Instinctively Maciste twitched when something metal folded around his bare ankle. He resisted kicking out. But he felt a cold shudder at a grating sound. Metal grating against metal. As cold metal encased his leg. The same eerie metallic sound of a slave collar encasing a neck.
Other hands were working on his other leg. Pinned down on his back, face up at a cloudless sky, seeing the sergeant grim-faced holding sword to Maciste’s throat. Stopping him from looking up at the clatter of heavy metal, the rattle of strong chains.
A hammering began. At the end of his legs, the sound told its own tale. Stakes were being pounded into the earth. He was being secured by chains and manacles to his ankles, pinned his back to this burning rock.
Hands were clutching at him arms .. pulled them over his head. Maciste resisted, the burning to his back insisted he fight them back. Grips tightened, holding him down, stretching him over the stone. Keeping him there .. stretched .. goat-meat grilled over the heat.
Disciplined for his insolence. Punished for standing up for himself. Kept secure for the emperor. Already the sweat was beginning to run. Trickling down his sides. Pooling on his chest. Helplessly stretched out over a hot grill-stone.