Chapter 33
The Crowd Howls for Blood
Glancing at the kasthima, Pons saw the imperial party were applauding. Once they were finished, the nose-less man in black was ushered forward and spoke in close conference with the Emperor. While they spoke the next execution was prepared on the track.
Another man, this one permitted the final dignity of a loin cloth, was led forward as his name and charges were read by the cryer. Cyn’s Greek was not sufficient for him to piece together if the man was a traitor or simply a criminal. Six handlers came forward each with a ferocious snarling dog pulling on a leash and surrounded the condemned man. The cryer shouted “Treacherous dog, be food for the dogs you lie with.” or word to that effect, and the dogs were released.
The dogs should have raced forward and ripped the man to shreds. That was why their owners had been hired by the master of the games. That is what they had been starved to do. This was, however, their first time visiting the Hippodrome and the noise of the crowd, the smell of horses, and most especially the smell of roasting man were putting them off task. Growling, they circled their quarry, snapping at the air. The handlers motioned towards the condemned and whistled. One bitch squatted and pissed on the track. Another one, a male, raised his hind leg and did the same on the statue of a hero on the spina. The crowd howled. Spearmen came on to the track to prod the dogs towards the prisoner. Hair bristled on their backs as they snarled.
Stolen story; please report.
“Blood.” said Cyn. “They need to smell fresh blood. Then they will attack.”
“Aima.” Nestor called. The crowd took up the chant.
* * *
Andronikos gave Stephen leave to depart and make his preparations. As he turned back to the railing the crowd was beginning to chant for blood. Fear instantly seized him. It was over. They were howling for his blood. His face became ashen. For a moment he stumbled. His concubine came to him and took his hand.
“Dear one, are you well?” she asked.
The chanting from the crowd continued. AIMA. AIMA. The officials in the kasthima were not concerned by this, so Andronikos stepped to the railing to see for himself the mess the execution had become. “I was speaking at the back. What has been happening here?”
“The dogs won’t attack. The people think they would if they smelled fresh blood.”
“They are probably correct.”
Over the noise of the mob Andronikos bellowed to a guardsman to hamstring the prisoner. The guard threw his javelin and neatly pierced the condemned man’s calf below the knee. To the delight of the crowd the scent of fresh blood did the trick as the dogs moved in to finish off their immobilized prey. Once the man’s screams and twitchings ended the pack was allowed to feed for a moment before being prodded off the track for the starting of the final race.