murmur by the spectators when they saw the hit and heard Germanicus groan. Blood was pooring from both wounds mixing up with dust and sweat.

Then the whips hit the gladiators' backs once again. Both now felt increasing pain and became aware that the injuries weakened their bodies. While the whip once again struck Caius's back, Germanicus managed to push his tip into Caius's thigh. Both
Gladiators were now panting under their helmets and sweating heavily.
Streams of sweat ran over their bodies. Germanicus now hit Caius with the edge of the shield on the chest sending him down to the dusty ground. Before Germanicus could follow Caius' move, one lash wrapped around his chest and gave him a hellish burning sensation and a deep red welt. He froze for a moment in agony. Caius rolled over and stood up. Blood and sweat covered his whole torso now. Sticking together with the holy dust of the arena: a sight that completely drove the spectators crazy!
He reached for his shield and regained his cover in time when Germanicus was also able to continue the fight. The weapons hit the shields again and again. Once more Caius heard that the weapon only slightly slid over the shield. For a moment Caius waited for new pain to set in. Then it came! The tip of Germanicus' sica cut into Caius' right side of the chest. The slight cut ran from the nipple towards the shoulder and immediately started bleeding profusely!
Immediately afterwards, his lower back was hit hard by a whip. And another lash, hitting a little higher than the previous one. Caius screamed in pain and arched backwards. The shield lowered on his long arm and completely exposed the chest. But Germanicus could not take advantage of this, getting hit by a driver, whose long whip was wrapping around the right ribcage and actually smashed her tip right onto his left nipple.
The pain of this blow was hardly inferior to a hit with the blade! After a moment of paralysis that overcame him, he got aware that both gladiators were kneeing on the ground now. Both gladiators now felt their injuries.They tried to gain back some strength to get up again. Shield and weapons had become too heavy now and movements were slow. The drivers were hesitating to use the short whips. Both stood up with sica and shield in hand. In a fight of life or death there would now be a high probability that the gladiators would make fatal mistakes being to weak to defend properly.
The spectators had been waiting for this phase of the fight. It was the moment where it became obvious who was the stronger fighter and who had the indomitable will to survive.
Germanicus once more knocked Caius over with his shield. He also rolled, loosing control of his movements. Both rolled in the dust with their bleeding wounds. They were both now part of the cult among the gladiators who had shed their blood on the sacred ground of the arena. The cult that was distinguishing the gladiator from the spectator and all other men of Rome.
Driver approached them and started lashing them with the short whip. They panted and moaned. Then they got up.

“Pugnate!”

They got in position, barely able to hold the shields up. They approached.
Germanicus delivered a hit to Caius left shoulder. But almost at the same time
Caius also managed to thrust his blade between Germanicus's ribs. Again hey had inflicted bleeding wounds on each other. The spectators were beside themselves and cheered louder and louder. Both of them were now swaying more than moving like a fighter.
The drivers still managed to deliver a few well-placed blows on the shoulders of both gladiators. Both were completely exhausted when Germanicus sent Caius to the ground again with the edge of his shield.
Caius lost shield and sica. Germanicus dropped his, too and then threw himself
on Caius, so that the helmets clattered together. Germanicus punched his fist into Caius' rib wound, causing him to scream loudly.
At that moment the battle was decided. Germanicus stood up and triumphed in front of the ranks! The Drivers had also seen enough good fighting and explained The Endurance Test being over. Almost everyone in the crowd stood up and roared and clapped.

Caius had lost. Not that he didn't pass his Endurance Test. He also fought bravely and persistently for this. In a real fight he would have had to surrender and would probably have survived. But Silas would die on the cross now while Germanicus sent his rebel to the oars!
While the gladiators took off their helmets and gasped for air, the crosses were put down again. The guards released the chains from the trunks and grabbed both rebels' bodies by the armpits. It happened almost simultaneously. The blades cut into their backs once more. At the same time, the thorns on the patibulum gave their upper arms free. The upper body was raised up and the legs were put down next to the cross. “Into the arena,” the centurion ordered the rebels. Both were barely able to walk. The injured soles of the feet hurt too much, while the bodies were bent from the forced position and from pain of the wounds.

The centurion ordered that gladiators and rebels stood facing each other. Both rebels and gladiators were exhausted and breathing heavily. Sweat ran from the torsos of both the gladiators and those having been taken off the crosses. Caius slowly came down from his tension level and began to feel his wounds more and more.
"Germanicus, take Jonas out of the arena!" While Germanicus placed Jonas' blood-stained left arm over his shoulder to relieve him while walking, Silas approached Caius. While Caius was unable to move at that moment, Silas hugged Caius tightly. Both now pressed their almost feverishly hot bodies together, chest to chest, felt and smelled their fresh sweat, put their wet hair together. “They are playing with us. I know you gave everything to save me from the cross. I watched you fighting and you fought well. Don't think about my fate. I'm ready.”

Caius was relieved by Silas' words. They both enjoyed the moment until rough hands tore them apart. For a moment they had been able to enjoy a fateful affection that changed everything!

 

[Xandi55]

Part 3 Continuation II

The guards grabbed Silas and were about to drag him to his cross when Caius said: "Take him to the other cross." The centurion looked at Caius. “Chain me to his cross!” The centurion, who didn't need to accept anything being told to him by Caius, understood immediately. He signaled to the guards. He couldn't let himself or the crowd miss what was about to happen now!

Caius, who had already been injured and was bleeding from many wounds, had voluntarily asked him to have him chained to a cross! Obviously that cross with blood and sweat on it of the man he could not save from being nailed! Has something like this ever happened before?
His wish should be fulfilled. The Centurion didn't need to think about the Lanista.
Here, in this arena, he was in charge.
While Silas was being pulled onto the platform by two guards, Caius heard
a third man getting the chains and shackles for him. The chain links hitting each other, rattling loudly.
He came down from the platform with the shackles and went straight to Caius's back.
He dropped the chains and immediately began to put Caius' right wrist into one shackle. He already reached for the next shackle and fixed Caius' left wrist.
The iron that Caius now felt on his skin was cold and heavy. A shiver ran over his back! This chain would hold him relentlessly. They were already grabbing his upper arms, leading him to the cross. He climbed the stairs. He watched the cross with awe for a moment which was still laying down on the platform. The dark parts of the wood, where blood and sweat had turned the wood much darker than normal. Then they turned his back towards the cross.

Caius was ready to be chained to the cross by the guards. They didn't hesitate.
He felt the trunk between his legs and lost his balance when they pulled the chain backwards. He fell backwards onto the trunk and was now in the position to get pulled up. He could already feel the blades pressing against his skin. Ready to cut into his back on the right and left side of his spine. And he felt the clotted blood of Silas that was still sticking to the trunk. The guards adjusted the foot rests and tied his feet loosely to the trunk. He had been prepared for crucifixion! Now it was inevitable! In the very moment when they raised the cross, he would slip down into the sharp iron thorns. Only moments separated him from the pain of crucifixion now! But the guards waited.
Instead, the second team had Silas tied up and began driving the first nail into Silas' right wrist. Deafening screams of pain followed the hard blows of the mallet. Nail by nail was hammered into the living flesh of the man. The feet were nailed to the side of the trunk. Now Silas was also ready to be raised up.

It had become quiet in the ranks. The spectators were waiting for the last blows of the mallet. And they also noticed that Caius volunteered to have him crucified. That he had asked the Centurio to have him chained to the second cross. That took their breath away.

The Colosseum had never been quieter!
Silas's screams of pain aroused Caius to the max! He looked over his chest which was smeared with blood, dust and sweat. He looked over to Silas, whose cross at that moment was pulled up. A deafening scream! Caius looked into a face distorted by pain. Silas closed his eyes. The full weight of his body was now hanging on the four nails that had been driven through his flesh and bones.
It was hellish pain that Silas suffered. And that pain would last for hours without interruption and would slowly overwhelm him!

Caius felt some shaking beneath him. The cross rose. A moment later his body slid down the trunk until his arms rested on the patibulum holding the weight of his body. Amid the onset of pain in his upper arms caused by the thorns, he instinctively braced his bare soles on the small footrests studded with thorns. And he felt these thorns penetrating the skin of the soles of his feet. Simultaniously also the small blades on the trunk penetrated the skin of his back cutting on until his body got into the final hanging position!
AAAAaaaaarghhh! The cross got him! He was chained by strong iron chains to the cross depending on the guards and the crowd now. He would die if they wouldn't take him down at some point.
Who would decide on that? The crowd? The Centurion? Would Cossus intervene? How long would he keep up on the cross while he was already weakened from the fight? Caius looked at Silas. He knew that he was suffering beyond imagination. He was unable to control his own pain, which was becoming more and more unbearable. He was unable to imagine what Silas went through. Both men squirmed, moaned, cramped. Sweating in the blazing light of the midday sun.

After the exhaustive fight of the Endurance Test and the weakening wounds caused by the sica and the whips, it didn't take long until Caius felt his strength leaving him.
More and more his consciousness was overwhelmed by the pain. He breathed
heavily and struggled to remain conscious as shouts came from the crowd echoing through the arena: “Take him down, he’s had enough!” “Yes, get him off the cross, he deserves to live!"

As the shouts get louder and louder, Caius uses his last strength. The centurion is sending his guards to Caius' cross. “Take him down and get him out of the arena.”
Meanwhile, Silas had lost consciousness. His head had sunk down on his chest and he just moaned quietly. Caius would have to leave him behind, he could do nothing for him. But he had gone as far as he could to stay and support Silas' suffering on the cross. He felt the guards entering the platform and already his cross was turned backwards onto the platform. They loosened his chains and dragged him a little up before they placed his feet next to the cross onto the planks.His upper body was raised. He was completely exhausted. His arms and chest hurt like hell after they were freed from the constraints. He could also hardly get on his wounded feet. The guards therefore each put one blood-smeared arm over their shoulders and dragged him out of the arena. Caius looked at Silas again before he left to the cheers of the spectators. Once in the vaults they put him on a massive wooden table in a dark room and gave him some water.

At this moment Caius had no eye or thought for the large wooden device he was sitting on. He didn't realize he was on the most important part of a room-filling torture apparatus that he couldn't interpret in the darkness. It was the “forge”, Leo had been talking about. It was Marcellus' work. He had delivered his masterpiece with it. Both in terms of the craftsmanship and in the cruel way in which torture was being executed.
The apparatus, which incorporated several wooden and iron devices, was to be set up in the arena. Spectators on the ranks and the condemned man alike shuddered when everything was prepared and ready. Watching all this it became clear to them that the only thing that was missing in the sophisticated arrangement was the man who had been condemned to suffer in the forge. When he was dragged into the forge, it usually became very quiet in the arena.

The man destined for this torture, stripped except for a loincloth, was to be chained to a massive rig that was made of wood, similar to a massive table.
Marcellus forged all these bindings in iron. There should be no doubt that they would be adequate to restist all the forces the tortured man could develop to wriggle free. Once the guards had closed those shackles, he was lost and at the mercy of Marcellus, who began his often fatal work dressed up as the god Vulcanus

“The Forge of Vulcanus” had become a well known event in the arena and for this the stands were usually fuller than at normal during the morning programme.
When Marcellus became Vulcanus to work in his forge torturing a man cruelly or torment him to death, this was for the onlookers much more exciting than a crucifixion. The smoking fire baskets and braziers, the glowing embers of the charcoals. In each basket lay carefully prepared irons and pokers that Marcellus had forged to fit certain parts of the human body and he laid them on in a tried out and proven sequence. It was the aim for Marcellus to keep him conscious for as long as possible and not to let him die before time was due. The rising smoke of the burnt flesh rose up into the ranks. While the spectators could usually just watch and listen to the men's cries of pain, the smell of the smoke of this torture becomes a particularly haunting, almost up-close experience for everybody.

Vulcanus' forge was also particularly popular with the emperor and had already been chosen many times to serve as special punishment for enemies of the state to demonstrate how cruelly Rome will break any restistance.
Then it got lit late in the evening. In the darkness the ember-filled baskets were particularly impressive! The forge was also equipped with numerous torches then which made it seem like a place from the underworld. Vulcanus became a demon in this hellish setting.
Caius knew nothing of this. He did notice a strong smell of burned flesh and that his hands were touching charred wood. But he was still completely under the impressions that the Gladiator Test and the crucifixion had left on him.
Cossus approached his apparently crazy gladiator. "You are the first man in this Colosseum to voluntarily allow himself to be crucified. I would have to punish you. But how can I? You have already imposed the punishment on yourself!” We let Sextus decide and patch you up again first.
Cossus had two slaves carry Caius on a cart to the ludus, where he was immediately taken to the doctor, who cleaned and bandaged his injuries