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true. I denied my Lord three times, just as He said I would. I am ashamed unto death.”
    “And yet it is not you who are to die, is it?” Mark said.
    Peter shook his head miserably. John’s brother put a hand on his shoulder. “We must hear the rest, Simon.”
    Peter cleared his throat, his voice now weak and raspy. “They twisted a crown from thorns and pressed it on His head, putting a reed in His right hand. And they bowed before Him and mocked Him, saying, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ They spat on Him and took the reed and struck Him on the head. And when they had mocked Him, they took the robe off Him, put His own clothes on Him, and led Him away.”
    “To be crucified?” Mark said.
    Peter nodded, still averting his eyes. “As they dragged him out, they found a man of Cyrene—some said his name was also Simon—and compelled him to bear Jesus’ cross. They were on their way to Golgotha, the Place of a Skull, when we fled.”
    “You fled yet again,” Mark said, tears streaming. “You might as well have been the one carrying His cross! Who is with Him now? Anyone who cares for Him?”
    Peter rubbed his face. “John is there, with Jesus’ mother and Mary of Magdala. And several women from Galilee.”
    “I must go!” Mark’s mother said, standing. “Someone take me!”
    But the disciples sat unmoving.
    “Is my son right? Are you all cowards? I shall go myself then!” She grabbed a shawl and ran from the house.
    “None of you?” Mark said, glaring at them. “Hide in the upper room then! Learn from John, the youngest among you, and from the women, what has become of your Teacher, your Master, your Lord.”
    And he ran to escort his mother to the place of death, less than half a mile to the north of their home.
    When he caught her just past Herod’s Palace, she stopped and turned to face him. “Only you,” she said, seeming to grasp what he had been trying to tell her about the disciples and their weakness.
    “Only me, and I will not be turned away.”
    “You are a man today, Mark, but I will allow you to come only on your solemn promise that you keep your distance. The authorities do not care about me, but men who go there will be subject to arrest.”
    “I am not afraid.”
    She looked at him with such earnestness that he could not look away or deny her. “Your solemn promise, John Mark.”
    “I promise.”

FIVE
    W hen Mark and Mary reached the awful plateau, a crowd had gathered, and Mark knew he could mingle without being detected. But they came to the edge of the scene, his mother turned to him. “No farther.”
    He nodded and watched her proceed directly to John and to Jesus’ mother and the other women—including John’s mother. They huddled a distance from where three crosses lay in the dust. The women embraced and consoled one another. Mark was so proud of John and his courage.
    It was about nine in the morning when two other condemned men were nailed to their crosses and raised to where they would die. Jesus cried out when the spikes pierced His flesh and His cross was raised and then sunk with a thud into the earth between the two. Horrified and repulsed, Mark did not know where he found the fortitude to watch, and yet he could not turn away.
    As the Teacher hung there, gasping, chest heaving, shoulders straining to pull Himself high enough for each breath, one of the guards leaned a crude ladder against the cross and mounted it, nailing above His head the accusation against Him: THIS IS JESUS THE KING OF THE JEWS .
    Jesus peered down at His mother. “Woman,” He said, “behold your son!” He turned to John. “Behold your mother!”
    Many who watched blasphemed Him, wagging their heads and saying, “You who destroy the temple and build it in three days, save Yourself! If You are the Son of God, come down from the cross!”
    Even the rulers in the crowd called out, “He saved others; let Him save Himself if He is the Christ, the chosen of God.”
    The soldiers also mocked