The big cross, carried by insolent youths, swung to and fro above the heads of the people.

Every one tried to get out of the way of the sinister thing; if a man, joking, thrust his neighbour towards it, he pushed quickly back into the crowd with a shriek.

And the unceasing cry went on: "Hail to Pontius Pilate! To the cross with the Nazarene!" Jesus was led from the hall into the courtyard, where His guards had to protect Him from the fury of the mob.

They led Him up to the cross.
A sentry appeared, and, violently swinging his arm, shouted; "No execution can take place here! Away with Him! No execution can be permitted here!" "To Golgotha!" When the youths found that they would have to take the cross back to where they had fetched it, they let it fall to the ground, so that the wood made a groaning noise, and then ran off.
"Let Him carry His own cross!" shouted several voices.

The plan commended itself to the guards; they unbound His hands, and placed the cross on His shoulder.