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was dressed in a shabby, torn blue chiton. His head was covered with a white bandage fastened round his forehead, his hands tied behind his back. There was a large bruise under the mans left eye and a scab of dried blood fetish gay jacket leather in one corner of his mouth. The prisoner stared at the Procurator with anxious curiosity. The Procurator was silent at first, then asked quietly in Aramaic: So you have been inciting the people to destroy the temple of Jerusalem? The Procurator sat as though carved in stone, his lips barely moving as he pronounced the words. The Procurator was like stone from fear of shaking his fiendishly aching head. The man with bound hands made a slight move forwards and began speaking: Good man! Believe me . . . But the fetish gay jacket leather Procurator, immobile as before and without raising his voice, at once interrupted him : You call me good man? You are making a mistake. The rumour about me in Jerusalem is that I am a raving monster and that is absolutely correct, and he added in the same monotone : Send centurion Muribellum fetish gay jacket leather to me. The balcony seemed to darken when the centurion of the first century. Mark surnamed Muribellum, appeared before the Procurator. Muribellum was a head taller than the tallest soldier in the legion and so broad in the shoulders that he completely obscured the rising fetish gay jacket leather sun. The Procurator said to the centurion in Latin: This criminal calls me good man . Take him away for a minute and show him the proper way to address me. But do not mutilate him. All except the motionless Procurator watched Mark Muribellum as he gestured to fetish gay jacket leather the prisoner to follow him. Because of his height people always watched Muribellum wherever he went. Those who saw him for the first time were inevitably fascinated by his disfigured face : his nose had once been smashed by a blow from a German club. Marks heavy boots resounded on fetish gay jacket leather the mosaic, the bound man followed him noiselessly. There was complete silence under the arcade except for the cooing of doves in the garden below and the water singing its seductive tune in the fountain. The Procurator had a sudden urge to get up and put his temples under the stream of water until they were numb. But he knew that even that would not help. Having led the prisoner out of the arcade into the garden, Muribellum took a whip from the hands of a legionary standing by the plinth of a bronze statue and with a gentle

swing struck the prisoner across the shoulders. The centurions movement was slight, almost negligent, but the bound man collapsed instantly as though his legs had been struck from under him and he gasped for air. The colour fled from his face and his eyes clouded. With only fetish gay jacket leather his left hand Mark lifted the fallen man into the air as lightly as an empty sack, set him on his feet and said in broken, nasal Aramaic: You call a Roman Procurator hegemon Dont say anything else. Stand to fetish gay jacket leather attention. Do you understand or must I hit you again? The prisoner staggered helplessly, his colour returned, he gulped and answered hoarsely : I understand you. Dont beat me. A minute later he was again standing in front of the Procurator. The harsh, suffering voice rang out: Name? Mine? fetish gay jacket leather enquired the prisoner hurriedly, his whole being expressing readiness to answer sensibly and to forestall any further anger. The Procurator said quietly : I know my own name. Dont pretend to be stupider than you are. Your name. Yeshua, replied the prisoner hastily. Surname? Ha-Notsri. Where are you from? From fetish gay jacket leather the town of Gamala, replied the prisoner, nodding his head to show that far over there to his right, in the north, was the town of Gamala. Who are you by birth? I dont know exactly, promptly answered the prisoner, I dont remember my parents. I was told that my father was a Syrian. . . . Where is your fixed abode? I have no home, said the prisoner shamefacedly, I move from town to town. There is a shorter way of saying that--in a word you are a vagrant, said the Procurator and asked: Have you fetish gay jacket leather any relations? No, none. Not one in the world. Can you read and write? Yes. Do you know any language besides Aramaic? Yes. Greek. One swollen eyelid was raised and a pain-clouded eye stared at the prisoner. The other eye remained closed. Pilate said in Greek : So fetish gay jacket leather you intended to destroy the temple building and incited the people to do so? Never, goo . . . Terror flashed across the prisoners face for having so nearly said the wrong word. Never in my life, hegemon, have I intended to destroy the temple. Nor have fetish gay jacket leather I ever tried to persuade anyone to do such a senseless thing. A look of amazement came over the secretarys face as he bent over a low table recording the evidence. He raised his head but immediately lowered it again over his parchment. People of all kinds are streaming into