I'm afraid the Cardinal may be taking a more gnostic approach to Simon of Cyrene, in my circumstance.
Switching to first person for the rest of my paragraphs.
Almost as soon as the doors had shut behind us, Barbaria fell into unconsciousness again. Her wrists left her bound to the cross, and I had to carry both her cross and her dead weight dragging across the ground. I was making my way to the middle of cloistered square, where Eulalia and Messaline had already laid down their crosses. As I got closer to the center they both began to dutifully remove their own loincloths, exposing their sex. I wasn't expecting the lack of loincloths, it struck me as wholly immodest, and it was totally unlike all the icons I had seen. But the thought of the women, totally naked on the cross... I understood why the Cardinal would order it. Soon, Barbaria would be pinned to the cross I carried naked, as well. And I'd be able to see it!
As I continued carrying the cross, I saw the Cardinal make a brief hand gesture to the man behind me. At once, he was whipping me! I let out a broken scream. The rapid strokes of the single tail lit my back up, and tore at my remaining underclothing. I had taken Barbaria's place, it seemed! The thought horrified me, being tortured to death on a rough wooden cross, but it excited me even more. However, it was sad that Barbaria hadn't made it, and I would not see the nails driven into her. The whip continued until I had reached the center of the cloister, then the Cardinal gave the signal to stop. I placed Barbaria's cross down between Eulalia's and Messaline's crosses, respectively. Before I could untie Barbaria and take her place. I was dragged into a dark corner of the cloister by two monks.
Well, it took me a moment to realize they were monks. They were wearing the uniforms of a Roman infantryman, although their meek frames could hardly even fill the bulky armor. They violently and unceremoniously stripped me of my remaining garments, then tied my wrists together and strung them up to a П-Shaped whipping post. As I looked back, I could see Eulalia and Messaline laying down on their crosses, and being tied in preparation for the nails. Thessala dropped her cross to the right of Messaline, exhausted from her march, and fell onto it's wooden surface soon after, embracing the brief rest on the wood. Barbaria was being moved onto her cross, still unconscious. Before I could gaze anymore, a blindfold was wrapped over my eyes.
"Lust is sinful, you know." one of the monks whispered to me as he tied the blindfold, "We only want to nail up innocent, blameless woman, not disobedient, horny, deceitful, nuns."
"So, you won't crucify me?" I asked, more bemused than relieved.
"We can't let a nun like you see what you've seen in this room and live," the other monk said. "We'll give you the honor of a crucifixion, but only because the Cardinal insisted on the extra... entertainment value. But you'll have to pay penance for your actions beforehand."
I felt a sharp, tearing pain descend down on my forehead and scalp, twisting into my curly hair, and letting hot blood drip down onto my face. I now had a crown of my own, and would join the novices and their crux at the eleventh hour. With nothing to look at, I focused on the pain, the digging of the pointed rose thorns, the dripping of blood from the tip of my nose. It was a whole new experience, and I was totally lucid for an agony so severe, I had never experienced it before. And I new that this was only the beginning.
My meditation on my suffering was broken by a dull thud, followed by a scampering of people. The Cardinal issued brief orders about detainment or something like that. Apparently I wasn't the only uninvited guest.
His attention on me was not broken for long, as he ordered my execution in lavish detail, so that everyone could hear it. There would now be five crucifixions. As soon as he had finished his proclamation, the whip lashed out. They were seemingly random in their targets but rapid in their strokes. I couldn't tell where the next lash would hit. Each one was a surprise, a new sliver of my skin on fire. I screamed and wailed, rocking back and forth on my wrists as the strokes continued to fall. Soon, my thighs, lower back, and ass were bloodied by one, while another lashed my upper back and breast. But my torture was just beginning... I felt the sting of a scourge on my back and let out a tremendous screech that quickly turned into inhoherent begs and sobbing. Above my own pain, I could hear the distinctive toc-toc-toc of a hammers hitting nail heads. The novices began their chorus of cries to join mine. It was beautiful, but so cruel. I couldn't see their faces, but I knew that they were twisted in pain as the nails penetrated them and fixed them permanently to the wood.
I was next.
....Thanks to Arcimboldo for his cooperation ...
this is not a bad thing, I think .... maybe ... who knows?
