Triumvirate - Part One - The Parade

This story was inspired by the Poussin painting 

"The Martyrdom of St. Erasmus" 

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Part One -- The Parade 

"What's all the excitement?" 

"They've captured Davidius. Everyone's going to the castle to see him brought before the king." 

The haggard woman dropped her sickle. "Does this mean the end of the revolt?" 

"Their army was scattered by a surprise attack last night. Supposedly they were betrayed by a woman in their own camp. Glauken and some of his men escaped, but no one knows to where." 

The woman grabbed her daughter's shoulders. "Does Davidius know where they are, Celeas?" 

"I'm sure that's what the king wants to know." 

"Then we must go to see it it's true. Glauken is our last hope to end this reign of terror. Davidius must hold out until Glauken's remaining army can attack." 

Celeas and her mother left the wheat field where they had toiled all their lives and began the two-mile journey to the village. They arrived just in time to see Davidius being paraded amongst the throngs of people who had come to witness his capture. He was in a metal cage, which sat upon a cart being drawn by draft horses. Davidius' wrists were locked into metal rings attached to a board six inches wide and five feet long. The board was run through metal hooks on the roof of the cage, leaving the man's sandalled feet suspended a few inches from the floor of the cage. As he passed, the townspeople would spit or throw food at him to show their support for the king. Even those who secretly had backed the revolt now wanted the king's army to see their loyalty. 

"These people change horses easily," the woman said to her daughter. 

Nearly in tears, Celeas noticed, "They've removed his shirt, but I see no marks other than what our cowardly friends have hurled upon him." 

"They're saving him for the king." 

"He'll never tell," blurted the daughter. "He and Glauken have been best of friends since childhood. Davidius will never betray him." 

"You, Celeas, have also been his friend since you were children. Try not to think about what might happen." 

Soon the cart reached the drawbridge of the castle and crossed the moat into the castle courtyard. As the drawbridge was raised, the horses were unhitched and then the cart was pulled by six servants into the king's court, whereupon his throne he sat, waiting. 

"Present him to me," boomed the king. 

Two female servants entered the cage and placed metal rings connected by a single chain on Davidius' ankles. Other servants began to disassemble the cage as the two women released the board from the roof. Davidius was then led off the cart toward the throne as the board binding his wrists now rested on his shoulders. He stood before the king. 

"So, you thought you could replace me, is that it?" the king inquired. "If not for your lust for women you might have succeeded. But that's all over with now. I only want to know one thing. Where is Glauken?" 

Davidius stared directly at the king, but said nothing. 

"I expected as much. I have prepared for this day. Balstok come here. How many men have you broken in your career?" 

"Countless dozens, sire." 

"Exactly. You see, slave, I have brought Balsok here all the way from Gaul because of his reputation. I am paying him many pieces of gold to extract the information I need. He will earn his keep by any means necessary because he has no intention of soiling his perfect record. Hopefully, he will start by cleaning you up, since you have spoiled my court with your foul odors." 

Davidius still said nothing, but he expanded his chest and sneered at the king. It was his way of telling them he would not be broken easily. 

Balstok and his assistants sprang into action. Grabbing each end of the board, they dragged Davidius to the darkly lit stairwell leading to the bowels of the castle. At the bottom were holding cells and a large room filled with devices used to create pain. Davidius was laid face up on the floor in a corner of the room with the board several inches past his head. Balstok barked, "Strip him," and it was done. "Now clean him. Do not damage any part of his body." 

Several of the king's servants entered with buckets of water, soap and brushes. They drenched the man with water and applied the soap with scrub brushes. One of Balstok's helpers stood on the board to make sure the prisoner would not move. After he was thoroughly lathered and scrubbed down, the servants retrieved fresh water to rinse away the soap, dirt and odor. Then they turned him face down and repeated the process. He was brought to a standing position before being dried with linens. 

The victim now clean, Balstok smirked, "Now we can get through this without becoming ill. Unchain his feet and take him to the slab." 

The man from Gaul had brought his own torture instrument with him. It was a device he had perfected through years of torturing people for confessions or information. The slab was a solid block of wood three feet in height. It was four feet wide and five feet long. There was a metal wheel that locked into saw-tooth gears on one end. At that end on top were two metal rings three feet apart. These were opened and Davidius' ankles were placed inside as he sat on the slab. While the ankle locks were clamped shut, two other assistants grabbed the board, which had bound the prisoner since his capture, and forced the man to lie face up on the slab. Now they stretched his arms past the other end of the slab and brought the board down towards the floor. Balstok's men had earlier bolted two cranks to the floor at this end of the slab. Attached to each crank was a chain, which the assistants wrapped around and locked to the board. Now they pulled the board away from the slab, stretching the man lengthwise. Turning the cranks, the chains pulled his bound wrists down until they were twelve inches from the floor. 

The end of the slab stopped at Davidius' shoulder blades. His head was hanging off the edge and his arms were stretched beyond his head and down towards the floor. This caused his rib cage to rise high into the air. 

Balstok was almost ready to begin his task. "Put something over his genitalia. I don't want to have that thing pointing at me all day." 

An assistant produced a handkerchief and laid it over the man's penis and testicles. The rest of his body was completely exposed. 

Now Balstok sat on a stool in front of the man's inverted face and spoke. "Here you have no name. To me you are nothing but a slave and I will address you accordingly. I call this device the slab as a nickname, but officially it is known as the back-breaker stretch rack." 

Davidius flexed his chest and tried to raise his arms, testing the strength of the torture device. 

"I know you can't see, but those rings holding your feet are adjustable. I can turn a wheel and move them toward either end of the slab. Then at this end, your crucifixion board can now be raised or lowered as I please. I've added little additional procedures that we can apply while you are stretched here. There's only one way for you to avoid all this and that is to tell me the whereabouts of this man named Glauken. Do you want to tell me now or will I need to persuade you?" 

Davidius was already struggling to breathe. Being stretched like this compressed his diaphragm so that his stomach could hardly rise to receive air. He glared at his tormentor with defiance. "Do what you must." 

"Start with the 20 blows!" boomed Balstok. Two henchman approached the slab. Each was carrying a leather strap two inches in width. Davidius lifted his head to watch them take their positions on either side of the slab. Allowing his head to fall back, he smiled at the interrogator still sitting on his stool. Balstok smiled in return and gave the order, "Whip him." 

The men began alternating blows with the straps, each one striking across the man's mighty chest. Davidius' arms bulged as he struggled against the board stretching him. This made his chest expand even bigger as it received the blows--one from his left, then from his right. 

"Cover the entire chest," barked Balstok. The straps landed with accuracy, striking from the armpits to the end of his rib cage. One struck his sternum, another across his nipples. The leather was too wide to draw blood, but red marks began to form upon his skin. Each man silently counted 10 blows and the whipping stopped. 

"Where is your friend?" Davidius' eyes were closed as he relaxed his arms and chest. Balstok raised a finger and pointed towards the victim's feet. One of his assistants turned the wheel and the ankle locks moved toward the end of the slab. Davidius gave a slight murmur as he was further stretched. Balstock raised his hand and the wheel was locked. 

"You have only begun to feel the power of my beautiful invention, slave. Now tell me, where is Glauken?" 

Davidius opened his eyes but said nothing. 

"20 more blows." And the whipping of his chest resumed. Ten from each side creating more marks before it stopped. "Are you ready to talk? Where is Glauken hiding?" There was no answer. "You gambled and you lost. There is no one here to help you now. You are the only one who can stop this. You must talk."