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Constantinople
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
Oh Barb, I fear, that is not historical correct.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fez
Maybe this model for DIMIOS déntro:
19
Afternoon, 1 June 1453
The ultimate nightmare has begun. Adelfi and I are released from the whipping post. We fall to the ground and are left to lie there, bleeding, hurting and exhausted from our ordeal under the lash.
The seemingly endless mass of Turkish soldiers, who fill the forum in which we were flogged as well as the Hippodrome beyond, parts to allow two horses through. The beasts drag four timbers. One is slightly charred ... suggesting it has been hastily requisitioned from the smouldering ruins of a nearby structure.
A crew of soldiers, acting under the orders of the Captain of the Guard and overseen by one of his lieutenants, immediately set themselves about the task of assembling two rustic crosses and digging a pair of holes to set them in.
"They're not wasting any time, are they?" whispers Adelfi uneasily, propping herself on an elbow to better observe the frenzied proceedings.
"No, the Sultan ordered that we be crucified in time for Friday noon prayer. That doesn't give them much time. They're scared. Who knows what he might do if they fail to carry out his orders precisely."
It's not long before all is in readiness.
The Captain orders that we be moved. Eager hands from behind slide under my armpits, and I am half lifted, half dragged to my waiting cross. I kick feebly at first, but am far too weak to offer any real resistance. Adelfi puts up even less of a fight.
Within moments we find ourselves lying flat on our backs, pressed against the rough wooden spine of our cross, staring up at the grey overhead clouds of smoke and swirling cinders. A reddish glow, reflected from the burning waterfront districts, ominously paints the darkened sky.
Soldiers squat all around us .. some to hold us down ... others, equipped with hammers and spikes, to nail us to our crosses. My arms are forcibly stretched out along the crossbeam, my wrists held firmly against the wood.
I glance to my right. A soldier is already positioning a nail over Adelfi's outstretched wrist, a look of intense concentration on his swarthy face as he raises a muscular hammer arm. He brings it crashing down. A spark flies. The ring of iron on iron is drowned out by Adelfi's horrified scream. Spattered droplets of blood adorn her stretched arm.
My turn. I feel the point of a nail jabbed into my left wrist, and instinctively turn my head to look. I try to pull my wrist away from the impending horror, but my arm is pinned tight to the wood by a grinning Turk, who looks me knowingly and cruelly in the eye. The hammer swings and my cry of anguish equals and combines with that of Adelfi's who simultaneously suffers the nailing of her second wrist.
There is a scramble as they move swiftly to secure my right wrist to the wood. The pain, this time, is no less ... like a thunderbolt! I scream and arch my back, digging my heels into the soft turf.
Then it's on to our feet. They seem to be racing against time, so swift is the transition. Strong hands grab my ankles and press my right foot firmly against a small wooden cross bar. Then my left is placed directly on top of it. My knees are bent upward. My head lolls from side to side as I cry, "No, please ... Nooooooo!"
The nail is driven with gusto, and driven straight through one foot and on through the second, crushing any bone or cartilage in its way. I squirm and buck, raise my head, and drop it hard against the wood ... once, twice ... trying vainly to knock myself senseless ... but nothing arrests the pain and shock.
Adelfi screams again. I lift my head. They have used two nails to pin her feet to the wood!
To a resounding chorus of shouts and applause, we are raised. The wood uprights are dropped in hastily dug holes. We are flung about like rag dolls on impact. Our crosses are hastily secured. We have been crucified.
Self-satisfied, they step back to admire their handiwork, and to watch transfixed as nakedly and helplessly we twist and writhe, performing the inevitable dance of the crucified.
Bathed in sweat and blood, screaming and begging for mercy, we suffer before thousands of watching eyes. Not a single soldier leaves, although a way of passage is made for a steady stream of citizens, who are driven endlessly past our wretched little tableau.
The are forced by to see and learn, as the Sultan intended. Some look, others stare, others glance quickly our way to appease the soldiers who drive them past us, but then look away.
They have seen, the point is made. We can only hope the end comes soon.
FINIS
Afternoon, 1 June 1453
The ultimate nightmare has begun. Adelfi and I are released from the whipping post. We fall to the ground and are left to lie there, bleeding, hurting and exhausted from our ordeal under the lash.
The seemingly endless mass of Turkish soldiers, who fill the forum in which we were flogged as well as the Hippodrome beyond, parts to allow two horses through. The beasts drag four timbers. One is slightly charred ... suggesting it has been hastily requisitioned from the smouldering ruins of a nearby structure.
A crew of soldiers, acting under the orders of the Captain of the Guard and overseen by one of his lieutenants, immediately set themselves about the task of assembling two rustic crosses and digging a pair of holes to set them in.
"They're not wasting any time, are they?" whispers Adelfi uneasily, propping herself on an elbow to better observe the frenzied proceedings.
"No, the Sultan ordered that we be crucified in time for Friday noon prayer. That doesn't give them much time. They're scared. Who knows what he might do if they fail to carry out his orders precisely."
It's not long before all is in readiness.
The Captain orders that we be moved. Eager hands from behind slide under my armpits, and I am half lifted, half dragged to my waiting cross. I kick feebly at first, but am far too weak to offer any real resistance. Adelfi puts up even less of a fight.
Within moments we find ourselves lying flat on our backs, pressed against the rough wooden spine of our cross, staring up at the grey overhead clouds of smoke and swirling cinders. A reddish glow, reflected from the burning waterfront districts, ominously paints the darkened sky.
Soldiers squat all around us .. some to hold us down ... others, equipped with hammers and spikes, to nail us to our crosses. My arms are forcibly stretched out along the crossbeam, my wrists held firmly against the wood.
I glance to my right. A soldier is already positioning a nail over Adelfi's outstretched wrist, a look of intense concentration on his swarthy face as he raises a muscular hammer arm. He brings it crashing down. A spark flies. The ring of iron on iron is drowned out by Adelfi's horrified scream. Spattered droplets of blood adorn her stretched arm.
My turn. I feel the point of a nail jabbed into my left wrist, and instinctively turn my head to look. I try to pull my wrist away from the impending horror, but my arm is pinned tight to the wood by a grinning Turk, who looks me knowingly and cruelly in the eye. The hammer swings and my cry of anguish equals and combines with that of Adelfi's who simultaneously suffers the nailing of her second wrist.
There is a scramble as they move swiftly to secure my right wrist to the wood. The pain, this time, is no less ... like a thunderbolt! I scream and arch my back, digging my heels into the soft turf.
Then it's on to our feet. They seem to be racing against time, so swift is the transition. Strong hands grab my ankles and press my right foot firmly against a small wooden cross bar. Then my left is placed directly on top of it. My knees are bent upward. My head lolls from side to side as I cry, "No, please ... Nooooooo!"
The nail is driven with gusto, and driven straight through one foot and on through the second, crushing any bone or cartilage in its way. I squirm and buck, raise my head, and drop it hard against the wood ... once, twice ... trying vainly to knock myself senseless ... but nothing arrests the pain and shock.
Adelfi screams again. I lift my head. They have used two nails to pin her feet to the wood!
To a resounding chorus of shouts and applause, we are raised. The wood uprights are dropped in hastily dug holes. We are flung about like rag dolls on impact. Our crosses are hastily secured. We have been crucified.
Self-satisfied, they step back to admire their handiwork, and to watch transfixed as nakedly and helplessly we twist and writhe, performing the inevitable dance of the crucified.
Bathed in sweat and blood, screaming and begging for mercy, we suffer before thousands of watching eyes. Not a single soldier leaves, although a way of passage is made for a steady stream of citizens, who are driven endlessly past our wretched little tableau.
The are forced by to see and learn, as the Sultan intended. Some look, others stare, others glance quickly our way to appease the soldiers who drive them past us, but then look away.
They have seen, the point is made. We can only hope the end comes soon.
FINIS
Damn Turks didn't even do the Virgin Martyr Prevention Protocol!
!!
Very well told, Barb!
!!Very well told, Barb!
LittleSiss
Sorceress
BBC production staff denounces any references or images that may resemble John Cleese.
It is purely by coincidence!
It is purely by coincidence!
Giggle snortBBC production staff denounces any references or images that may resemble John Cleese.
It is purely by coincidence!
Is she 'Siss' or just sassy? Tree will contemplate...BBC production staff denounces any references or images that may resemble John Cleese.
It is purely by coincidence!
bobinder
ARTISAN
'The Life of Brian'BBC production staff denounces any references or images that may resemble John Cleese.
It is purely by coincidence!
(Scene 16: Crucifixion: Could Be Worse...)
CENTURION: Quiet! Silly person. Guards! Search the house.
(clomp clomp clomp...)
You know the penalty laid down by Roman law for harbouring a known criminal?
MATTHIAS: No.
CENTURION: Crucifixion.
MATTHIAS: Oh.
CENTURION: Nasty, eh?
MATTHIAS: Hm. Could be worse.
CENTURION: What do you mean, 'could be worse'?
MATTHIAS: Well, you could be stabbed.
CENTURION: Stabbed? Takes a second. Crucifixion lasts hours! It's a slow, horrible death!
MATTHIAS: Well, at least it gets you out in the open air.
CENTURION: You're weird.
As intense a crucifixion scene as I have read in a while, Barb. Excellent work. I was sweating and appalled, and not half aroused by it.
Props to Madiosi, as always, for the excellent illustration.
A rather sad end for our plucky girls.
Saved this till I was home from work - been looking forward to it all day!
It really helps to while away a tedious day at work when you know you have a pearl of great price awaiting you!
And this was a real pearl from Barb, yes, she's written crucifixion scenes before, but she makes each one fresh, and different, and this was absolutely splendid.
Big hand from me, Barb!
And another for your able illustrator!
Epilogue.
The story of Varvara and Adelfi's perils and escapes in Constantinople is based on historical fact.
Constantinople, the great Roman city on the Bosporus that Constantine founded, had outlasted its imperial rival, Rome , by roughly a millennium before it was captured and sacked by the Ottoman Turks on 29 May 1453, after a siege of 53 days. The Ottomans were led by the 21-year old Sultan, Mehmet, who granted his victorious army, as a reward, the traditional 3-day period of plunder ... which according to the sources entailed a "great slaughter of Christians throughout the city" in addition to widespread rape and enslavement. In addition, the city was heavily looted and burned. It's churches were desecrated. Whole districts were left uninhabitable.
At the end of the three-day orgy, the Sultan Mehmet ordered that all looting and violence cease and staged a great "triumph" ... a grand parade of his forces through the city, at the end of which he took Friday midday prayer in Hagia Sophia, the city's ancient domed-church, which he reconsecrated as the mosque, Ayasofya.
As a man of mercurial temperament and substantial, though varied, sexual appetite, his behavior was often unpredictable. And so it is said that on emerging from Friday midday prayer, and catching sight of two Christian women crucified naked outside the Roman Hippodrome, he became incensed. Having earlier proclaimed that all Christians who had avoided slavery could return safely to their homes, he thought the crucifixion of these two women to be a flagrant contradiction of his orders.
He had the two women taken down from their crosses, and had those responsible ... the Captain of the Guard and his two lieutenants brought before him on charges of insubordination.
When the Captain protested that he and his men were in fact carrying out the Sultan's orders and reminded him that these were the very women who had assaulted him in the harem with a bronze shield, and hit him over the head with it, he denied any memory of the incident or of ordering their execution.
The Captain of the Guard and his lieutenants were promptly beheaded.
Little is known then of what became of our two heroines. Rumor has it that they recovered from the ordeal of being publicly flogged and crucified, and became stellar figures in the Sultan's harem, enjoying a privileged life which included their own special sumptuously appointed apartment. It is said the Sultan often went to that apartment, and much to the consternation of everyone at the palace, would not be seen again for days.
The story of Varvara and Adelfi's perils and escapes in Constantinople is based on historical fact.
Constantinople, the great Roman city on the Bosporus that Constantine founded, had outlasted its imperial rival, Rome , by roughly a millennium before it was captured and sacked by the Ottoman Turks on 29 May 1453, after a siege of 53 days. The Ottomans were led by the 21-year old Sultan, Mehmet, who granted his victorious army, as a reward, the traditional 3-day period of plunder ... which according to the sources entailed a "great slaughter of Christians throughout the city" in addition to widespread rape and enslavement. In addition, the city was heavily looted and burned. It's churches were desecrated. Whole districts were left uninhabitable.
At the end of the three-day orgy, the Sultan Mehmet ordered that all looting and violence cease and staged a great "triumph" ... a grand parade of his forces through the city, at the end of which he took Friday midday prayer in Hagia Sophia, the city's ancient domed-church, which he reconsecrated as the mosque, Ayasofya.
As a man of mercurial temperament and substantial, though varied, sexual appetite, his behavior was often unpredictable. And so it is said that on emerging from Friday midday prayer, and catching sight of two Christian women crucified naked outside the Roman Hippodrome, he became incensed. Having earlier proclaimed that all Christians who had avoided slavery could return safely to their homes, he thought the crucifixion of these two women to be a flagrant contradiction of his orders.
He had the two women taken down from their crosses, and had those responsible ... the Captain of the Guard and his two lieutenants brought before him on charges of insubordination.
When the Captain protested that he and his men were in fact carrying out the Sultan's orders and reminded him that these were the very women who had assaulted him in the harem with a bronze shield, and hit him over the head with it, he denied any memory of the incident or of ordering their execution.
The Captain of the Guard and his lieutenants were promptly beheaded.
Little is known then of what became of our two heroines. Rumor has it that they recovered from the ordeal of being publicly flogged and crucified, and became stellar figures in the Sultan's harem, enjoying a privileged life which included their own special sumptuously appointed apartment. It is said the Sultan often went to that apartment, and much to the consternation of everyone at the palace, would not be seen again for days.
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windar
Teller of Tales
So now we seem to be taking people down from the cross alive all over the place. A trend I approve of, of course (and Stan didn't even have to lift a finger). Suffering should be a spiritual growth experience and death renders that beside the point. The Sultan was a truly wise man and deserves all the enjoyment Varvara and Adelfi can bring him and all the gratitude they will no doubt show him.
.
It is said the Sultan often went to that apartment, and much to the consternation of everyone at the palace, would not be seen again for days...
Let them stay consternated... I wouldn't be back for days with access to these vixens!!!
Harem wardrobe now available at Nailus Martyrs. Harm girls not included...
Great story Barb!!!
Let them stay consternated... I wouldn't be back for days with access to these vixens!!!
Harem wardrobe now available at Nailus Martyrs. Harm girls not included...
Great story Barb!!!
Cashing in on a good thing?