Dez
Assistant executioner
Hi all. I'm back after a bit of a break due to family bereavement.
Anyway, this is an ongoing story, perhaps in three parts, I started writing before my break from here. I'm currently working on part two and feel part one is ready to share.
I won't say too much about it except that I've not worried too much about the backstory as I'm not really bothered about it. The sentence of the accused explains it a little.
Before anyone notifies me about the possible missing " ' " from the title, just call it artistic license. Also, in regards to historical accuracy: it's fiction.
I hope it goes down well, and as always, please be kind.
Here we go.....
The crowds already cheering and jeering as she walked into the sunlight towards the propinquity of entertainment.
Accompanied by four guards, Octavia advanced on the centre of the arena. From the opposite entrance of the amphitheatre, she spied a slight figure emerge surrounded by a similar escort.
As both companies converged at the epicentre of punishment, Octavia realized with horror that the chained girl standing before her was her younger sister, Livia.
Their eyes met. Octavia, gesturing with a subtle shake of her head, mouthed the words, “I’m so sorry”.
Livia glanced around to view the structures of torture, returning to her sisters loving, sorrowful countenance with a physiognomy of disquietude and sheer terror.
Both girls wore threadbare tunics, filthy, torn and damp from the fresh perspiration brought forth from the oppressive, incalescent day.
Aside from their tunics, the chains responsible for the abrasions about their wrists and ankles were all that graced each girls body.
Octavia was released from her bonds and led to a thick wooden post buried solidly into the dry dirt, measuring eighteen inches in diameter and standing approximately three and a half feet tall. Two iron manacles were bolted to the flat vertex of the post by short lengths of heavy chain.
About three feet from the post, and several feet apart, two thick wooden stakes jutted from the ground, each securing further chains and manacles.
Two of the guards seized Octavia by the arms, thrusting her forward she slammed into the short post and her wrists were locked into the metal restraints.
Her legs were kicked apart and both ankles quickly became fettered to the stakes.
And so Octavia, leaning forward with her arms straight, palms flat atop the post, legs slightly spread, waited for her sentence to be read.
The officer in charge of the event stepped forward, and with a booming voice addressed the concourse.
“The criminal…..conspirator against the Roman Empire, the accused known as Octavia Sergius has been brought before us to receive the penalty for her crimes.”
The crowd listened with feverish anticipation as he continued.
“She is sentenced to be scourged until it is decided she is in a suitable state to be executed.”
The sanguinary coterie that lined the arena roared their approval!
Octavia stared at the dusty ground in front of her scourging post. Her heart pounding; mouth dry. Her breaths shuddered with solicitous apprehension.
Two Lictors approached the restrained girl. They carried the implements of torture with them.
They stood beside Octavia and waited for the command that everyone in the amphitheatre longed for.
A nod indicated the order for her to be stripped. One of the Lictors stepped forward, obtained the neck of her tunic and tore it over her shoulders. The Lictor renewed his grip on the ragged material and ripped it to reveal the young woman’s tanned back and buttocks..
More cheering.
The short sleeves which covered the tops of Octavia’s shoulders fell lose around her wrists after the brute had completed his task of shredding the garment from her body.
She stood naked.
Both Lictors now loomed over her; studying her with ardent eyes.
Her body adorned with lean muscularity. Her pubic region shaved clean and smooth.
“There is an additional sentence!” The Commander shouted above the din of the crowd.
“ The sister of the condemned prisoner is also implicated in this traitorous crime. She is guilty of failing to notify the authorities of her sisters actions of harbouring known enemies of Rome. Therefore, Livia Sergius, sister of Octavia is sentenced to be whipped at the post on her bared back.”
The audience stands in joyous rapture.
“This girl will receive five lashes of the bull whip for each time her sister falls at the scourge.”
With that the teenager was dragged to the tall whipping post located fifteen feet in front of the scourging post. Her arms were raised high above her head; wrists shackled to chains which hung from each side of the sturdy wooden pillar.
Directly in front of her, Octavia witnessed her sister being strung up by her wrists. And as the back of the girl’s tunic was ripped open, Octavia shifted her gaze through the thick shimmering heat haze to the peaks of the Monte Velino.
Octavia’s attention was drawn to a Lictor approaching Livia.
She watched the nefarious bastard shake out the coils of a long bull whip.
It was time….
Anyway, this is an ongoing story, perhaps in three parts, I started writing before my break from here. I'm currently working on part two and feel part one is ready to share.
I won't say too much about it except that I've not worried too much about the backstory as I'm not really bothered about it. The sentence of the accused explains it a little.
Before anyone notifies me about the possible missing " ' " from the title, just call it artistic license. Also, in regards to historical accuracy: it's fiction.
I hope it goes down well, and as always, please be kind.
Here we go.....
A TRAITORS ANGUISH
From the shadows of the holding cell she padded barefoot into the blazing heat of the sun scorched amphitheatre.The crowds already cheering and jeering as she walked into the sunlight towards the propinquity of entertainment.
Accompanied by four guards, Octavia advanced on the centre of the arena. From the opposite entrance of the amphitheatre, she spied a slight figure emerge surrounded by a similar escort.
As both companies converged at the epicentre of punishment, Octavia realized with horror that the chained girl standing before her was her younger sister, Livia.
Their eyes met. Octavia, gesturing with a subtle shake of her head, mouthed the words, “I’m so sorry”.
Livia glanced around to view the structures of torture, returning to her sisters loving, sorrowful countenance with a physiognomy of disquietude and sheer terror.
Both girls wore threadbare tunics, filthy, torn and damp from the fresh perspiration brought forth from the oppressive, incalescent day.
Aside from their tunics, the chains responsible for the abrasions about their wrists and ankles were all that graced each girls body.
Octavia was released from her bonds and led to a thick wooden post buried solidly into the dry dirt, measuring eighteen inches in diameter and standing approximately three and a half feet tall. Two iron manacles were bolted to the flat vertex of the post by short lengths of heavy chain.
About three feet from the post, and several feet apart, two thick wooden stakes jutted from the ground, each securing further chains and manacles.
Two of the guards seized Octavia by the arms, thrusting her forward she slammed into the short post and her wrists were locked into the metal restraints.
Her legs were kicked apart and both ankles quickly became fettered to the stakes.
And so Octavia, leaning forward with her arms straight, palms flat atop the post, legs slightly spread, waited for her sentence to be read.
The officer in charge of the event stepped forward, and with a booming voice addressed the concourse.
“The criminal…..conspirator against the Roman Empire, the accused known as Octavia Sergius has been brought before us to receive the penalty for her crimes.”
The crowd listened with feverish anticipation as he continued.
“She is sentenced to be scourged until it is decided she is in a suitable state to be executed.”
The sanguinary coterie that lined the arena roared their approval!
Octavia stared at the dusty ground in front of her scourging post. Her heart pounding; mouth dry. Her breaths shuddered with solicitous apprehension.
Two Lictors approached the restrained girl. They carried the implements of torture with them.
They stood beside Octavia and waited for the command that everyone in the amphitheatre longed for.
A nod indicated the order for her to be stripped. One of the Lictors stepped forward, obtained the neck of her tunic and tore it over her shoulders. The Lictor renewed his grip on the ragged material and ripped it to reveal the young woman’s tanned back and buttocks..
More cheering.
The short sleeves which covered the tops of Octavia’s shoulders fell lose around her wrists after the brute had completed his task of shredding the garment from her body.
She stood naked.
Both Lictors now loomed over her; studying her with ardent eyes.
Her body adorned with lean muscularity. Her pubic region shaved clean and smooth.
“There is an additional sentence!” The Commander shouted above the din of the crowd.
“ The sister of the condemned prisoner is also implicated in this traitorous crime. She is guilty of failing to notify the authorities of her sisters actions of harbouring known enemies of Rome. Therefore, Livia Sergius, sister of Octavia is sentenced to be whipped at the post on her bared back.”
The audience stands in joyous rapture.
“This girl will receive five lashes of the bull whip for each time her sister falls at the scourge.”
With that the teenager was dragged to the tall whipping post located fifteen feet in front of the scourging post. Her arms were raised high above her head; wrists shackled to chains which hung from each side of the sturdy wooden pillar.
Directly in front of her, Octavia witnessed her sister being strung up by her wrists. And as the back of the girl’s tunic was ripped open, Octavia shifted her gaze through the thick shimmering heat haze to the peaks of the Monte Velino.
Octavia’s attention was drawn to a Lictor approaching Livia.
She watched the nefarious bastard shake out the coils of a long bull whip.
It was time….