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?"

"Yea, for not before hath it been given my eyes to read the death
sentence of a 'King.'"

The scribe spread a fresh parchment[1] on the table and the Romans bent
over it to read. "Yet a moment!" the scribe called to the men at the
table. "Something strange is happening--look! Pilate is washing his
hands in a basin! What hath so defiled them that ablution doth take
place in the eyes of the shouting mob?"

"A mystery--yea