My heart is bursting!
That sweet Scarlet has sacrificed herself for me!
She does not deserve to suffer like this for unworthy me.
Now I must watch as the Roman scourges her.
Every scream cuts through my own agony, this is my fault!
Goddess save us, sweet goddess have mercy!
A small commotion erupts in the crowd and people begin to step away which creates a path for a group of 12 women all dressed in identical ceremonial tunics and leafy green laurel wreaths on their heads to walk through effortlessly. Their garb identifies them as priestesses of the temple of Diana. They make their way straight to the very front where the guards and crucified are, looking calm but determined. The guards immediately take notice of this and look at each other with some bewilderment. The same bastard guard who had previously whipped me steps forward to investigate. One woman who looks a little older than the other women among her also steps forward; she gives off a sense of seniority with her presence. They begin speaking to each other in hushed voices. I focus in on them trying to ignore all the pain I’m feeling and try to determine as best I can what they’re saying based on their body movement and from what I can hear over the crowd. They talk for what felt like forever, occasionally gesturing at me and raising their voices over one an other. After a lot more bad noise between them, the high priestess pulls a medium sized satchel from the sash that was tied around her waist and forcefully shoves it one handed into the armored chest of the bastard guard. He stumbles backwards one step from her force, instantly reaching up and grasping the leather satchel. His eyes don’t break from the high priestess’s scorned face and he stares back with anger building up inside him. His first instinct is to slap her across the face, but he knows it would not look good at all striking a high priestess in front of such a massive crowd of civilians, especially one as predominant as her. He unties the satchel and empties out several coins into his other hand.
“Fine then!” He barks at her. “This will do! An awful waste of coin if you ask me for this little wretch, but the hell do I care. Go on then, your holiness. You and your followers of Diana have your final goodbyes to your damned comrade. Doesn’t matter if she’s one of you, she’s a traitor and she dies the same with the rest of these traitorous whores here.”
The bastard guard turns and leaves with his damn money to go torment the rest of the crucified rebels. All the priestesses watch him leave, their eyes like spears aiming at his back. Soon as he’s out of sight their expressions immediately change to sorrowful looks as they turn towards me. They all come closer gathering around me at my cross. Seeing all their faces again brings me some solace and comfort. I greet my sisters with a dried sounding voice along with a weary smile. One of the priestesses on my left removes a leather wineskin attached to a long strap from her side and brings it to my mouth. I eagerly grasp and bite down on the small opening of the wineskin, a wave of red wine washes over my tongue and fills my mouth. I savor the wine for a few moments before letting it all down my throat and take a long deep breath.
“Thank you, my sister. Thank you all for being here in my last moments in this world, seeing all your faces one last time before my descent does my soul some good.” The high priestess looks deep within my eyes and asks the question I can already see coming through her gaze before she even says it.
“Oh my dear sister….. why? Why have you done this to yourself?” I stare back in silence for a minute without so much as blinking and manage to say the first thing that comes to mind.
“… You know why, you’ve heard the news. I’ve conspired with the rebels against the Empire in order to..” She stops me in midsentence.
“No! It’s a lie. All lies and gossip from the Roman masses. I know you my sister. We all know you and have so for years. You may not have always agreed with the politics of Rome but you are no rebel or betrayer to the Empire. You are a devoted priestess and servant to our goddess. Now please, my sister tell me for the love of Diana why you have confessed to these heinous crimes? Why would you allow yourself to be condemned to this horrific fate?”
I absorb her words and process her questions. There’s no point trying to lie to her. I tilt my head and look directly at Thessela and all of my sisters follow my gaze, and observe poor Thessela suffering on her cross. The high priestess turns back with a puzzled look on her face.
“That slave girl? I still don’t understand your reason, sister. What does she have to do with this?”
“I know her.” I reply. “I’ve known her as a child; she’s also a sister of mine. Only the Fates have set us on different paths in life, but I still love her and seeing her accused of a crime she also didn’t commit was devastating to me. I cried and prayed to Diana for help and guidance…. and she the goddess herself appeared to me just as I see you now.”
All the priestess’s eyes widen and they look at each other with amazement at my words and back at me. The high priestess urges me to continue with my story. I ask for another drink from them, the same priestess gives me another taste of sweet wine. My thirst quenched and I muster up the strength to continue. But the familiar pain from the nails in my wrists strain against the weight of my body once more as I hang by my arms. It’s becoming too much to bare, I give in and pull myself up. The joints in my knees crack as they straighten out and thrust me upward. Relief is given to my arms but now the stabbing sensation from the nails in my heels flare up causing me to let out an agonizing screech. My sisters wince at the sight of this and my painful scream doesn’t make it any easier to witness. Some close their eyes and murmur prayers to them selves, while the rest stare wide eyed with tears welling up in their eyes.
