Debborah pulled herself up and looked over at Basillius, who was likewise standing. She gazed at him with almost lifeless eyes. Then, she smiled. It was not the radiant smile he had loved to see. It was a sad, ironic smile. Then, her head went down and she slid back down the stipes.
The day wore on. The sun beat down as another summer day grew hotter and muggier. The slaves and plebeians trudging along the road sweated beneath their burdens. The wealthy in their litters fanned themselves. The sun showed no mercy. Basilius kept his head down. It had become too exhausting to raise his head, even when he pulled himself up the stipes to relieve the pressure on his chest. But, he looked up when he perceived something incredibly large passing in front of him.
It was the largest animal he had ever seen. The top of it’s arched back was above his head. Baskets and bundles were hanging along it’s broad, tawny side. Basilius looked to his left and saw more such incredible beasts. Each was being lead by brown skinned men in long robes and head scarfs. They rocked from side to side as they walked in a strange rhythm on long, spindly legs. Their heads – absurdly small for such a massive body – swayed at the end of long serpentine necks. Basilius realized what these strange creatures must be. They were camels. He had seen pictures and read about them. But, the descriptions didn’t do justice to the mass, the strangeness, and the ugliness of these beasts. One after another they passed. They made guttural noises and a yellow foam dripped from their mouths. The line of camels came to a sudden halt and shouting could be heard up ahead. Something or someone must have caused an obstruction in flow of traffic; a common occurrence on the Via Nomentana.
The animal in front of Basilius lowered its head so that is was even with his own. Basilius had been trained by his mentor to find the beauty in all of nature. But, he was at a loss to see any in these humpbacked creatures. Then, it looked at him with an eye as large as a baby’s fist and blinked. Basilius was amazed to see the longest, thickest, blackest lashes he had ever seen on a man, woman or beast.
The line of camels began moving again and soon were gone from his view. Basilius marveled at how God could have created such an absurd animal and then given it such lovely lashes. Truly, His world was wonderful and mysterious.
The shadows of the crosses on the south side of the road were stretching toward the west when Basilius heard noises to his left. A slave had propped a ladder against Stephanos’ cross. He climbed up with a pair of tongs and began pulling the nail from the old Jew’s left hand, while another slave began pulling the nail from his right foot. A third slave, the one who had accompanied the aedile earlier and seemed to be supervising the other two, stood in the road in front of a handcart. He still carried his tablet, as if it where a badge of office, like a general carrying his baton.
There were four naked bodies staked in the cart. Basilius could not see the faces of the two on the bottom. One, lying face down, was likely a woman, to judge by the size of her feet and the curvature of the one buttock he could see. The other was face up and was clearly a man, as an uncircumcised penis was visible. Basilius could see the faces of the other two, lying on top. One of them was Ananias of Sidon. The other was Jairus, Berenice's father.
Often, the bodies of the condemned would be left to rot on their crosses as a warning to other and a display of the might of Rome and it’s laws. But, here, on both sides of a major thoroughfare, the stench of dozens of rotting corpses and the vermin they would attract, would be too offensive and create a public nuisance. So the bodies were going to be removed and disposed of some place else.
Basilius looked over at Berenice. She was hanging low and her head was down, her long hair covering her face. She was still alive, though. She moved from side to side and was making sounds that might have been attempts at words. Basilius wondered if her mid had snapped, as often happened to those on the cross. If so, then perhaps it was a blessing.
The slave on the ladder pulled the last nail from Stephanos’ left hand and, his feet already free, his body fell in heap at the base of the stipes. After placing the nails in a sack hung from the side of the cart – nails cost money and could not be wasted – the two slaves took up Stephanos by his arms and legs and tossed him into cart. He landed face down on top of Ananias. The impact of his body stirred a cloud of flies to rise from the cart and the supervising slave cursed and swatted at them with his tablet. The ladder was laid on top of the bodies and the two slaves began pushing the cart down the road while the supervisor followed, looking at his tablet. Berenice took no notice as her father’s body went past.
Night came, almost as hot and much more humid than the day. Lightning lit up a massive cloud to the south, but it was too far for the thunder to be heard and no rain came to relieve the suffering of those still living on their crosses. The thunder may have been absent, but other sounds could be heard. Dogs were barking. A pair of cats were wailing at each other. Two men came running up the road from the city, the slapping of their saddles against the paving stones echoing ahead of them and following long after the had left. Who were they? Why were they running? Who knew?
Basilius was lapsing in and out of consciousness again. He was having trouble distinguishing what was real and what was not. He heard voices. He could not make out the words or where they were or if he was really hearing them. Someone called his name. No, there was no one. Flashes of lighting reveled Debborah on her cross. She was moving. Or, was she? For a moment, it looked like she wasn’t even there at all. Then, she was there again. Something moved past him; something large. Was it a camel? No, there was nothing. There was a loud scream; a woman crying out in agony. That was real, he was certain. It had come from his right. It wasn’t Berenice; she was still making occasional gurgling sounds and squirming. She was bucking her hips like she was riding a man. Was she hallucinating such a thing? A naked man walked past. It looked like Stephanos. There was a flash of lighting and he was gone.
He was in a field near his uncle’s house in Corinth. It was sunny and warm. Iola was there; not quite a woman yet and not yet Helena. She raised her skirt and showed him what was beneath it. He had seen mature women nude, modeling for his uncle. But, he had never seen a woman’s sex this close. It looked like a cowrie shell. He asked if he could touch it and she let him. It was soft and warm and Iola tittered as he touched his finger to it. Then she asked to see what he had and he lifted his tunic. She said it was smaller than a grown man’s but her mother had shown her how to make it big. The, she knelt and licked his penis and testicles and took his organ into her mouth and began to suck. All of this had happened and Basilius remembered it. The he looked down and saw Debborah sucking on his erect adult organ.
There was another cry of agony. This time from his left. Maybe it was a man. He couldn’t tell. His penis was hard. He wished he could come, that Debborah could finish him. But, she was on the cross and so was he. And he wept.
The sun was up again. How many days had it been? Was this the third, or the fifth, or the hundredth? Somewhere he had lost track. There was traffic on the road again. He barely took notice of them and they hardly looked at him. All the crucified looked the same now. Their bodies were covered with dust streaked with sweat. Their faces were haggard and sunken with blank, staring eyes,, when their eyes were open at all. They were living corpses hung up beside the road. Only the flies took notice of them., licking up the sweet and the caked blood and feces.
Basillius took no notice of the flies. There was no point, he could do nothing about them. Only when one strayed across his lips or under his nose did he bother to snort and shew it away. But, they always came back.
He could barely muster the strength to raise his head; any more movement was too much for him now. Debborah was still there, so close and yet so far. He couldn’t tell if she was still alive. Klymene, on Debborah’s left was still alive. Her body was twitching and her head was lolling from side to side. But, something was off. She was tilted to her left, as though she was falling off of the cross. Her left arm seemed distended. Basillius realized that her shoulder had dislocated. It must have been her that had screamed in the night. She probably wouldn’t last much longer.
Basilius wasn’t sure if Debborah was dead. He wasn’t sure if he was dead. He was in pain. He no longer felt isolated pains in his shoulders, his feet, his legs, his back, his throat. Now, he felt a single pain that encompassed his entire body. Everything hurt. His eyeballs hurt. His testicles hurt. His lungs hurt. His scalp hurt. The only thing that didn’t hurt were his hands. He couldn’t feel his hands at all. But, did feeling pain prove that he was alive?
It occurred to him that he might have already died and that now he was in Hell. Not in the Tartarus he had learned about as child, where Sisyphus pushed a boulder and Tantalus’ hunger and thirst were never slaked. This was another torment. To hang forever under the blazing sun, racked with constant pain and watching the one you loved suffering the same fate. This might be the true Hell.
Something was poking him in the groin. He opened his eyes and saw the aedile standing beneath him, prodding him with his rod. The official grunted and he and his slave moved on. Basilius watched them go to Berenice.
Berenice was hanging limply with her head down. But, when the aedile prodded her in the crotch, she leaned her head and shoulders back against the stipes and thrust her hips forward. The aedile chuckled and something to the slave who nodded in agreement. He continued to rub the end of the staff against her womanhood, even though it was now obvious she was still alive. The young woman moved in unison with the rod. After a few seconds though, the aedile either grew bored or felt the need to continue with his duties. He withdrew his staff and Berenice again slumped on the cross.
The adile moved to Chrysanthe. He poked repeatedly at her groin, but got no response. He struck her on the knee. Nothing. The slave made a mark on his tablet and the two of the moved onward.
Someone was calling Basillius. He couldn’t see them. He couldn’t recognize the voice. Was it his father? There were other voices. There were people moving around him. He couldn’t really see them. They were shadows at the corners of his vision. When he turned to look at them, they were gone.
“Hey, Basilius.”
He looked up into the eye of a camel. It winked at him with it’s long, thick lashes.
“Hey, Basilius,” the camel said, “Why are you hanging there on that cross?”. Then, the camel was gone.
Someone touched his cheek.
“You could have it all, my love,” whispered the voice of Helena in his ear, “The patronage of the Emperor. The adoration of Rome. Me. You could have it all.”
He looked over at Debborah. She was gone. Where was she? He couldn’t understand. How could she leave him.
The sun was going down. How many nights had it been? Three? Five? A thousand? Darkness enveloped the world. He heard the voice of Philon:
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
He was cold. Colder than he had ever been. It was dark. He could not tell if his eyes were open, it was so dark.
There was a light. He could not tell where it was coming from, but it seemed to be everywhere. And it was warm. Not scorching like the noonday sun, but warm like hot broth in your belly on a winters day. In the midst of the light, there was Debborah. She was nude and she was beautiful. Her body was perfect. It was clean and unmarred. Her hair was glistening. Her skin was radiant. She smiled and reached her hands toward him.
“Come, my love,” she said, “Come and let us be married and make love and be love forever.”
And Basilius reached his undamaged hands toward her.
……….
The afternoon of the following day, three slaves tossed the bodies they had removed from the crosses into the city garbage pit outside the Porta Esquilina. Later, friends and family of the executed and fellowChristians who had avoided persecution, paid a bribe to the watchmen and removed the bodies. Some were placed in family vaults. Some were placed the crypts of the catacombs. Some were buried in the paupers cemetery near by. The final disposition of the bodies of Basilius and Debborah is unknown.
