The Death of Roccia

This story was inspired by the still frame above from "Spartacus and the Ten Gladiators" starring Dan Vadis.

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Roccia’s arm ached from the full weight of his body as he hung from the large tree in the center of the Roman camp. 

One end of the rope was lashed around a tree limb several times and the other tied tightly around Roccia’s wrist, suspending him six feet above the ground. The coarse cord had rubbed the skin on his wrist raw but Roccia hardly noticed the gnawing pain...his thoughts instead racing ahead to what he knew was to come. 

The groans of the other two gladiators dangling on either side of him drew Roccia’s attention back to the throbbing pain that radiated from his wrist, down his muscular arm, and settled in his shoulder.

Severely outnumbered and quickly overpowered by the Roman garrison, Roccia and the other gladiators were captured the night before while attempting to enter the camp. 

The Roman general ordered the gladiators’ public execution for the following day and had the condemned gladiators stripped of everything except the cloth tunics that wrapped around their waists. The half-naked gladiators were hung by their right arms from the large cypress in the center of the camp and their public and very brutal execution would serve as a warning to the scores of slaves held captive by the Romans. 

Roccia, knowing he and the others would soon feel the sting of the archers’ arrows, struggled unsuccessfully throughout the night to free himself.

The hours passed slowly and the dark of the night slowly yielded to the pale morning sun. Soon the punishing afternoon rays beat down mercilessly on the nearly naked gladiators as they awaited their fate. Their skin slowly baked to a golden brown. Roccia’s body was soaked with perspiration and his smooth muscular torso glistened in the mid-afternoon sun. Beads of moisture on his chest formed streams that rolled down Roccia’s large pectorals and weaved their way through the maze of muscles that covered his abdomen. An occasional breeze gently twisted his body and the others as they hung helplessly from the tree. Roccia felt the strength of his powerful body slowly fade.

The Roman archers that would be their executioners passed by the gladiators several times during the day, cruelly taunting their live targets each time they walked by. One of the archers was especially focused in Roccia and slowly scanned the full length of the gladiator’s impressively muscled body each time he passed. His gaze invariably fixed on Roccia's thickly muscled abdomen...

...and the archer seemed genuinely excited at the thought of sending one of his arrows tearing into Roccia’s rock hard bare belly.

When the slaves in the camp were gathered around the tree to witness the execution Roccia knew his death was near. The three archers that had passed several times during the day were now positioned ten feet in front of the gladiators with more Roman soldiers standing behind them. The archers readied their bows and searched their quivers for the sharpest arrows.

The Roman general briefly addressed the soldiers and slaves gathered around the tree and then called the archers to attention. The three archers raised their bows and took aim at the live targets that hung from the tree like ripe fruit ready to be picked.

“READYYYYY....” the general’s voice bellowed. “...SHOOT!”

Roccia squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He flexed his abdominals hard and waited with panicked anticipation for the arrows to strike. Roccia heard the arrows wiz through the thick humid air but felt nothing.

“Ahhhhh...Uuuhhh.” The sharp thud of two arrows piercing flesh was quickly followed by the howls of the gladiator hanging to Roccia’s left.

Roccia looked to his left and saw that the gladiator had been hit in the belly with both arrows. The third archer then launched his arrow and it severed the rope that held the gladiator suspended in the air and the gladiator fell to the ground. Roccia looked down as the mortally wounded gladiator grabbed the two arrows that were stuck deep in his gut, thrashing around violently on the ground. He was soon motionless.

“READYYYYY...” the general’s emotionless voice droned again. “...SHOOT!”

Once again Roccia closed his eyes and squeezed his abs tightly, waiting for the arrows to rip into his body. Roccia instinctively flinched at the sharp thud of the two arrows solidly hitting their target.

“Uuuuhhh!!!......Aaaaahhhhhhh!!!” The gladiator to Roccia’s right wailed widely.

Roccia’s eyes snapped open and he turned his head. Two arrows were stuck in the muscular torso of the gladiator hanging next to Roccia. One arrow had lodged deep in the gladiator’s belly and the other had hit him in the chest, piercing his heart and killing him instantly.

The gladiator’s limp body fell to the ground when the rope that tethered him to the tree limb was severed by a third arrow. Roccia looked down at the two dead gladiators below him...

 ...and then turned his attention to the archers as they afixed more arrows to their bows. 

The archer that was so fascinated by Roche's chiseled abdomen earlier in the day was the first to raise his bow...its arrow carefully aimed at Roche's fully exposed muscular belly. 

Roccia knew it was his turn to die and he prepared himself as best he could. 

When the general again called ready, Roccia closed his eyes and flexed every muscle in his upper body as hard as his waning strength allowed. Roccia trembled slightly while waiting for the general’s order to shoot.

But before the General could give the order there was a loud commotion at the front gate and the camp was suddenly flooded with rebel gladiators and slaves...Spartacus’ rag tag army of former gladiators and slaves. The archers that were about to launch their arrows at Roccia had turned their bows toward the attacking horde of rebels instead and were shooting arrows indiscriminately.

Roccia exhaled a sigh of relief and relaxed his body. 

Although he was no longer in immediate danger of being hit with arrows he was still dangling precariously from the tree with a bloody battle raging below him.

A rebel gladiator spotted Roccia hanging from the tree limb and raced towards him. The gladiator scaled the knotted trunk of the cypress and reached out to the limb that held Roccia. One sharp blow of the gladiator’s sword cut the rope that suspended Roccia in the air. 

Roccia fell to the ground and quickly untied the rope that was still bound to his wrist. Although half-naked and unarmed, Roccia was anxious to join the battle.

Roccia worked his right arm in a circular motion until blood slowly began to circulate again taking away the numbness in his huge bicep and shoulder. Roccia felt his strength slowly returning and he stretched and flexed his muscular torso a few times as he prepared to join the battle.

“ROCCIA...TAKE MY SWORD!” A gladiator ten feet to Roccia’s right shouted.

And when Roccia turned his head the gladiator tossed the sword high in the air towards Roccia.

Roccia reached out with his right arm, anxious to catch the sword when it reached him. His eyes followed the sword as it flew end over end through the air, the polished blade glinting rhythmically as it reflected the sun’s strong rays each time the sword somersaulted in the air. Roccia eagerly reached even further with his right arm when the sword was about to reach his hand. 

Roccia's naked muscular torso was fully extended when he snatched the sword out of the air with his fingertips, and a Roman soldier, who had been running toward Roccia, lunged forward with his sword arm cocked fully back and viciously thrust his sword into Roccia’s fully exposed belly, brutally stabbing the gladiator, and driving half the blade deep into Roccia’s gut.

“Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!” The crisp sound of the soldier’s blade slicing into the flesh and muscle of Roccia’s torso was quickly followed by Roccia’s raucous roar.

The Roman's powerful sword thrust pushed Roccia back a few steps. Roccia’s fully flexed upper body snapped forward when he was stabbed and the sword he had just snatched out of the air fell out of his hand and to the ground.

Roccia’s attention was so fixed on the sword that was thrown to him that he didn’t see the Roman soldier running at him. The soldier's brutal sword thrust to Roccia's gut caught him totally off guard. 

Roccia’s head snapped forward and he looked into the face of the soldier who stabbed him and realized it was the very archer who was so intrigued with Roccia earlier in the day. The archer had shed his bow and was now wielding a sword. The archer, who was so intent on having one of his arrows pierce Roccia’s gut, was no less content with his blade run through the gladiator's muscular belly. 

The archer jabbed his left hand into Roccia’s chest then ripped his blade out of Roccia’s belly just as viciously as he had stabbed him.

“Uuuhhh,” Roccia took a step forward and groaned when the blade was pulled out of his gut and he covered the stab wound with both hands, blood spurted between his fingers.

The archer then lurched forward and violently pushed Roccia back against the trunk of the cypress behind him, the same tree that had held the gladiator suspended above the ground. Roccia’s heavily muscled body slammed back against the large tree with a dull thud...the coarse tree trunk dug into his bare back. Roccia was sprawled against the tree trunk with his shoulders pulled back and his arms thrown out to his sides. He was dazed, and his naked muscular torso was fully exposed and vulnerable to the soldier standing in front of him wielding a sword.

The archer pulled back his arm, stepped forward, and furiously rammed his sword into Roccia’s wide open rock-hard belly again with all his strength. The archer’s blade tore through Roccia’s muscular torso and pierced the tree bark behind him, running him through.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!" Roccia’s head snapped back against the tree trunk and he let out a long, agonizing yell as the blade cut crisply into his upper abs and was driven completely through his densely muscled torso.

The archer held Roccia pinned against the tree for a few moments with his sword run through the gladiator’s gut and dug into the tree bark. Then, with his hand planted firmly on the center of Roccia’s chest, the archer ripped his sword out of Roccia’s belly and stepped back.

“Uuuuuuhhhhh!” Roccia groaned again as the sword was violently pulled out of him.

Roccia staggered forward and struggled to stay on his feet. He arched his back and flexed every muscle in his upper body hard as he tried to endure the blistering pain of the two stab wounds in his gut.

The archer, who's bloodlust was not quite satisfied with the two brutal sword thrusts to Roccia’s belly, then drew back his sword and was about to stab Roccia again when an arrow suddenly whizzed by his ear from behind him and slammed into Roccia’s chest hitting him just below his left pectoral.

“UUUHHH!!!” Roccia grunted and his body recoiled as the arrow ripped into his chest...he instinctively grabbed his left pectoral with his right hand...the wooden shaft of the arrow sticking through his fingers.

The archer looked behind him and saw the Roman general that was barking orders before now holding a bow.

“Now the execution is done,” the general said coldly.

Roccia fell to his knees and then onto his side clutching the arrow in his chest with both hands. Roccia then rolled onto his back and his arms fell to his sides...his massive chest rose and fell one last time. Roccia was dead.

The general stood over Roccia’s body and grinned. He was pleased with the kill.