breakers, hung limp.
They were too well dead now longer to attract sight-seers, and the few
guards left kept tired watch at a distance. The center cross stood
tall, its outstretched arms overtopping the lesser crosses. On its
highest point was the superscription of Pilate. There was nothing to
show it had been the death bed of a human being, other than the red
stains at its center made by the scourge-cut back that had lain against
it. In the full light of a western sun, this red center took on a
ruddy glow.

Silent the two stood a moment. Then she said, "And thou callest him
'conqueror' whose wounded body doth even now lie in the tomb?"

"According to the mystery of the Way, he is more than conqueror."

"What is the Way, my eunuch?"

"The way of a seed of corn that passeth into the abundance of new life."

"Thy message reacheth the heart of Claudia but dimly. Hast thou not
words to name this Way?"

"Yea, most noble mistress. In thine own tongue can thy servant name
the Way."

"I listen."

"_Via crucis_."

"_Via crucis_," Claudia repeated. "And this meaneth?" and she lifted
her eyes to the face of the man.

"That when in thy heart thou hast overcome fear and unbelief, then hast
thou the victory over death and the grave. This be the Way."

"Oh, that I _might_ have victory over fear and doubt and death! That I
might enter into the faith! My scarred eunuch, thou hast led my feet
thus far. Take thou my hand and lead me yet a little nearer to the
cross."

Hand in hand the Roman noblewoman and the scarred eunuch moved nearer
the bloodstained emblem of baptism to the Way. The man released the
hand of the woman that he might hold both hands over his heart as he
lifted his face to some blessed hope or vision that lay beyond sight of
the woman's eyes. Yet she read on his calm and shining face that he
too was a conqueror and that yet in his body he had victory over death.
She turned her eyes once again to the crimson wood just before her,
lifted her hand and reverently made the sign of the cross over her
heart. As she did so a peace greater than her understanding flooded
her being and her breath came like that of one new born, as she
whispered, "_Crux rosatus_! _In hoc signo vinces_!"

CHAPTER XXXIII

I AM

Thirty-six hours had passed since the execution of Jesus of Nazareth,
bringing the first day of a new week. Very early in the morning Mary
and Martha had arisen. With Anna and Debora,