The crowd continued to grow as they walked, until finally becoming one giant, heaving organism. No individual faces now, but a mass mind that swarmed around him and his escort. A rock struck the side of his head and glanced off to hit the shoulder of the escort commander. The commander put an immediate end to the rock- throwingwhen he himself was hit. He bellowed out that all were to keep their distance. If anyone threw anything they would find their own heads on the road. This was, he said, by the command of the Great King. The torment eased; the only things being thrown at him now were invectives and curses.
The day was warming up as the sun rose. It was going to be a beautiful day, a fine day for any kind of celebration.
Casca didn't know it, but he was not to be alone in his suffering this day. Before he'd been summoned to the court, riders had gone forth across the Empire, carrying with them Shapur's written command. All that had served too closely with the Roman, or were suspected of loyalty to him, were to be put to the sword. This also had provided Rasheed the opportunity to include a few names of his enemies. Although he knew that they had never had any dealings with Casca, the opportunity to eliminate them was too good to pass up.
As for the Roman's woman, she was of no importance and would merely be driven from their domain back to her own savage lands in Armenia. Shapur also used the event to rid himself of those he thought might prove troublesome in the future. It was a perfect pretext. For the people would have no sympathy for treason or those that followed the ways of Ahriman. But, Shapur would have to admit, he had been stunned when Rasheed had made the cut on Casca's chest. The Roman was surely aligned with the spirits of the world. How else could he have healed the wound before their eyes, unless through sorcery? Rasheed, Shapur thought. That sly one. He had found out the Roman's secretand had been correct in his suspicions. Shapur was more than relieved that Casca had proved to be evil. It made all his decisions and actions proper and just.
Shapur and his court arrived at the site of the upcoming execution in advance of Casca. There, they took their ease beneath covered awnings and waited for the escort to appear with the condemned prisoner.
They had arrived! The place of death! Casca stumbled to his knees and was jerked back up by a strong, determined tug at his leash, strangling him for a moment. They pushed and prodded him to the center of the square. Everyone in the city had come to witness his punishment. The crowd was being held back by a line of soldiers, their spears held horizontally in front of them, forming a human barrier. Thirty thousand pairs of eyes watched his every move. Many of them were making signs to ward off the evil he carried with him. Some were touching lucky charms or talismans.
They stopped. The chains on him were growing hot from the rays of the now midday sun, beating down on him relentlessly. Sweat ran freely from him to drop on the ground. His mouth was dry, as if it had been stuffed with cotton. He winced as he saw the stake directly before him. It sat atop a newly constructed platform, six or seven feet above the ground. The instrument of his death! But, he thought, would it be his death? Perhaps even the curse on me cannot withstand being turned into ashes and scattered to the winds. Surely, not even the power of The Jew, Jesus, can reconstruct my body after such a thing is done. If that is the case, then maybe it will be worth it. Perhaps now I can stop my wanderings.
Shapur rose from his chair beneath the purple awning and spoke. Silence settled immediately over the crowd. As the King spoke, Casca could see that slaves were already beginning to pile bundles of dried wood around the base of the stake, shivering in spite of the heat of the day. Shapur's voice rose over the square as the audience hushed.
'Citizens of Persia, hear me. You have gathered here this day to witness justice being done to one who has been a traitor to me. One who has returned the honor and favor I have shown him by spreading the seeds of dissension and sedition. His perfidy and treason have been proven, as well as his worship of. the darkforces of Ahriman as witnessed by your priests and holy men. He is the tool of Rome and the minions of darkness, sent to destroy all that we have labored to build and to allow the powers of the dark to come into our lands again.' Shapur was excited and really getting into his stride now.
'And now, my people, his punishment has been set. The only way to destroy true evil is by the purification of fire. The light of the sun is pure and evil shrinks from its radiance. Now, we shall burn the evil from this traitor in our midst. This is my word, this is my law, and so it shall be!'
Casca was dragged without further ceremony to the steps leading up to the burning stake of green wood. The chains on his wrists were used to suspend his body from a spike set in the timber above his head. His arms were stretched out until it felt as if they would be pulled from their sockets at the shoulder. Only his toes reached the stones of theplatform. The chains around his ankles were secured to the post to prevent him from kicking away any of the burning faggots when they were lit.
Rasheed asked for permission to speak to Casca before the flames were lit. Reluctantly, it was granted by Shapur. When he reached Casca's side, slaves were already soaking the bundles of dried wood with oil. Priests were walking the perimeter of the compound, waving incense braziers and chanting to drive away any evil that was still present.
Rasheed stepped close to Casca's face, looking straight into his eyes. So that the slaves could not understand, he spoke in Latin.
'Greetings, spawn of Baal. The blessings of the Brotherhood be with you this day. Surely and finally, you are about to receive just punishment for your sins against The Living God. I wanted you to know who it is who's responsible for the agony you are about to experience here at the stake. I only wish that it could last for many days.' Hatred dripped from his words; his eyes narrowed and his face flushed with passion.
'Even this, as compared to what you did to our Lamb, is not adequate punishment, but it was the best I could do on such short notice. I leave you now to your fate.' He came closer to Casca's face and spat in it.
'Burn, heretic. Burn!'
The faggots were lit by a slave as Rasheed descended, and the first tendrils of dark oily smoke began to rise from the wood at his feet.
Rasheed returned to his seat beside Shapur, whispering in the King's ear:
'I tried to give him a chance to confess his sinsand to ask for mercy ofAhura-mazda. But, Lord, he refused it and mocked you and our God. He said that the darkness would come and that he rejoiced in the evil he had done. He said his one regret was that he'd never had the opportunity to kill you.'
Shapur's face turned beet red with anger as he spoke through clenched lips. 'Then it is well that the heretic perishes in this manner.'
The first tongues of flame licked at Casca's feet and legs, singeing the hairs. He bit back a yelp of pain at the touch of them. This was the beginning. He knew now that the pain would grow in earnest as the fire grew in size.
The flames reached up, licking at him, touching, caressing, then searing. Smoke rose in columns to swirl around the writhing figure tied to the post. He screamed as the fires ate through the surface layer of the skin of his legs and charred the raw tender meat beneath. The pain grew by degrees of agony until he thought he would lose his mind before the fires claimed him entirely.
A long tongue of oily fire slid up the side of his chest to his face and Casca felt the hair on his head ignite. He beat his head against the post, trying desperately to knock himself unconscious, anything to escape the hungry flames that danced around his body. The fire twisted with his every turn, eating away at his flesh, turning it into charred, black, smoking tissue and exposing raw nerve endings to the flames.
He recalled others he had seen burned and it came to him suddenly: there was a way to escape, not from the stake itself, but from the pain. He opened his mouth, pausing a bit for the screamingto stop, and inhaled deeply, sucking the smoke and fire into his lungs. The heat, reaching inside to the tender tissue of the lungs, caused great blisters to rise, then burst, with the immense heat. The smoke took the place of needed oxygen and mercifully, he passed out. No more feeling the pain of the hungry, consuming flames. Though his body continued to twist and jerk, it was only the nervous reaction of nerves and muscles being blistered and charred. Casca felt none of it.
He was out now, and unaware of the small man who had thrown himself on the platform and started kicking and throwing off the bundles of burning wood with his bare hands, ignoring the blistering of the skin.
Imhept was almost speared in the back by one of the Immortals, but the soldier's action was stopped by Shapur's upraised hand. The king called out, 'Egyptian, why do you interfere with my justice?'
Imhept stopped his efforts for a moment and raised his own smoking hands to Shapur.
'King of Kings, you once said that I could ask a boon of you and that if it was in your power, you would grant it. I ask now for the body of this man.'
