CRUCIFIED MEN

Man of Son

1

The working day was almost done, the carpenter started to put his tools away while his adopted son swept the sawdust from the floor, it had been another hot day and they were both disappointed that the night did not promise any release from the humidity that caused them both to sweat from their labours. The heat did not help the fevered atmosphere, the hotheads had been causing trouble again and it was always the ordinary folk that ended up suffering , The Carpenter looked at the table he had been constructing with the Boy, it was good work, the lad had talent he hoped it would not be wasted in the struggles with the invaders.

Suddenly they both jumped as there was a loud banging at the thick wooden door, the Boy looked up in alarm as the noise exploded through the workshop, sounds of muffled voices and scuffling echoed from. The Carpenter put his fingers to his lips indicating silence hoping that whoever it was would think the workshop deserted. 

“open up in the name of Rome” comes the stark command from behind the door “we are on the emperors business, open the door or face the consequences”

The burly Carpenter sighed and whispered to the Boy “keep back” before unbolting the door, he eased it open a crack. A Roman officer stood “we have work for you carpenter, let us in” commands the soldier in a measured voice. 

“It is late sir, if you have business maybe we can discuss it in the morning, I have to get my son back for his supper” 

“This business cannot be delayed carpenter” states the Officer sharply and pushes the door open forcing his way in. A number of soldiers stand behind the officer, dirty and angry, the Carpenter can almost sense the pent-up fury radiating from them and fears how the slightest perceived provocation will explode into violence, he fears for his stepson and in all honesty himself. The invaders are tired and unpredictable, their reactions are always disproportionate and savage right now. He can still hear the sounds of shouted anger in the gathering humid gloom beyond his workshop door.

The Carpenter swallows hard and forces his voice to sound friendly and reasonable, he makes a smile crack across his tight bearded face “how can I be of help sir?” 

The sounds of rage get closer and manifest as two sweating soldiers drag a chained man to the door.

The Officer points at their Prisoner “build a cross for that” 

2

The Boy stood silent and shaking as he watched events unfold. Awed he watched as the peace of an ordinary, rather boring day had suddenly shattered and become terrifying. The boss soldier was arguing with his stepfather, his stepfather was a powerful man, respected in the community as much for his physical strength from years of manual labour as he was for his skill as a carpenter. To see his stepfather so intimidated made the Boy understand the danger they were in even if he did not really understand all that was happening. The Soldiers, huge brutish men, wanted his stepfather to build them something, a cross, he knew that was a bad thing, it was the sort of things adults would discuss in whispers and would think children could not hear, he also knew it was bad because his stepfather was desperate not to make it. 

“Please sir you cannot ask that of me, you cannot ask me to be responsible for the death of this man, i would have blood on my hands…”

The boss soldier was getting more and more angry, one of those really dangerous men who get more quiet when then are raging rather than full of bluster “he has been tried and convicted by my commanding officer and so by Rome and as such you have a duty to aid in the execution of justice… unless you too are a law breaker…” the threat hangs in the stifling air. 

The two men continued to argue, all the time the Boy noted that his stepfathers troubled eyes never left the prisoner, it was almost as if the Carpenter was really addressing the chained man not the grim Roman before him. The Boy noticed that the doomed man was never named, instead he was just described “Zealot” “traitor”, “brigand” “bandit” “murderer” each time the boss soldier referred to him the crime got worse as if to get the Carpenter onside through a sense of moral outrage. 

The Boy looked at the Prisoner.

The prisoner was a stocky, powerful looking man. It was hard to guess his age, his dark hairy skin was stretched over muscles, but sun and pain aged him. Filthy and sweaty, his limbs dark tanned from a life on the road and living in the hills a contrast to his naked chest pale from where his long worn clothes had be ripped to tattered ribbons around his waist, his curly beard unkept and his black hair matted hung over a high cheeked strong jawed face dried by the sun and lined with anguish. His skin was caked in dirt, and blood. The Prisoner hand chains about his wrists, ankles and neck which kept him stooped and weather from his arrest or later mistreatment he was covered in cuts and grazes, livid bruises were going slowly purple on his arms and face, his lips were swollen and bleeding. Red whip strips welted and bleed on his naked chest from where a whip that had ravaged his back had curled around. The Boy knew that prisoners were normally bad men who had done bad things and hurt people and yet the Boy felt pity for this man you stood cowed and bleeding, half naked and chained while the instrument of his terrible death were argued about, and he was forced to listen. The Boy could sense that this was a strong man, a proud man, and to now be captured and bound by his enemies as an agony more acute than his physical suffering. 

The man was a stranger, unusual in a small town, the son of a son of a son who had come from around these parts which is why after his capture he was doomed to die at the gates of Nazareth as an incentive for the provincials to keep the peace. He was exhausted although he admired the moral stand the Carpenter was making, he knew it was only delaying his crucifixion. The fucking Romans wanted him dead and wanted him to die in the most excruciatingly humiliating death possible. He had been a patriot all his life, his dreams of following the messiah in his victory over the romans was over now, it would end on a cross by the road in a nowhere town. Part of him was glad of this interlude as the Carpenter tried to avoid social infamy by constructing the gallows for a fellow Jew, glad he had time to rest, glad he did not have to suffer the agony of the nails right now, glad he still had time to dream of rescue and escape. Part of him wished to get it over with, he knew he was doom and wanted his wretched life ended before his nerve broke, before he became a coward and started to beg and plead to the hated invaders. Even as they had beaten and whipped him as he stumbled along the road in his chains, even as he cried out in pain he had not begged for mercy, the only thing he had left was to remain stoic, to show Roman and Jew alike that he will suffer bravely for his beliefs and maybe inspire others to take courage from him and join the fight. The Prisoner looked at the Boy staring at him in horrified fascination. The Prisoner gave the boy a smile through painful lips and winked.

The Boy felt a thrill of emotions as the chained, ragged, bleeding, nearly naked man, gave him a friendly acknowledgement. He felt partly ashamed that his silent scrutiny had been noticed, this was not just an object before him but a suffering man facing a terrible future. He also felt oddly pleased that this strong looking man, bound but still full of vitality had focused on him and had tried to be kind, had tried to do something to reassure the fearful child. The Boy forced a smile back letting the Prisoner know his effort were not wasted.

The debate between the Officer and the Carpenter was getting angrier and more desperate.

“Take my wood, take it for nothing, have my tools, have anything, just do not involve me or my family in this thing” pleads the Carpenter wiping the sweat from his face.

The Officer was tired now, why did these people have to complicate everything, why did everything have to be so irritating. The Carpenters offer was not unreasonable but the Roman was not feeling reasonable any more, it had become a challenge now, this cowardly scum was going to build the cross now or suffer the consequences, the Officer was not going to back down and its time this filth knew it.

“if you do not obey a direct order from your masters, if you deliberately obstruct Roman justice, if you side with the justly tried and convicted criminal I will have you arrested as a traitor and an accomplice, and you know what that will mean for you… and your family” the Carpenters eyes widen at the direct threat, he is a strong man but he starts to shake slightly from the stress.

The Prisoner smiles again at the Boy who has too started to weep from the anxiety and fear. “Sir” says the Prisoner in Hebrew, his deep voice muffled by split swollen lips and smashed teeth “you have done me the honour of not wanting my blood on your hands, I will not, in turn have your blood, or that of your fine son on mine”

“Shut it pig” snarls a soldier punching the Prisoner hard in the face causing him to stagger back and slump against the wall. his chains clanking. The Prisoner groans in pain, a fresh cut bleeding over his eye. He gasps air into his lungs for a few seconds, his naked torso raising and falling he lets the pain subside.

The Boy stares horrified at the sudden violence and gives a cry of anguish, the Prisoner feels a sudden wave of fury, how can these bastards distress children, worse threaten children like this? But he is determined to remain stoic and swallows his rage, being brave now is all he has, recovered slightly he goes on “They will crucify me anyway, no reason for you to suffer as well”

“I said quiet you fuck” snarls the Soldier giving the prone Prisoner a savage kick. The Prisoner grunts with pain.

 Sprawling on the sawdusted ground the Prisoner grunts “build my cross Carpenter, I forgive you, live to raise your boy” The Soldier kicks him again, hard, but the Prisoner has said all he has to, he has remained defiant and dignified and now he just has to keep his composure as he watches his cross being built.

The Carpenter gives the Prisoner a nod of relief and utter gratitude. “I will build a cross” he mutters

The Officer clenches his fists, he has got his way but not though his own intimidation, he glares at the Prisoner who smugly sneers back, “no matter” mutters the Officer “you will be nailed to your victory soon enough”

3

The Prisoner watches with haunted eyes as the Carpenter selects the wood that will become his cross, sawing it and wedging it. He tries to imagine himself trapped on it and feels sick, he sees the Carpenter looking in his direction at times, “measuring me up” he mutters resentfully. Seeing the reality of his cross take form gives the Prisoner a thrill of horror, he must be brave he tells himself, nothing else matters now. The Romans can do their worst to my body, but they won’t, must not break my spirit!

He see’s the Boy watching events. A child should not be seeing this, he thinks, then he thinks, no, he should see this, should see what fucking monsters the romans are, he has to learn what cunts the invaders are. He distracts himself from the constructing of the cross by looks at the i. His intelligent looking eyes are as round as plates, he is taking in all the details. Suddenly he sees the Boy pick up a jug and bring it over. It is full of water and before the soldiers focused on the cross maker can say anything the Boy holds it to his bloody lips, the Prisoner gulps it down, it is tepid but on this humid night it is the best thing the Prisoner has ever drunk. The Officer turns sharply his face flushes with anger then he seems to force it down “you should not aid the prisoner lad” he says in what he hopes sounds like a reasonable voice.

“he was thirsty” the boy says simply

“yes I do not doubt it” sighs the Officer “but he is a very bad man, a law breaker, he has hurt many people and done much harm, you should not be helping him”

The Prisoner continues to gulp down the water, sensing it will soon end he swallows as quickly as he can, water splashing down onto his dirty chest.

“Why?” asks the Boy taking the now empty jug away from the Prisoner who nods his thanks and tries to smile”

“People who help Rome’s enemies can be considered enemies of Rome themselves” explains the Officer, not unkindly. “He is an enemy of Rome and must be punished for that, you should not give mercy to those who are being given the just reward for their crimes, those that do should be punished” he says, looking at the Carpenter who looks back with worried eyes.

“Is it not stronger to show mercy to a defeated enemy?” asks the Boy

“No it is not!” snarls the Officer with sudden anger “Show weakness to the enemy and he can grow stronger and then defeat you instead. The Law brings peace, the lack of law brings suffering and those who break the law need to be made an example of so others can learn from their folly, those who aid law breakers in turn threaten the peace and should be punished child”

“The Boy did not mean anything…” stutters the Carpenter 

“Shut up and get on with your work” snarls the officer cutting him off “if you cannot keep your son disciplined then I will” the Officer makes a fist.

“The Boy was aiding Rome, not me” says the Prisoner moving his chained whipped body between the Officer and the Boy.

“What do you mean?” snarls the Officer intrigued despite his anger.

“You said law breakers must be made an example of so others can learn from their example, in fact are you not going to make me into such a deterrent?”

“You know we are! So what?”

“you are going to… crucify me” says the Prisoner in a hollow voice.

“yes, we are” sneers the Officer cruelly.

“Tell the Boy why you crucify men” the Prisoner looks at the Carpenter who has returned to his cross making now that his stepson is in no immediate danger and swallows hard.

“Slaves and the low born have to know that they must obey the law, so any criminal scum who has threatened the peace we take to a public place, we strip them naked and we nail them to a cross in a position of total powerlessness and humiliation so they can see the futility and shame of challenging the Empire” the Officer enjoys saying these words in front of the Prisoner, who struggles to maintain his composer.

“And just how does the cross scare the slaves and low born?” growls the Prisoner with utter contempt.

“Because its such a slow and agonizing death that even the scum and the plebs will realize its better to obey the law than risk joining the crucified in their horrific death” says the Officer warming to the subject.

“so it can be said that the longer the crucified man is alive and suffering the better it is for Rome as more people can see his torment and learn from his example?” says the Prisoner trying to remain detached despite knowing these horrors will soon be inflicted on him.

“that’s right” smiles the Officer “some can hang from the spikes for days in excruciating agony. Hung up to be ridiculed, tormented by the knowledge that they have been totally beaten by Rome”

“so giving them water instead of being a mercy actually keeps them alive for longer as a living example of Rome’s power. You see the Boy was not helping me, he was helping you, it would be unjust to punish him” says the Prisoner with a hint of triumph in his voice. He winks at the Boy.

The officer glares “very clever, you must try and think of some ingenious remarks as we drive the nails through your wrists”

“I cant guarantee that” says the Prisoner quietly, a hint of fear in his voice.

The workshop has gone quiet.

“it’s finished “says the Carpenter regretfully indicating the cross.

“so it is” shivers the Prisoner  

4

Using his chains the Prisoner was soon dragged to his feet.

He gives the boy a sad smile.

The Boy can see the terror behind his eyes.

“I will be brave” the Prisoner tells the Boy.

In his clanking chains the Prisoner hobbles over to the work bench where his cross waits, the soldiers jostle and shove him but he remains stoic. He comes face to face with the shame faced Carpenter.

“Thank you, god be with you” the Carpenter whisper. The Prisoner nods “I will be brave” he repeats it to himself. As the cross is lifted and placed on the Prisoners raw bare back The Boy joins his stepfather who puts a protective arm around him. The Prisoner despite his injuries is a strong man and he soon balances the cross, the soldiers admire his courage as he starts to advance towards the door to the workshop, towns folk wait outside with lit torches roused by all the recent noise.

The prisoner gives the Carpenter and his stepson a last look over his bloody shoulder before dragging the cross out of the workshop and into the streets beyond.

“I will be brave”

The soldiers leave and stepfather and stepson stand in silence.

5

The Boy could not sleep.

The oppressive humidity, events of the evening and sounds of activity in the distance kept him awake. His mind raced over the events of the day again and again, the Prisoners stoic masculinity in the face of terrible death, the Officers reasoning, his own closeness to misfortune at the hands of the Romans had events played out differently robbed him of sleep. He thought about that chain and wounded man, he wondered how he would face such horrors, was that what really disturbed him that night, the thought of having to endure those terrible tortures.

“I will be brave” thought the boy taking inspiration from the doomed Prisoner.

He had not been allowed to follow the crowd, not been allowed to see the Prisoners crucifixion, part of him was pleased, part of him wanted to know, needed to know. He has said this, he was told that there were crucifixions aplenty because of Rome, no need to see one until it can’t be avoided His family slept on the roof, desperate for any air the sticky night could provide. He waited until he was sure they had fallen into a sleep deep enough not to disturb them.

He dressed silently and stepped over the sleeping figures. He clambered down the walls and into the streets silencing a dog with a look. It was not hard to know where to go, the sounds of horrible activity had been echoing through the air all night keeping him awake, he just moved towards the sounds and knew he was going in the right direction as they got louder.

He imagined carrying a cross down these streets like the Prisoner had. He was nervous at being spotted and dragged home to angry parents “I will be brave” he kept to the shadows and was not spotted as he slipped through the streets. He remembered the Prisoners strength and cleverness, his courage in the face of his death, he felt guilty at wanting to see him crucified but his curiosity was too great, he had to know.

The Boy saw the flaming torches and heard the shouts and knew he had arrived as he reached the road that led from the town. “turn back” he told himself “you do not need to know yet, once you see this you cannot unsee it, you will know and you can’t forget... “he stood for a moment then said “I have to know, I will be brave”

So the Boy went to the crucifixion site.

The cross had been erected at the side of the road so all traffic in and out of the town will see Roman justice being literally executed. Flaming torches had been set up, encircling the cross so even late at night all could see the crucified prisoner displayed before them. 

The Boy gaped. The flickering torches giving all the detail to him in horrific flickering shifting waves.

The Prisoner hung on the cross.

Crucified.

The Prisoner was naked, they had ripped away his remaining tattered filthy rags and now displayed him completely naked, his circumcised cock bobbing as he writhed. The Boy was shocked to be completely naked in public was a massive humiliation for their people. He had never studied a naked man so closely before in his life he shuddered at the thought of being so degraded. The Prisoners legs and been positioned in a way that it was impossible for the crucified man to hide his shame. He saw the thick metal nails that had been pushed through wooden washers before being driven through his ankles and wrists, thick streams of blood leaked from these excruciating wounds, he could see that the Prisoner was in unbearable agony as his bulky body was affixed to the cross by the piercing spikes, metal grinding on shattered bone and severed nerves, arms stretched to breaking point, muscles looking knotted with cramps. The Prisoner jerked and twisted in a constant and futile attempt to ease his agonizing pain, sweat and blood dripping off him. Worse the Boy realized from the stench and dark stain on the wood that the Prisoner had defecated no doubt to the delighted mockery of the ghouls watching. The prisoner seemed to be having trouble breathing with his arms stretched out and so to gasp in lungful’s of air he hand to stretch his legs, standing on the nails that impaled his ankles to the cross, his face screwed up in abject misery as he tortured himself in an abysmal effort to breath, ribs moving under his filthy skin as he undulated and writhed in torment. A thick nail had been driven between his legs to act as a crude seat and stop him suffocating to quickly, his only support, but a rest that cut and crushed his balls, Rome slowly destroying him as a man.

Worse was the sounds, the Prisoners awful gurgling and groaning, the sounds of a man in appalling anguish. Worse were the words “ p p please take me down” “I cant s s s stand it” “I will do anything” “please, mercy I beg you” “p p p pity please, spare me” “god help me” “kill me, just kill me” “pleeeeeease get me down” “mamma mamma please” or just screamed and awful hopeless wail of desperation

The Boy listened to the desperate begging of the tortured man, he had so wanted to be brave but now in his torment he was completely broken and desperate to escape the cruelty inflicted on him.

The Boy was sad, the last thing the Prisoner had was his courage and even that had been taken from him.

The Boy stood a moment longer taking in the horror before fleeing into the night, back home.

Now he knew.

Now he knew of the reality of crucifixion, the terrible humiliating agony of crucifixion, now he knew, knew what had to be endured and he could never now forget.