The Prince of the House of David

by J. H. Ingraham

Thus speaking, he lifted the cross and bore it on his shoulders after Jesus, who, weak from loss of blood and sleep, and weary unto death, had to lean for support against one arm of the instrument of death.

Ah, my dear father, what a place was this across which we moved! Skulls lay scattered beneath our footsteps, and everywhere human bones bleached in the air, and we trod in heaps of ashes where the Romans had burned the bodies of many of those whom they crucified.

The crosses carried by the thieves were now thrown down by them; by one with an execration, by the other with a sigh, as he anticipated the anguish he was to suffer upon it.

The larger cross of the three was that for Jesus. It was taken by three soldiers from the back of the old Cyrenian merchant and cast heavily upon the earth. It was now that a crisis approached of the most painful interest. The centurion ordered his soldiers to clear a circle about the place where the crosses were to be planted with their spears. The Jews who had crowded near, in eager thirst for their victim's blood, gave back slowly and reluctantly before the sharp points of the Roman lances pushed against their breasts, for the centurion had with him full threescore men-at-arms, besides a part of Herod's guard. John, however, held his place close by his Master. He relates that Jesus continued to evince the same sublime composure when the centurion commanded the crucifiers to advance and nail the malefactors to their crosses. The robber-lieutenant, Ishmerai, who was an Edomite, upon seeing the man approach with the basket containing the spikes and hammers, scowled fiercely upon him and looked defiance. He was instantly seized by four savage-looking Parthian soldiers of the Roman guard, and stripped and thrown upon his back upon the cross. His struggles, for he was an athletic man, were so violent that it took six persons to keep him held down upon the arms of the cross and his palms spread open to receive the entering nail, which one of the crucifiers, with naked and brawny arms, pressing one knee upon the wrist, drove in through the flesh and wood, by three quick and powerful blows with his short, heavy-headed hammer.

Thus secured he was left, bleeding and writhing, by the six crucifiers; for there are four to bind the victim, one to hold the spikes, and the sixth to drive them home with his hammer, and from the glance I caught of their half-naked and blood-stained figures, they were worthy to hold the dreadful office which made all men shun them as if they were leprous.

They now approached Omri, the other robber, who was a young man with a mild look, and a face whose noble lineaments did not betray his profession. He was the son of a wealthy citizen in Jericho, and had by riotous living, spent his patrimony and joined Barabbas. He had heard Jesus preach in the wilderness of Jordan, and had once asked him with deep interest many things touching the doctrines he taught.

When the crucifiers, with their cords, basket, nails and iron hammer, drew near him, he said:

"I will not compel you to throw me down. I can die as I have lived, without fear. As I have broken the laws, I am ready to suffer the penalty of the laws."

Thus speaking, he stretched himself upon his cross and, extending his palms along the transverse beam, he suffered them to nail him to the wood, uttering not a moan. He glanced towards Jesus at the same time with an expression of courage, as if he sought to show him that the pain could be borne by a brave man. And perhaps, indeed, Jesus looked as if he needed an heroic example before him to show him how to die without shrinking, for his cheek was like the marble of Paros in its whiteness, and he seemed ready to drop to the earth from weakness. His youth, his almost divine beauty, which not even his tangled hair and torn beard and blood-streaked countenance could wholly hide, the air of celestial innocence that beamed from his eyes, drew upon him many glances of sympathy even from some of his foes. The centurion, who was a tall man with a grizzly beard, and with the hardy exterior of an old Roman warrior, looked upon him with a sad gaze and said:

"I do not see what men hate thee for, for thou seemest more to be a man of love; but I must do my duty, and I hope thou wilt forgive me what I do. A soldier's honor is to obey."