"Strange—passing strange! How then if there is no articulata implementa, could there be Roman property? And who would pay for the circus?"
"I know not. But the arm of Caesar will see that no chance is given this wild teaching of liberty. Not since Sparticus lifted the sword to get freedom for his kind has the head of our Caesar rested on an easy pillow. Revolt and insurrection rumble in the hearts of the slave and the poor rabble, as still fire smolders in the heart of Vesuvius. Like a brand in a dry corn field will this revolt grow into insurrection unless it is put down. The arm of Rome is sufficient—but see! The mob parts! They are coming from the scourge with him who is to be crucified. The death warrant hath been already written."
"Dost write death warrants for all crucified ones?"
"Nay, no more than for flies or vermin, else the earth would be running over with warrants. But a stirrer up of sedition, this is the one crime that Rome doth not forgive. Look! Yonder he comes! Lo, he weareth a gaudy robe. His face is pale from loss of blood. Look you! It drips from under the gaudy robe and follows his feet in plotches which stain the mosaic. The thongs must have cut deep. Ha! ha! He weareth a crown—a crown for a King—a crown of prickly thorns. It hath left its mark on his forehead, and across one cheek there lieth a purple stripe!"
"Listen—they are calling 'Staurosate! Staurosate!' Like demons do they yell as he is being led before Pilate."
"Canst see?"
"Yea. Pilate doth have him mount the steps so that the mob may see him. Look you; what manner of man is he, who moveth like a conqueror among those shouting his praises? There is majesty in the tread of the feet that leave a trail of blood! And look! Across his breast doth he fold his arms; he lifteth his head; he looketh out over the multitude as Julius Caesar might look upon a handful of chained slaves who had breathed against his power invincible. Why hath this Galilean this majestic presence? See thou—it doth impress the mob until their tongues stop wagging and the buzz dieth to the stillness of the dead. Look—look! The Procurator ariseth. He is full robed! And about to speak!"
Pontius Pilate moved himself so that the hungry mob, awed for the moment into silence by the sight of one condemned, might look upon the voice of power back of the Judgment Hall and Tower of Antonio. When every eye had turned from the royal-robed figure looking out on the mob with god-like calm, Pilate himself turned his eyes from the solitary man to the multitude and after prolonging the silence a moment said, "Ecce homo!"
For the spell of a few short breaths, as if something heavy hung over the heads of the gaping crowd, the silence lasted. Then from a dozen sources, like the fierce yelping of the pack came the cry, 'Staurosate! Crucify him!"
"Hear! Hear!" exclaimed the scribe to his visitor, "those curs of long prayers and dangling frontlet do much loyal shouting for Caesar whom in their hearts they curse. Neither for Caesar care they, neither for their Temple, but for the favor of Caesar and the gold of the Temple will they swear lies and lick the hand of power. But let me turn aside for a brief spell to deliver up the superscription that Pilate hath commanded be fastened on the cross above the thorn-cut brow of him who would be king. Look you—read: 'Jesus Nasarenus, Rex Judaeorum.'" The scribe and his visitors laughed heartily. "And lest among the multitude that hath heard of a new king, there are those unfamiliar with our own tongue, Pilate hath given command that the superscription be written in Greek and in the ancient letters of the Jews' own Law. Also I would put the seal on the death sentence. Wouldst thou see this too?"