The Jews laid him on the cross. They set a long nail on one palm where the bone was most solid and drove it through with such force it extended far beyond the wood. He was pinned down, mortal. He lost his gold dust, his lips turned blue, his wounds showed purple against chalky skin. All his sinews and veins drew together and his jaw worked in horror. Pain shrank his sinews so his other hand would not reach the hole drilled for it. The Jews fastened ropes to it and pulled. They drew his feet the same way. They crucified his right foot with one nail and over it the left foot with another so that the nerves and veins were extended and broken.

Mary whispered, “Ah, St. Stephen wore a short doublet . . . black for humility . . .” She was just a few molecules waked by a breeze.

Margery shoved her aside. “You accursed Jews, why are you killing Jesus? Kill me instead and let him go!”

They made a loud shout as they hoisted the cross with Jesus hanging from it a foot or more above the ground and let it drop into the mortise. Jesus shuddered, all his joints burst apart, blood ran down from his wounds. They drove wooden pegs on all sides so the cross would stand firm. The only cloud in the sky hid the sun, making the cloud bright and the sky yellow. Jesus’s eyes darkened; he couldn’t see except when he expelled blood by squeezing his eyelids. His face grew chalky from loss of blood, his hair and eyes were filled with blood, his ears stopped up with blood.

He tried to stretch himself on the cross to relieve the bitter pain in his arms. The color of death came on, his cheeks hung pale, his ribs could be numbered, his belly collapsed on his back as though he had no stomach, and his nostrils were pinched. His heart was breaking from the pain. He raised his head slightly, inclined to the right. Flies had converged on his face. His pale lips opened and his tongue and teeth were coated with blood.

Terror lifted Margery’s amorphous head up through the silence. Her heart thudded slowly. She shrieked in his face, “Don’t abandon me!” With that Jesus died, his human career ended. His death can’t be understood inside the argument of life or the system of Margery’s attraction. His hands shrank a little from the nail holes and his feet bore more of his weight. Mary fainted; the sky convulsed in a bruised aqua without moisture and the dry land erupted under their feet. Margery ran in a crouch, ducking bombs and horn blasts from pre-eternity. Sche cryid, sche roryd & wept sor that many man on hir wonderyd. Though she expected his death, it was still a shock.