Chapter Five

Via Dolorosa

Kat followed blindly behind her guardian as he led her out of the praetorian. Her eyes were still filled with the sight of Jesus's blood upon the floor, and her ears were still filled with the sound of the scourging. Again and again, overwhelming the spectacle of the blood, she saw Him as He gazed at her. Through His own pain and fear, still His love remained fiercely in his eyes.

And it hurt.

It hurt more than feeling in her own heart, the strident longing for His own good and happiness which was so cruelly crushed with every blow of the scourge. More than knowing that He was in pain, weary and hurt nearly unto death. Kat could feel her heart crushed beneath the immense weight of His love, and knowing that all this was because of His love. Knowing that all this was for her. It hurt almost more than she could bear.

Couldn't you hate me. . . Even just a little bit? But He would not hate her, not ever. Kat had the sudden and mad desire to run out and do the worst thing she could think of, and then He would hate her. Then He would not love her so much.

She stopped abruptly, as if someone had called her, and looked back. Barely able to keep His feet as the guards hauled Him out, Jesus still managed somehow to raise his head and, in spite of swollen eyes half-blinded by blood, and looked at her. She stood stock-still, trembling but unable to look away. There could be no mistaking that look. No misunderstanding. He loved her, and He would always love her. No matter what she did, it could not make Him love her the tiniest bit less. She could not run fast enough, there was no where she could hide. He would catch her. He would find her.

Kat wanted to scream, to thrash about, to pound her fists against the ground until all the bones were broken. Instead, she stood and felt His gaze bath her in love. The fight seeped out gradually. He wanted her, loved her. To rage against Him, to hurt Him more, the thought instantly brought the tears back to Kat's eyes.

"Kat," her guardian said, drawing her firmly away. "We must find John. You will stay with him."

"I don't know if. . ." Kat began, but then let her voice trailed off. Could she truly want to be anywhere but here? Even if it raked her raw and left her to bleed, she decided, she would stay. "Please, lead on."

John did not appear surprised to see her, only spared her a compassionate glance and a comforting hand on her shoulder. "They have condemned Him," he told her, gently. "He is to be crucified."

Kat swallowed, and nodded. "I-I know." She sniffed, wiping at her eyes.

Someone wiped her tears with the clean edge of a cloth and a tender hand. Kat looked up and found herself face to face with Mary, Jesus' mother. Kat knew who she was in an instant for through tears and pain lined her face deeply, they could not hide the incomparable beauty in the gentle face.

"You have seen my son," the woman said quietly, knowingly.

The tears fell all the faster, and Kat embraced Mary with a great sob. "He loves you! He told me to tell you!"

Mary wrapped the folds of her mantle around the girl and held her to her breast. "I know," she murmured. "I know He does, as I know He loves you." She touched Kat's face as the child looked up to her, tears still running down her face. "It will be as He wills it."

Another woman laid comforting hands on Kat's shoulders. "Poor child," she whispered to Mary. "This is so much for her eyes to see." Kat looked back at Mary of Magdalene. Despite her kind words, deep worry lined her face. "John, can you see Him?"

John shook his head as he peered above the crowds gathered in the street. "No."

Mary of Magdalene clutched at Mary's hand. "How can this be happening? How can He allow it?"

The virgin gripped her hand. "Have faith," she murmured, but Kat could see that Mary was filled with fear for her son, perhaps more than any of them. Kat felt her heart clench with a new pain. Mary, the sweet mother who comforted her, had no part in this. There was no sin on the heart which soon would pierced with a sword.

Mary of Magdalene took Kat's hand when Mary released her. "And she comforts me," Kat said quietly, awed, to the former prostitute.

Mary of Magdalene sighed, quickly wiping a tear from her own eye. "Yes. She is filled with love and grace. . . But her heart is breaking. O Lord," and she grew distant for a moment, looking towards the praetorian," will You yet be delivered from this? Why, why must He suffer?"

"There!" John suddenly exclaimed, and Kat stood on tip-toe with the women to try and see above the shouting crowd. For a moment, none of them could see anything but waving arms and heads, but then came the soldiers parting the crowd. A great gasp came from Mary when they saw finally saw Jesus.

A purple robe lay across His shoulders, dark and glistening with blood. His hair was matted with blood, and His face disfigured and swollen almost beyond recognition. He staggered beneath the great beam on His shoulder, feet slipping on the stones.

Mary of Magdalene wept unabashedly, her body shuddering with grief. All the blood had drained from Mary's face as she gripped John's arm until her knuckles were as white as her face. Tears trailed slowly down the apostle's face even as he reached out to comfort the sorrowing mother. Kat hugged Mary of Magdalene, struggling to contain her own anguish as all around them, the crowd jeered.

Jesus struggled on beneath the cross, but His steps faltered as He neared them. Mary cried out when He fell, and the heavy beam on top of Him. Before John could stop her, Mary had pushed through the crowd and out into the cleared street among the soldiers. The centurions, for their part, stood still in shock as the little and aged Jewish woman ran to the side of her son.

"Yeshua!" She cried, falling to her knees at his side and trying to push the beam off him. "Yeshua!" She gasped with the effort, but could not move the beam more than the smallest fraction. "O Yeshua, my son. . ."

At last, the guards moved the heavy beam. Mary gently took her son's head in her arms and held Him to her, heedless of the thorns of His crown scraped her skin. "Dear Yeshua," she whispered, trying to smile through the tears. He lifted a weary hand to her face, looking up to His mother.

"I must," Kat heard Him rasp as she and the other Mary drew cautiously closer, holding onto John. "I must."

"Get back, woman." One of the guards pushed Mary away from Jesus, though she wailed to be parted from Him. John sheltered the weeping woman in his arms and watched, together with Kat and Mary of Magdalene, as her son climbed laboriously back to His feet.

The head centurion beckoned to a guard. "He can't carry this all the way to Golgotha. Find someone else. Any of these men will do," he indicated the crowd with a broad sweep of his hand," since they're so eager to see him hang."

The guard looked around, the crowd moved restlessly beneath his gaze, and picked out the man with the broadest shoulders. "You!"

The man, and the two young boys with him, looked warily at the guard. "What do you want?" He asked, crossing his arms.

The guard spat in the dust. "You look strong enough. Come, carry this beam." His mouth twisted in a sneer. "He needs a little help."

"Bu-But I am I here to make a sacrifice at the temple," the man protested as the guard dragged him roughly into the street. "I will have to be purified again after touch the blood."

"Quiet!" The guard growled. "Carry it."

Still grumbling, the man bent and heaved up the beam onto his shoulders. He looked back at Jesus, still struggling to keep His feet, and his expression became one of pity. Jesus lifted His face, looking through eyes nearly shut.

"Thank you. . . Simon," Jesus managed.

Simon of Cyrene showed no surprise at hearing his own name from this condemned criminal. He showed no sigh of having heard what Jesus had said. Simon simply looked into the bloodshot eyes for a long moment before heaving the beam onto one shoulder and reaching out with the other arm to steady the faltering man.

Kat followed with Mary of Magdalene, holding tightly to each others hands. John kept close behind them, half supporting the mother of Jesus who was bent nearly double with grief. "My son," she kept whispered. "My son. . . Yeshua. . ."

The sounds of the street were muted in Kat's ears. She watched Simon ahead of them, staggering under the weight of the cross while still half-dragging Jesus along. "Please," she whispered. "Please, give him strength." The sun above beat down upon them, and Kat's nose was filled with the smell of blood and death.

Again and again, Jesus slipped from Simon's grasp and fell. Each time, Mary exclaimed loudly and tried to go to him. John held her back, though she begged him to let her go, weeping bitterly. Mary of Magdalene turned away the third time, sobbing quietly. Kat could only watch, mutely.

Why could he not just lay down and die? Why did he have to keep rising and going on? Surely this was enough. Surely he had suffered more than enough. How much longer would the Lamb of God be made to continue in agony before it was finished? The questions spun through Kat's head and deep in her heart, she knew that the worst was yet to come.

And ahead of her, she saw the place where once, long ago, an aged man had brought his only son to be sacrificed. Here, where the covenant had begun, it would be ended.

Golgotha, the place of the skull.

Author's Note: So I skipped a few stations . . . There will be, I think four? more chapters. Thanks for reading.