Render Unto Caeser

Render Unto Caesar

I

Punitive Expedition

The sun had fallen hours before we approached the village of Tov Kepha. Flavius Gaius, the first Centurion of our cohort had accompanied our expedition. I did not resent this intrusion upon my command, we were good friends and he allowed me free reign over my men. I suggested Flavius remain a mile to the west of the village with half the century while I led the remaining men south to circle around and take up our position on the eastern approach. We moved through the night with the quiet stealth of the best-trained century in the legion. I am Centurion Cassius Priscus, I lead the first century of the third cohort; The pride of the tenth legion. For the last two years we have been reduced to chasing thieves and fighting goat herders. Still it was better for the men than wasting their pay on cheap whores and cheaper wine: such was the curse of garrison duty.

The men settled in to catch a few hours' sleep. The morning would bring the slaughter that passed for battle these days. They were tired enough from ten days of trudging over this land forsaken by all of the gods. Now vengeance was at hand.

Three weeks ago five of their number had been volunteered to escort a local tax collector. It was a safe, simple, boring duty, inflicted on them for some minor and long forgotten transgression. They had been reported stopping at five villages without incident. Then they had simply disappeared. The tax collector, escort, and taxes vanished without a trace. We were sent to investigate.

Behind me a squirming sack fell to the ground with a thud. Marcus, my adjutant, had unloaded our prisoner from the back of his donkey. A fat little man who claimed to be the priest, or teacher, from the village we were now encircling. His nose was swollen and bent to the right from his brief interrogation. It was broken but the bleeding had stopped. We had captured him two days ago heading west. When we searched him we found over 300 shekels and 900 denarii, the coin used to collect taxes. After a brief but energetic questioning he told us at least part of the tale.

The tax collector was dead. Stoned by the local villagers we were now encircling. The taxes were now recovered from our prisoner, who swore he was trying to return them: Even as he was headed directly away from the provincial capital. The only thing the village priest steadfastly refused to disclose was the fate of the military escort. That we would learn soon enough; for now the priest remained gagged. He would warn no one of our presence.

The guard was posted and the rest of the men slept. With the first sign of false dawn the legionaries were roused and silently prepared for battle. At my signal our horn was sounded; far to the west another answered our call. The men moved out in formation and quickly entered the wakening village. The villagers were herded to the communal well near the center of Tov Kepha. There were some 80 to 100 people in the village but less than 40 adult males. No resistance was offered.

"Who speaks for this village?" Flavius Galarius bellowed at the cowering throng. None of them seemed to understand Latin so I repeated this in the native tongue. The crowed muttered and parted exposing an older man with a graying beard, his wife, son, and daughter stood by his side. "I am the village elder." He said with a twinge of fear in his quavering voice. I moved to stand in front of the man, two soldiers accompanied me. The priest was still held at the edge of the village, so that none knew he was our prisoner. "Where is the tax collector?" I asked calmly. The man's eyes darted left and right. "He never arrived in our village sir." He said with barely a tremble in his voice.

I nodded to the two soldiers who had accompanied me. One reached forward grabbing the son by his hair yanking him forward. The boy stumbled to his knees and the second soldier brought his sword down on the exposed neck nearly severing it. The man's wife screamed. Rushing forward she gathered up her fallen son helplessly trying to hold the flopping head in place as she rocked back and forth on her knees. Fresh blood soaked her robe as she wailed in disbelief. "Where is the tax collector?" I repeated slightly louder to be heard over the weeping woman. The man pulled his eyes away from his dead son and looked at me. "The tax collector is dead. He was found with another man's wife. He was stoned to death under our laws." He spoke rapidly in a monotone, condemning his entire village with his words. " You live under Roman law now; " I informed him. " and where are the taxes he had collected?" The old man barely hesitated," The village priest has taken the money to the Governor where he will explain the situation and plead for mercy."

"What happened to the soldiers who escorted him?" I asked. Now true terror showed in the old mans eyes; he hesitated, thinking before he spoke. "They ran off, … fled, when they failed to protect…" I never let him finish his lie. With a nod from me the bloody sword swung downward cleaving into the wife's skull like a ripe melon. Her laments ended as her lifeless body flopped down next to her son. "Where are they?" I asked angrily as his daughter was dragged forward. He stared at his dead wife in disbelief but said nothing. I nodded and the bloody sword was drawn back once more. " No! Stop! I'll show you, spare her, please." I held up my hand staying her execution, for now. The old one was true to his word. He led us to a cairn in a dry riverbed. Under the stones were the bodies of the missing soldiers and the tax collector. The soldiers were not nearly as decomposed as time would warrant and had a bluish tint to their skin. "Poison?" I asked, the old man nodded listlessly.

Now that all the questions were answered we moved quickly. Villagers were divided into two groups. Those fit enough to make a forced march to the Capitol, without slowing us down, where gathered and placed under guard. All others were immediately put to the sword. The only exceptions were the priest, the elder, and his daughter. In the end 18 men, 7 women, the priest and the elder remained alive. There was little of value to pillage but the men gathered a modest amount of silver and copper trinkets. A second donkey was procured for the village elder before all the livestock was slaughtered. The buildings were soaked with oil and set ablaze. A few heads were staked at the entrances of the village as a warning to any passerby. The century formed a phalanx around the prisoners and began the forced march to the Capitol.

I studied the elder as we marched toward the capitol. He was terrified of course but didn't allow it to show. He talked quietly with his daughter. He was unused to riding and his daughter stayed by his side steadying him as he swayed on the donkey's back. His daughter was old enough to have married years ago but she still seemed fresh and comely, perhaps the choicest of the female prisoners. I learned her name, Rebecca. The column halted at midday and the prisoners were quickly feed and watered. The soldiers grumbled at the delay, they normally ate their fistful of grain as they marched. The march resumed as soon as the prisoners were finished and continued without pause until we made our camp long after dusk.

The march continued, inevitably slowed by the pace of the prisoners who were footsore after the first day. It was well after sunset on the fourth day when we arrived at the gates of the Capital. The officer of the watch opened the gate for us and the prisoners were marched through the deserted streets to the citadel. The men were exhausted, but still they deserved some reward for completing their mission. The male prisoners were placed in the empty paddock and eight legionaries were assigned to guard them. The women were marched to the parade ground, at the center of the citadel. Dozens of flickering torches set in sconces along the eastern and northern walls cast an eerie illumination on the central square. The men formed up on the parade ground and watch fires were lit along the southern edge to add a bit more light to the proceedings.

The Parade ground was used for formal assemblies as well as military drills. Two whipping posts half the height of a man stood along the northern wall as well as a long bench used to hold a prisoner being questioned under torture. A chopping block used for military executions completed the assembly. The women were obviously frantic as they backed away from the advancing men and were forced forward toward these devices.

The century assembled facing the woman. Nine ranks of eight soldiers and 20 auxiliaries were all staring at the prisoners with a hunger that had wiped the exhaustion from their minds. I stepped between the men and the prisoners. "These woman will be brought before the Governor in the morning." I addressed them. " In the morning they will all be alive, not visibly injured, and properly dressed. Do I make myself clear?" A roar of approval went up from the men. I stepped to the right and let Marcus take charge of the preparations. The women screamed and shrieked in dismay as two ranks of soldiers moved forward and began to strip and bind them.

In short order Marcus reported all was in readiness. I surveyed his handiwork. All seven of the female prisoners were naked. Their clothing formed a loose pile against the wall. Four of the women now knelt along the length of the bench, they were bent over its width and their wrists had been pulled underneath and tied to their ankles. They were faced in alternate directions the first facing the wall and the next staring at the leering troops. Four naked bottoms trembled in the flickering light waiting to be used. Two other women were simply bent over the short whipping posts, with their wrists bound to the embedded iron rings. They where able to partially shield their nakedness, by twisting around to the far side of the posts One had even managed to cross her legs pressing them tightly together as if that would somehow save her from my lustful soldiers. The elder's daughter, the one called Rebecca, now knelt before the chopping block her neck resting in it's blood stained groove and her hands bound to the iron ring at its base She was the closest to the men but facing the wall and the other bound and naked women.

I was the senior Officer and was expected to take first choice in all plunder. In the interest of morale I stepped forward and inspected the naked offerings in the flickering light. As I walked among the bound prisoners my hand wandered across their bare flesh. Smooth round asses quivering with dread as nipples hardened in the cool night breeze. Some of the woman were sobbing, others pleading, a few were mumbling prayers but Rebecca remained silent, her eyes tightly closed as she knelt, terrified, desperate, waiting. It helped me choose. I shifted my Braccae aside. I tucked the front of my tunic up into my belt before pulling off my loincloth. She shivered with fright as I knelt down behind her. Leaning forward the bottom edge of my hardened leather coriaceus (breastplate) dug into the smooth curve of her naked ass. I reached down and cupped her dangling breasts. She gasped when I cruelly twisted her hardening nipples. I bent even lower pressing down against her back, my breath on her neck. " Feel free to scream, bitch." I hissed in her ear. I straightened, reluctantly releasing her breasts. She flinched as my manhood brushed down the crevice between her ass cheeks. I grabbed her hips and thrust into her. She gasped in shock and pain as I entered her. She was as tight and dry, as any virgin bride would be. I reared back and slammed into her again. I knew it must hurt. I wanted it to hurt, but it felt so good. I really wanted to hear this one proud bitch scream. The third thrust did bring a scream but from another girl, one of the ones bound to the whipping posts. She began to cry out hysterically as she watched what would soon be her own fate. The four women knelling at the bench were whimpering as they tugged helplessly against their bonds. The men cheered me on. After that first gasp Rebecca had become stoically silent as I drove into her. She was too tight and I was too eager, I could not last. All too quickly spurted out the fluid that would moisten her passage for her coming ordeal. I pulled out of her wiping my dripping manhood across her smooth bottom. There was no blood, so I knew she wasn't really a virgin. Tears were trickling down her cheeks as I walked away.

Marcus barked an order and the first rank of men stepped forward. The women began to plead and beg with renewed urgency. The four bound to the bench strained futilely against their ropes. The sight of their squirming struggles only served to further inflame the men's lust. The two bound to the whipping posts tried to twist and squirm away from their assailants but they were quickly grabbed, trapped and impaled upon Roman cocks. Eight men and seven women caused few problems. Marcus was the odd man out in the first rank and he simply knelt in front of the one of the woman bent across the bench. Grabbing a fistful of her hair he raised her head and thrust himself into her gaping mouth. She gagged and gasped. The man who knelt behind her drove into her pushing her forward while Marcus waited in her mouth. Her body was buffeted back and forth over the rough wooden surface as they took turns plunging into her. Tears poured down her cheeks as she choked and sputtered. Some of the women who did have free use of their mouths were still begging for mercy while others cried out in outrage or pain.

The first rank finished and relieved the men guarding the male prisoners while the second rank moved forward. The process went quickly and with typical Roman efficiency. A fellow in the third rank knelt behind Rebecca and plunged his hand into her ravaged sex. His fingers sloshed in the ejaculate left by his comrades, which he then smeared along the crack of her ass. Rebecca's eyes widened in shock and she spoke for the first time since her rapes began " No! Please not there. I've never.." the soldier paid no attention as his thumb plunged into her narrow opening. She lowered her head biting down on her lip. His hands grasped her cheeks brutally pulling them open. She uttered a startled gasp as he thrust himself into her virgin opening. Maybe it was shock or maybe a point of pride for her, she still didn't scream as her ass was brutally ravaged. I was sorely disappointed. By the time the fourth rank was finished the women were barely whimpering though some of the women still screeched when a soldier choose to use their back sides, by the tenth rank they were silent but for an occasional grunt or groan. I did not remained to watch the auxiliaries finish and those interested begin their second go around. I directed that the women should be untied, dressed, and returned to the paddock with the other prisoners when my men were finished. It took less than two hours for the seven women to service the entire century.