A sharp gust of wind sent the dust swirling around the hilltop. The commander raised his eyes skyward, and then, as the first fat drops of rain spattered into the dust, he decided that it was time to disperse the crowds before the situation deteriorated further. Turning to his cohort, he gave the final command: 'Finish it.'
Taking up his hammer once more, the big Roman stepped to the nearest of the victims and with a mighty swing, hurled the flat of the hammer into the man's leg halfway between knee and ankle. The shinbone cracked with a dull sickening crunch-a sound so appalling it even made the blood-lusting crowd wince. The suffering wretch screamed in agony and passed out. The legionary applied the hammer to the other leg, and the unconscious man slumped down hard, the weight of his body tearing his arms from their sockets as his legs folded neatly in half. He gave a strangled sigh, choked on his tongue, and expired.
The executioner moved on to the next thief, who was yet aware enough to know what was about to take place. He began pleading and crying to be spared. But the soldier took no heed, breaking both the man's legs with as many blows of the hammer. The second victim was not so lucky as the first; he did not pass out but screamed and writhed in agony as he kept trying to raise himself up on his ruined legs so as to fill his lungs with air. He jerked and twitched pitifully, the sharp shards of shinbone poking through the flesh of his damaged limbs, each movement bringing fresh torture as the ragged ends of his shattered bones gnashed and splintered like broken teeth.
Turning his attention to the last victim, the big Roman swung his hammer wide, but withheld the blow at the last instant. Looking up into the face of the hanging man, he said, 'This one is dead.'
The watching elders heard this and raised an outcry at once. 'How can it be?' they demanded. 'It is not yet evening!'
'He is not dead!' someone shouted. 'He has only swooned.'
One of the elders, dressed in red robes and wearing a heavy chain of gold around his neck, stepped forwards. 'See here, centurion,' he said in educated Latin, 'the people are right. He has only swooned – revive him, and you will see.'
The executioner heard this and grew angry. 'Do you call me liar?' he snarled.
'By no means!' said the elder, raising his hands as if to fend off a blow. 'But this Jesu was known to be a sorcerer and a magician. He may be using his powers to feign death. Do not be deceived. Rather, do your duty.'
'I know my duty,' growled the big Roman, moving nearer, 'just as I know a dead man when I see one.' Hefting the hammer in his hand, he said, 'Maybe you would like to join him in Hades-or wherever it is you people go.'
The wealthy elder gave a yelp and backed away. The executioner made as if to pursue him into the crowd, but the centurion called him back. 'Longinus! Enough! We will prove it to them,' he said, casting an eye to the gathering storm. 'Then maybe we can get back to the city before we're soaked to the bone.'
The big Roman abandoned his pursuit and returned to the foot of the framework. Taking his spear, he raised it to the Anointed One's side and thrust it up hard beneath his ribs in the centre of his chest. Watery blood burst from the wound, gushing in a pale fountain all at once. There was neither movement nor outcry from the victim, and I knew I looked upon a corpse.
At that moment, there came a great peal of thunder and the storm broke with a force to shake the very earth. A cold wind whirled around the hilltop, whining like an animal in pain, and kicking up prodigious clouds of dust and dirt. Seeing that the condemned men were dead, the crowd retreated, streaming back to the city, throwing their cloaks over their heads as they ran. The Romans quickly gathered up their weapons and followed the throng back to the city, leaving two of their number behind to keep watch.
The rain came hard and fast, pelting down in stinging sheets. I looked around, expecting to find myself alone on the hillside, but was surprised to discover a small, miserable knot of people-women, mostly-standing a little apart. They were weeping and clinging to one another, oblivious to the storm crashing around them.
The wind howled like a wounded animal. Lightning flashed and rolling blasts of thunder shook the ground as if to crack the very walls of Jerusalem. The rain pitched down in great lashing waves -as if the bruised sky had ruptured, spilling out its waters all at once. The dry hillside slowly dissolved into a sticky quagmire.
Despite the savage blast, I waited to see what would happen, and in a little while the storm which had blown up so quickly, passed the same way. The thunder stopped, and the wind calmed. The air, refreshed from the cooling rain, smelled wonderfully of spices and rare desert flowers. The dead men, their corpses washed, hung dripping from their crosspieces, clean now, and ready for burial.
Above the sound of the wailing women, I heard someone calling from the road below; I turned to see a young dark-bearded man in a fine yellow cloak hastening towards the hill and hailing the little knot of mourners as he came. Some distance behind him came a man leading a donkey and cart. I do not know if either of them had been present at the execution, but the young man quickly mounted the hillside and joined the group. They held a brief discussion, whereupon he stepped out from among them and approached the timber frame.
The two soldiers, who had been huddling in the shelter of the rocks, stepped forwards and demanded to know the man's business. He replied, speaking in good Latin, and said that he had come for the body of Jesu. 'It is growing late,' he explained. 'The Sabbath begins at sunset. We must remove the body before the sun sets, for it is against the law to bury a man on the Sabbath. Likewise it is an abomination to leave the dead unburied.'
The young soldier frowned. 'We were told nothing about this. You must get permission from the governor.'
'Please,' the young man said, 'there is no time.' Indicating the bundle under his arm, he said, 'I have brought the shroud, and I will happily take full responsibility for the burial.'
Reaching into his belt he brought out several pieces of silver which he passed to the soldier. 'This is for your trouble. I will need your help to get him down.'
The second soldier looked at the money, and nudged his more reluctant comrade. 'Very well,' the legionary agreed at last. 'You can have all three of them for all I care.'
The young man called to the waiting mourners, still clustered together, sobbing quietly, and two men came out from among them to help. The Romans put up the ladder and one of them ascended with drawn sword, preparing to hack off the hands of the dead man.
'No! Please, no!' cried the young man. 'You must not mutilate the body.'
The legionary grimaced. 'I thought you were in a hurry, friend.' Hefting the broad blade. 'A clean chop-it is the best way.'
'He won't feel a thing,' added the other soldier helpfully. 'He's dead as dung.' /
Pointing to the group of women now standing below the body, the young man said, 'Please, for his mother's sake, let us preserve what little dignity remains.'
The soldier shrugged and proceeded to hack at the rope binding the crosspiece to the upper framework. One side gave way and the body slewed sideways. Leaning across the corpse, he cut the other rope, and the body pitched forwards, still attached to the rood piece. Those on the ground caught the blessed body of Our Lord and bore it up while the second legionary raised a massive pair of iron tongs and proceeded to nip the head from the spike through the corpse's ankles.
It was difficult work, and the young Jew continually urged the soldiers to use as much care as possible. Before it was over, all of the mourners were needed to help support the body so as to prevent it breaking off at the feet. But at last the legionary succeeded in freeing the corpse and they laid the inert body of the Lord Jesu gently on the wet ground.