The soldier who was nailing Christ on the cross now lifted up His knees
so that the soles of His feet should be flat against the wood, and
taking the measure so that the iron nail should be long enough to go
through the instep, he pierced the first foot, and drove the nail home.
He did the same to the other foot, and at the end glanced up, still with
his hammer in his hand, to see if he had finished his work, and if
anything was lacking. He remembered the scroll which they had taken from
Jesus’ neck and flung down on the ground. He picked it up, climbed again
up the ladder, and with two nails fastened it on the upright of the
cross, above the thorn-crowned head.
Then he came down the ladder for the last time, threw away his hammer,
and looked to see if his companions had finished their work. The
thieves, too, were now in place and all three crosses had their
flesh-offerings. The soldiers could rest and divide the garments which
henceforth the men up there on the crosses needed no more. This was the
perquisite of the executioners and came to them by law. Four soldiers
had a right to Jesus’ clothes and they divided them into four parts.
This left the tunic, which was without seam, woven all in one piece. It
would be a sin to cut it, for after that it would be of no use to any
one; but one of them, an old gambler, took out his dice, threw them, and
the tunic was awarded by luck. From now on the only possession of the
King of the Jews was the thorns of His crown which, as a greater insult,
they had left on His head.
All was finished: the drops of blood fell slowly from His hands on the
ground and the blood from His feet reddened the cross. From now on He
was to flee no more; His blaspheming mouth was soon to be gaping in
agony, but it was to teach no more forever. The assassins might be
satisfied with themselves and with the foreign executioners. The
poisoner of the people, the enemy of the Temple and of business, was
fastened with four solid nails on the tree of ignominy. From that night
on the lords of Jerusalem could sleep more peacefully.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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