"Roads by Seabury Quinn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Quinn Seabury)

rent his splendid priestly robe. "Not that, centurion! Yon
superscription labels this blasphemer with the very title that
he claimed, and for claiming which he now hangs on the
gallows. Take down the card and change it so it reads that he
is not our king, but that he claimed the kingly title in despite
of Caesar!"
There was something almost comic in the priests'
malevolence as they fairly gnashed their teeth in rage, and
Claudius with the fighting man's instinctive contempt for
politicians grinned openly as he replied, "'Twere best you
made complaint to Pilate, Priest. What he has written he has
written, nor do I think that he will change yon title for all your
whining grumble."


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"Caesar shall hear of this!" the wrathful high priest
snarled. "He shall be told how Pilate mocked our people and
incited them to riot by labeling a hanged malefactor our
King -"
Claudius turned abruptly to the centurion commanding
the execution squad. "Clear away this rabble," he directed.
"Must we be pestered by their mouthings?"
From the figure on the central cross a low moan came: "I
thirst."
Claudius took a sponge and dipped it in the jar of sour
wine and myrrh that stood beside him on the ground. He put
it on a lance and held it to the sufferer's lips, but the poor
weak body was too far spent to drink. A shudder ran through
it, and with a final flash of strength the Prophet murmured: "It
is finished. Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit." A
last convulsive spasm, and the thorn-crowned head fell
forward on the shoulder. All was over.
"We had best be finishing our work," the execution
squad's commander said phlegmatically. "These priests are
set on mischief and we'll have a riot on our hands if one of
these should live till sundown." He motioned to a burly
executioner who picked up a sledge and methodically went
about the task of smashing the suspended felons' arm- and
leg-bones.
"Nay, by Father Odin's Ravens, thou shalt not break the
good young Prophet's legs," Claudius declared as he
snatched a guardsman's spear. "Let him die a man's death!"

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