Hail, Pulcherima!
by John Barker, IV



Copyright: John Barker, IV

2005

Gladiatrix Pulcherima makes her first appearance in the Roman games

Caesar was bored.

The games so far had been mundane at best. The lions devoured Christians as
usual. There had been little excitement and nothing new in that. He was
thinking of having this event made private, as there was never any fight in
any of these Christians.

The chariot race had been won, without any broken bodies or spectacular
crashes, by the team favored to win from the beginning by more than a stadia.

The gladiatorial contests had been less than thrilling. The combatants seemed
intent on avoiding coming to serious blows, and danced around each other
trying to avoid conflict. They were almost as bad as the Christians.

In his tedium, even though he knew the crowd did not like to see him doing it,
he was reading official correspondence from several governors of eastern
provinces, and might even write a few replies.

The games honored his grandfather, an old buzzard he had scarcely known, so
that there was little emotional intensity for him today.

The empress sat beside him, equally indifferent, but looking good. Perhaps he
would spend some time with her tonight. His mistress, sitting discreetly
several boxes away, had grown as tedious to him as these games. Always the
same. Excellent, of course, as Caesar had superb taste in women, but the same,
and not all that different from the other noblewomen and slaves who had spent
time pleasuring him.

"Caesar, the Libyan is down." That was Severus, his freedman who he entrusted
with the day-to-day running of his military department, an excellent intellect
and discrete as a summer day is long.

"So he is, damn him."

Caesar stood up. The Libyan was splayed on the ground, and the Briton had a
sword at his throat. Caesar extended his hand, waited 8 seconds so that the
sense of suspense could build, and then gave the "Thumbs Down."

"That bastard will lose me no more money."

The crowd cheered the death, but without much zeal, and Caesar watched the
execution performed with ritualistic skill. A clean kill.

"What is next, Severus, and do you have the report from the Eastern Army on
the Parthian situation?"

"I have it with me among my papers, Caesar. I shall endeavor to find it. The
next event promises to be interesting, Caesar. Perhaps the best of the day."

"It would not take much to be the best of this program."

"Indeed, but this may be something extraordinary. It features a German
barbarian woman against two gladiators with short swords."

"One woman? Something special about her?"

"She is very large, strong, skilled, and fierce. No one in Rome can pronounce
her barbaric name, but she is being called Pulcherima. This is her first
appearance in the Roman arena."

"She fit the name, or is it intended as irony?"

"She fits it, and much more," Severus replied somewhat wistfully.

"A shame, then. Two gladiators will cut her to ribbons no matter how big and
strong she is."

"Perhaps not, Caesar."

The trumpets sounded indicating that the arena was now clear and that it was
time for the next combat.

"Who is she up against?"

"Alexandros and Urganisimus."

"Be over before it starts."

"They have the swords, but no armor. She fights barehanded and lightly clad."

"Really? Who comes up with these preposterous scenarios? Fighting barehanded
might do against two other German milkmaids, but not against two of the most
skilled swordsmen in Rome. She'll be minced meat before the echo of the
trumpet dies."

"I am not betting that way Caesar, nor would I advise you to," Severus added
quietly.

Caesar looked at Severus out of the corner of his eye, and was about to say
something, when the trumpet sounded again summoning the next combatants to the
center of the arena.

Caesar looked to the left, and saw the very familiar forms of Alexandros, a
Thracian who stood about 6 feet tall,was about 26 years of age, and had won
over 40 sword fights in the arena in the last 3 years, and Urganisimus the
Gaul, 6'1" age 25, who had won 35 or so in the same time.

Both had won the acclaim of the crowd, which now cheered them with something
like enthusiasm, for old times' sake if for nothing else.

There was, at first, no movement from Caesar's right. Then, just as the cheers
for the two experienced gladiators died away, Caesar saw a woman, about 6'2",
perhaps 23 years of age, with long wavy raven hair, piercing blue eyes, and a
lovely face, only slightly browned by the sun.

He gulped as he took in the sight. She was clad in a light blue gauze garment
that barely cleared her the top of her thighs. Her breasts swelled out to
enormous proportions and swayed as she walked (as did her wide hips) with
promising ripe fullness. They must have measured 44 inches (and the hips
almost as much, though the waist between coul dnot have been more than 26
inches). The legs that carried her were of elegant proportions, but evidently
very muscular. The muscles of her thighs rippled with pure power as she
walked.

But her arms were truly amazing. Never before had the Emperor seen a woman
with such muscular arms. Though they were unflexed, the biceps appeared truly
impressive and must be a foot and a half around (actually a half inch larger
than that).

She moved with easy grace that said this was a woman to be reckoned with, one
who was confident and intelligent. And one who feared nothing. A panther or
lioness walking on two legs. And oh so beautiful!

"Venus in person, or the offspring of the coupling of Venus and Hercules!
Zeus, to be able to play with that!"

"Hail, Caesar! We who are about to die salute you!"

Caesar reluctantly broke out of his daze, and with eagerness gave the signal
to commence.

Alexandros and Urganisimus had apparently concerted their plans and decided to
treat this unarmed Amazon like a dangerous opponent. They divided rapidly, and
moved widely to either side of her. They would take no chances, but catch her
in a flanking movement, so that she would have to turn her attention to one or
the other. And while she was engaged with one, the other would strike from
behind.

After they had flanked out widely enough, they began to converge.

But Pulcherima ran at Urganisimus, closing the distance between them with
surprising speed for so large a woman.

Urganisimus had his sword at the ready, but thought the Amazon would close on
him and try to grapple with him. He was unprepared for what she next did.

Pulcherima, instead of closing to grapple, leapt feet-first at him from 8 feet
away, and caught him full in the chest, bowling him over.

He could not bring his sword into play in time, and the wind was knocked out
of him. The raven-haired amazon snatched the sword from his dazed hand, and
gave him a hard kick in the head which knocked him out. She then turned,
sword-in-hand on an almost equally stunned Alexandros, who had just begun to
try to close in on her.

The crowd was wild with the surprise of the thing.

And so was Caesar.

Alexandros remembered that he still had a sword in his hand, and that he knew
how to use it. He readied for a clash of steel with the tall German
gladiatrix.

As he expected, steel met steel at the normal distance. He tried to slash. She
parried. He tried to thrust. She blocked, giving him a powerful elbow in the
chest as she broke away.

Pulcherima was giving Alexandros' skill with the sword respect. She took no
chances. She tried hard to not leave herself open. She was surprised, though,
at the ease with which she was able to deflect his every effort.

Alexandros broke upon her with a flurry of blows with the edge of the sword.
Pulcherima blocked each one. And every time, Alexandros marveled that the arm
holding his opponent's sword did not budge, but seemed to be made of granite.

Alexandros thought he saw an opening and slashed low at the barbarian amazon's
thighs. Pulcherima danced back in time, so that the sword only ripped the hem
of her brief skirt.

Alexandros was quick to recover, and brought his sword up to parry
Pulcherima's first effort at a slash. But the attack was a powerful one, and
he just barely fended it off.

The two swords now were trading blows in a duel at close quarters. Close
quarters were a tremendous advantage for the mighty German woman. Then she
could bring her strength and wrestling skill into play, offsetting the
Thracian's advantage in skillful sword-handling.

The blows were being traded at such close quarters, that Pulcherima managed to
get the guards of the two blades locked together. Whenever Alexandros tried to
extract his blade, she was able to prevent it. With her free hand, she managed
to grab his torso, and pull him in closer.

Slowly, overcoming his every effort to prevent it, she began to bring the
locked blades back in Alexandros' direction. Holding him tight, she planned to
impale him on the two blades, his own first, as it would be the first to
puncture his skin.

Inch by inch, she brought the blades closer to him despite his every effort to
prevent it. There seemed to be nothing he could do to prevent being skewered
through the chest by his own blade.

In terror, his adrenalin pumping, Alexandros made one final effort to push the
blades back, but resisting the strength of the German woman was like trying to
lift a boulder. He could make no impression.

Finally, in desperation, with the point of his blade touching his skin, he
tried to prolong his life a little more by the only way he could think of.

He dropped his sword.

Now only the German amazon was armed. He was gripping her amazingly powerful
arm, trying to avert the inevitable.

Then Pulcherima did something that astonished Alexandros, the crowd, and
Caesar.

She dropped her own sword. Deliberately.

The crowd was silent.

Alexandros hardly knew what to do, but the Amazon solved his quandry for him.
She closed with him anew.

Unarmed, Alexandros was much less confident than he was with a sword in his
hand. Now that he had tasted the power of Pulcherima's bulging arms, he was
even less confident.

Their hands were locked in a clench for a time, as both tried to power back
the other's arms. But Pulcherima began to make steady, if slow progress,
pushing Alexandros' arms behind his back, inch by inch.

The crowd had expected a sword fight, not a wrestling match, and did not know
what to make of it.

Caesar's heart was pounding with the excitement of it.

When Pulcherima had, after a minute's effort, forced Alexandros' arms behind
his back, she did something no one in the Colosseum expected. She gathered her
strength, and then suddenly pulled Alexandros' arms out straight. She had a 2+
inch reach advantage over Alexandros, and with all her might, she yanked his
arms straight out. Both of his shoulders painfully dislocated, almost
together, with a pair of "pops" she could hear.

Alexandros was screaming with pain as she released his arms, which could do
nothing more than dangle helplessly at his sides.

"Why are his arms dangling like that?"

"I think she has dislocated both his shoulders, Casear."

Caesar was glad of his toga, as his member became fully erect.

In an instant, Pulcherima thrust her hands inside Alexandros' arms, wrapped
her strong arms around his torso, and locked her hands at the back,
interlacing the fingers of one hand with those of the other. She heaved him
into the air, close to her and over her head. She put her head down, and got
down to her serious work.

The vice-like grip of her massively sinuous arms tightened, then tightened
again. She had a firm bearhug grip on him. The incredible muscles of her arms
flexed and coiled as wave after wave of almost inhuman strength coursed from
her shoulders through her huge biceps to her bulging forearms to her mighty
hands.

The crowd was cheering wildly and Caesar with them.

Alexandros was resisting by every means he could think of. His arms, painfully
and suddenly useless, were unavailable to aid him. He tried, again and again,
to head-butt her, but she was holding him over her own head, with her head
down. All he could slam his head into was the top and back of her head, and
that seemed to be having no effect.

The pressure exerted by her muscular arms only increased the more.

He tried desperately to wriggle out of the crushing hug, but she held him
steady enough for her purpose.

Still, relentlessly, the mighty arms of the barbarian woman squeezed.

He tried, again and again, to kick her, but his kicks were of no avail. For
one thing, kicking her was like kicking solid oak, or so it seemed. For
another, she was holding him a foot off the ground. He could get no momentum
in his kicks.

Yet still more power coiled and flowed through the bulging arms of the German
gladiatrix.

He tried to bring his knee up to her groin. But her thighs were closed tight,
like two tree trunks side-by-side. He could not do any damage.

The incredible power of Pulcherima's arms crushed and constricted his ribs
more and more.

He tried also, by heaving his body backwards and forwards, to throw her
off-balance, hoping that she might loosen her constricting grip as she fell.
But her feet were planted as if they were the bases of pillars set in solid
mortar.

Wave after wave of power coursed through the barbarian amazon's arms as her
grip tightened more and more, so that Alexandros' chest felt like it would
implode.

The noise of the crowd changed to a slight murmer, and Pulcherima shot a quick
glance to the side at Urganisimus. She could see that he was still prone, but
that he was shaking his head, apparently regaining consciousness.

With a grunt, Pulcherima poured yet more strength into her bearhug, in an
effort to finish Alexandros before Urganisimus could rejoin the fray. The
muscles of her shoulders, biceps, forearms, and hands all rippled with fresh
effort, as she tapped additional sources of strength, brought more muscles
into play.

Five seconds of sustained effort, and there was a "Crack." She sustained the
effort and poured on yet more power. That sound was followed three seconds
later by "Snap," and then another "Crack".

Alexandros was out of his mind, frantic with the pain of his ribs breaking in
the hold of the beautiful but inhumanly strong woman. His body, despite the
pain, tried desperately to break free, using all the methods he had been
trying, but with renewed adrenalin-inspired urgency.

But it was to no avail. The arms of the huge German woman just tightened bit
by bit, more and more, without relenting in the least.

Another, louder, murmer from the crowd. Another quick glance at Urganisimus.
He was getting to his feet.

Now Pulcherima abandoned her original plan for dealing with Alexandros. She
had intended to suffocate him in her bearhug until he lost consciousness, then
only continue to crush the life out of him if Caesar so willed.

But she had only now begun to exert serious pressure on his diaphram and she
could not afford to have Urganisimus plant his sword in her back while she
continued to struggle with Alexandros (actually, it was not much of a struggle
anymore, she had contained his best efforts, and his struggles had been
noticeably weakening as her mighty arms squeezed him tighter and tighter).

Now she had to finish him off or be killed.

She slightly changed the grip of her hands. She unlaced her fingers, made a
fist with her left hand, and gripped it in her right hand.

And then, with all her prodigious might, she yanked inward, her right hand
pushng the left fist inward with tremendous force against the middle of
Alexandros' spine..

"Cccrrraaaacccckkkkk!!!!" could be heard throughout the almost-silent arena.

All resistance ended, as Alexandros' body went limp in Pulcherima's arms. In
mercy, she would have liked to squeeze longer to be sure that she had not left
Alexandros alive but crippled, but she needed to address a new threat.

She released her left arm, relaxed the right, bent at the knees, picked up
Alexandros' behind the upper thighs, and lifted him to a cradle position in
front of her, and wheeled on Urganisimus.

Her other opponent had tottered over to his sword, which the grappling pair
had left a few yards away. He had bent over unsteadily, and picked it up. The
sound of Alexandros' spine breaking had whirled him around.

Now, only twelve feet apart, Urganisimus, sword in hand, faced Pulcherima,
cradling the body of Alexandros in front of her.

Advantage Urganisimus?

That was what the crowd thought, as well as Caesar. "Why doesn't she drop
him?" was on every pair of lips in the stadium.

Then all found out why.

With a sudden effort, in one fluid motion, she raised Alexandros over her head
to the full extent of her arms, all 225 pounds of him, and hurled him at the
torso of Urganisimus.

Her aim was true, Urganisimus was too slow to evade, and the corpse (for
Pulcherima's fear was not justified, she had in fact made a clean kill of the
Thracian) hit him straight on, knocking him over and pinning him under its
dead weight.

The crowd broke into wild cheering at this unexpected feat. Never had anyone
seen a woman lift the body of a large man over her head and hurl it twelve
feet to take down another man.

Pulcherima was in motion towards Urganisimus even before Alexandros' body hit
him. Like a mother taking a dangerous toy out of the hands of a child, she
grabbed the sword and yanked it from him in an instant. Then she tossed it
aside with contempt.

In another instant, the mighty German amazon tossed aside the body of
Alexandros, dropped with all her weight, knees first, on the chest of
Urganisimus, then planted a knee on each of his shoulders. Quickly, but
ominously, she wrapped her powerful hands around his neck, her thumbs pressing
into his throat.

Urganisimus regained his senses now, and tried to pry her hands off his neck
and throat, but he might as well have tried to rip a branch from a mature
tree, or rip an arm off a marble statue. Kicking at Pulcherima had no effect.
His body bucked and wriggled, but nothing broke the grip of the German
gladiatrix, or even came close to knocking her over. From dazed and confused,
Uganisimus was now thoroughly frightened.

Pulcherima squeezed, her powerful thumbs sinking into the windpipe while her
hands crushed in tighter and tighter on the neck of her opponent. She could
see that there was fear in his eyes. A few more seconds of pressure, and she
knew she had Urganisimus' life in her hands. To kill or not to kill was
Caesar's call, not hers.

She stopped increasing the pressure, but held firmly to what she had, and
looked up at Caesar's box.

"She seems to have him under control, Caesar."

"Is Alexandros dead or alive?"

"I think he is dead, as he hasn't moved, but even if he isn't, with a broken
back he won't be getting up again."

Caesar was stunned at the rapid turn of events. But there was a deep
excitement in his heart and loins, too. She waited for his signal looking up
at him. He held her gaze, drinking in the image of a woman so beautiful and so
strong.

He knew what signal he wanted to give. The crowd wanted to see a kill, and so
did Caesar.

He held out his arm, thankful that the crowd could not hear the pounding of
his heart, feel the sweat on his palms, or see his erection.

Five seconds he gazed at the face of the gorgeous, yet dangerous, amazon
before him. Ten.

Then the thumbs down. Death.

Pulcherima looked down at Urganisimus, shrugged and mouthed a quick apology in
Germanic. She quickly changed the grip of her hands, grasping the top of his
neck in one hand and the bottom in the other.

With a quick sudden twist, she jerked her hands in opposite directions,
snapping his neck in a heartbeat with a loud, thoroughly audible
"Sssnnaaappp!!!"

Urganisimus' renewed efforts at bucking, kicking, and trying to pry the mighty
hands from his throat came to a sudden end, as he went limp in her hands. She
had been merciful. If she had strangled him as she had intended it would have
taken another two minutes of agony for Urganisimus to die. She held her grip a
few seconds longer to be sure that the pulse stopped. It did, and she let the
corpse fall back to the ground.

"Zeus! She's broken his neck! Wrung it like a chicken's! And broken
Alexandros' back. Two of the best gladiators in Rome! Their bodies broken as
if they were choice pieces of poultry! And in a woman's bare hands! Zeus, she
is the result of the coupling of Hercules and Venus!"

This outburst was to Severus, who was only slightly less amazed. Then Caesar
remembered that an Emperor was always an actor on the public stage, recovered
his composure, and beckoned the victor to approach the box.

The crowd quieted again to hear.

"Rome's games have a new face, that of their true queen. Clearly the result of
the coupling of Hercules and Venus, Pulcherima of the German tribes. The
voices of the people and the gods have spoken clearly. No reward had been
offered the victor of this match beyond continued life and the standard pay of
a gladiator. But I will give this victor ten talents of gold. Pulcherima, you
are now the imperial champion, and have justly earned this title.

Hail, champion!"

The crowd was ecstatic, approving Caesar's wise act of benignity.

"Hail, Pulcherima! Hail, Champion! Hail, Caesar!"

Quietly, "Severus, have her brought to my private apartment in three hours'
time." Caesar hoped that a new imperial mistress had been born, as well as a
new imperial champion.