The child had not followed the Galilean far when the dull rumbling of chariot-wheels and the sharp crack of a whip warned him out of the narrow thoroughfare. He flattened himself against a convenient wall and stared greedily at the sight. This could be no less than a Roman official of high rank; the boy knew it right well; his eyes roved eagerly over the rich appointments of the chariot, and fastened inquiringly on the frowning face of the man who guided the plunging horses. A second man stood at the driver’s side, a man wearing a tunic and toga richly bordered with the imperial purple.
Tor drew his breath sharply in pleased [pg 32]astonishment. Then he saw that the chariot was hotly pursued by a crowd of gamins like himself.
“’Tis the Roman Pilate himself,” he chuckled, “and perchance he will presently cast out coin like grain from the fat pouch at his girdle.”
A shrill cry burst from the child’s lips as he joined the rabble at the chariot-wheels. To run, to shout, to feel the glad thud of the falling coin; to wrestle fiercely in the dust, to arise victorious, to eat and drink the fruits of conquest—this was no new thing to Tor. And what, indeed, was the random sting of a Roman lash—even when it chanced to fall on naked limbs or shoulders—to the glory of the chase?
The man who held the whip plied it vigorously before and behind with loud imprecations in an unknown tongue, [pg 33]while he who wore the imperial purple stared frowningly into vacancy, his hands clasped loosely behind his back.
Tor’s swift feet gained on the chariot. “Hail, great Pilate!” he shouted impudently, “art deaf? art blind? art palsied? Give us now of the temple treasure! Ay—give! give!”
The Roman’s dull eyes flashed baleful fire. The fact that he had attempted to seize large sums from the temple treasuries, and that the Jews hated him for it, was no secret in Jerusalem. But must the very gamins of the street taunt him with the fact? He snatched the lash from the driver and plied it himself with a practiced hand.
Tor fell back with a shriek of keenest agony.
The chariot and the rabble swept on and disappeared, leaving the child [pg 34]writhing on the pavement like a wounded animal.
The whip, fringed cruelly with glistening barbs of steel, had lashed him full across the eyes.