The sun shone from an almost cloudless sky. The air was dry and fresh, a slight wind from the east blew quietly across the colosseum. In every seat spectators were cheering, yelling and stomping their feet. The wind was the only quiet thing that day.
In celebration of Caesars 40th birthday, he had pulled out all the stops to make the day memorable: A handful of skinny african slaves had been shoved into the arena and when the crowd had grown tired of pelting them with fruit and rocks, starved lions had been sent in to finish them off.
Once the slaves were killed and partly devoured, a group of noxii were sent in. These noxii had been equipped with short swords and flimsy shields. Not being particularly eager to attack lions, they huddled together along the walls of the arena. Since the lions had not finished their previous meal, they were in no hurry to attack the noxii.
This did not please the crowd. More fruit, rocks and now rotten meat were thrown in into the arena. Attempts were made to either hurt the noxii or anger the lions enough to attack each other or the noxii. When this didnīt work, the spectators turned their booing towards Caesar.
Caesar had been enjoying his ludi but was just as disappointed as the crowd with the lack of action. With only the slightest of gestures, he commanded a set of doors to be opened and out burst three sets of scythed chariots. They cirkled the feeding lions a couple of times and then gallopped towards the noxii. The noxii threw away their useless weapons and scattered.
The first noxii was knocked over by one of the horses, trampled and finally had his pelvis and head crushed by the wheels of the chariot. The crowd cheered and roared.
A noxii ran along the walls thinking he could escape being trampled. The chariots were scythed, though, and the blades cut into the back of his legs and he stumbled forwards receiving more deep cuts to his back as he fell.
The remaining noxii ran in a circle around the lions, trying to keep the lions between them and the third chariot. The scythes cut into the lions, who screamed and lashed out at the chariots. The noxii had remained unharmed as long as it was only this chariot that chased them, but soon the first chariot joined the chase and ran straight for them. The noxii had their backs to the lions and saw the first chariot approaching them at full speed. They dove out of the way to the right and left and barely escaped. The chariot roared into the pack of lions, trampling some and cutting others.
The lions lept up and attacked the horses. The second and third chariots joined in and massacred the lions before again turning their attention towards the noxii, who had fled up against the wall. The chariots took turns riding closer and closer to the noxii, slowly cutting their legs down to bloody stumps. Once they fell to their hands and knees, their heads were easily sliced open. The crowd was on its feet cheering enthusiastically.
A gladiator descended from his chariot and walked over to the first noxii who only had his legs and back cut. He lifted him up by his hair and unsheathed his sword. He looked to the crowd for acknowledgment. The crowd cheered and pointed their thumbs down. The gladiator then looked towards Caesar for final approval.
Caesar lifted his fist into the air and the crowd fell silent with a hush. He slowly extended his thumb and pointed it up.
The crowd gasped and then booed. Why should this criminal, who hadnīt even fought, be saved? Was Caesar mad?
Slaves ran in and out of the arena through small doors, cleaning up the corpses and carcasses. The gladiators rode out of the main gates while receiving the ovation of the crowd.
The wounded noxii lay in the middle of the arena on his front. His bloodied back and legs glistened in the sun. Flies buzzed and settled on him for a meal. The noxii could not feel them and thus did not swat them away. A slight gust blew sand into his open wounds; he did not feel that either.
The same gust blew blood-soaked sand towards the main gates which opened with tremendous din. The crowd roared as a huge cross was wheeled into the arena. The cross had hinges strategically placed along its arms.
Caesars personal torturer had designed the monstrosity in a callous moment of boredom. Caesar had waited until this very occasion for its first use. If it worked it would be a sure crowd-pleaser. If it didnīt ... well ... his torturer had staked his life that it would. So, either way the crowd would be pleased.
The noxii was lifted onto the cross and each of his arms and legs were strapped securely to each of the four extremities of the cross. He could feel the cool, smooth wood against his back which might under different circumstances have felt good. He was barely conscious as the cross was raised up for the whole audience to see.
Caesar again lifted his fist and waited dramatically. Then he gave the thumbs down and one of the upper arms of the cross started to move backwards. The noxii would have screamed out in pain, but he had no air in his lungs. He just opened his mouth and squinted his eyes. Then his arm snapped backwards and he lost consciousness altogether.
The crowd went wild and pelted him with fruit.
The torturer slowly wound the second arm backwards and dislocated his shoulder. The legs took considerably more effort but eventually his hips were dislocated too.
The instrument had worked, but Caesar was disappointed. It was slow and cumbersome. And bloodless. No doubt useful as a method of torture but as far as public execution it fell short. He gestured it out of the gates. More executions, tried and true methods, and then the main event.
A dozen noxii were executed over the next couple of hours. Some were decapitated, some were dragged after horses, one was trampled by a well-trained elephant. One was even bitten repeatedly by snakes. Death did not welcome him, so he flailed around the arena and finally had to be hauled out of the gates when the audience grew tired of that particular spectacle.
The main event was always gladiator fights. One could usually count on a fairly even fight between heavily armed and superbly trained gladiators. It usually ended with someone dying but not always. Gladiators were valuable, so killing them was financially irregular. And with the copious warm-up, the audiences death-thirst had already been quenched.
In celebration of Caesars 40th birthday, he had pulled out all the stops to make the day memorable: A handful of skinny african slaves had been shoved into the arena and when the crowd had grown tired of pelting them with fruit and rocks, starved lions had been sent in to finish them off.
Once the slaves were killed and partly devoured, a group of noxii were sent in. These noxii had been equipped with short swords and flimsy shields. Not being particularly eager to attack lions, they huddled together along the walls of the arena. Since the lions had not finished their previous meal, they were in no hurry to attack the noxii.
This did not please the crowd. More fruit, rocks and now rotten meat were thrown in into the arena. Attempts were made to either hurt the noxii or anger the lions enough to attack each other or the noxii. When this didnīt work, the spectators turned their booing towards Caesar.
Caesar had been enjoying his ludi but was just as disappointed as the crowd with the lack of action. With only the slightest of gestures, he commanded a set of doors to be opened and out burst three sets of scythed chariots. They cirkled the feeding lions a couple of times and then gallopped towards the noxii. The noxii threw away their useless weapons and scattered.
The first noxii was knocked over by one of the horses, trampled and finally had his pelvis and head crushed by the wheels of the chariot. The crowd cheered and roared.
A noxii ran along the walls thinking he could escape being trampled. The chariots were scythed, though, and the blades cut into the back of his legs and he stumbled forwards receiving more deep cuts to his back as he fell.
The remaining noxii ran in a circle around the lions, trying to keep the lions between them and the third chariot. The scythes cut into the lions, who screamed and lashed out at the chariots. The noxii had remained unharmed as long as it was only this chariot that chased them, but soon the first chariot joined the chase and ran straight for them. The noxii had their backs to the lions and saw the first chariot approaching them at full speed. They dove out of the way to the right and left and barely escaped. The chariot roared into the pack of lions, trampling some and cutting others.
The lions lept up and attacked the horses. The second and third chariots joined in and massacred the lions before again turning their attention towards the noxii, who had fled up against the wall. The chariots took turns riding closer and closer to the noxii, slowly cutting their legs down to bloody stumps. Once they fell to their hands and knees, their heads were easily sliced open. The crowd was on its feet cheering enthusiastically.
A gladiator descended from his chariot and walked over to the first noxii who only had his legs and back cut. He lifted him up by his hair and unsheathed his sword. He looked to the crowd for acknowledgment. The crowd cheered and pointed their thumbs down. The gladiator then looked towards Caesar for final approval.
Caesar lifted his fist into the air and the crowd fell silent with a hush. He slowly extended his thumb and pointed it up.
The crowd gasped and then booed. Why should this criminal, who hadnīt even fought, be saved? Was Caesar mad?
Slaves ran in and out of the arena through small doors, cleaning up the corpses and carcasses. The gladiators rode out of the main gates while receiving the ovation of the crowd.
The wounded noxii lay in the middle of the arena on his front. His bloodied back and legs glistened in the sun. Flies buzzed and settled on him for a meal. The noxii could not feel them and thus did not swat them away. A slight gust blew sand into his open wounds; he did not feel that either.
The same gust blew blood-soaked sand towards the main gates which opened with tremendous din. The crowd roared as a huge cross was wheeled into the arena. The cross had hinges strategically placed along its arms.
Caesars personal torturer had designed the monstrosity in a callous moment of boredom. Caesar had waited until this very occasion for its first use. If it worked it would be a sure crowd-pleaser. If it didnīt ... well ... his torturer had staked his life that it would. So, either way the crowd would be pleased.
The noxii was lifted onto the cross and each of his arms and legs were strapped securely to each of the four extremities of the cross. He could feel the cool, smooth wood against his back which might under different circumstances have felt good. He was barely conscious as the cross was raised up for the whole audience to see.
Caesar again lifted his fist and waited dramatically. Then he gave the thumbs down and one of the upper arms of the cross started to move backwards. The noxii would have screamed out in pain, but he had no air in his lungs. He just opened his mouth and squinted his eyes. Then his arm snapped backwards and he lost consciousness altogether.
The crowd went wild and pelted him with fruit.
The torturer slowly wound the second arm backwards and dislocated his shoulder. The legs took considerably more effort but eventually his hips were dislocated too.
The instrument had worked, but Caesar was disappointed. It was slow and cumbersome. And bloodless. No doubt useful as a method of torture but as far as public execution it fell short. He gestured it out of the gates. More executions, tried and true methods, and then the main event.
A dozen noxii were executed over the next couple of hours. Some were decapitated, some were dragged after horses, one was trampled by a well-trained elephant. One was even bitten repeatedly by snakes. Death did not welcome him, so he flailed around the arena and finally had to be hauled out of the gates when the audience grew tired of that particular spectacle.
The main event was always gladiator fights. One could usually count on a fairly even fight between heavily armed and superbly trained gladiators. It usually ended with someone dying but not always. Gladiators were valuable, so killing them was financially irregular. And with the copious warm-up, the audiences death-thirst had already been quenched.