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Authors: Barry Sadler
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moment which was yet to come.
The Guardians of the Blood of the Lamb threw back their hoods from their rough homespun cloaks, exposing tear-streaked faces in contorted caricatures of ecstasy as they wept for the Lamb.
"Longinus," they began to chant, the name echoing from the nearby hills. "Longinus." Over and over, in rhythm with their own heartbeats, they chanted.
Casca felt a shiver run over him as his name was called. From his place of concealment, everything was visible; the bushes he was hiding behind served only to keep him from the eyes of the Guardians. But why were they calling his name?
The answer was not long in coming. Elder Dacort approached the crucified sobbing man, wearing the uniform of the legion of two hundred years ago, complete with trappings and insignia of the Legion, the Jerusalem Garrison. His red army cloak billowed in the wind, Casca noted that the Gladius Iberius was in the proper position on the priest's right side and then in the monk's left hand he saw the pilum.
"The spear, Longinus," the monks wailed. "Have mercy!" Elder Dacort stood at the surrogate Christ's left side and raised the spear, his face wild, long beard whipping in the growing wind. Even from this distance, Casca could see the weapon clearly, His mark was on it, where in practice, a careless lunge had left a deep scar in the wooden shaft running a foot up to the base of the metal blade.
"It's mine. It's my spear. Where did they get it, and how?" The brother on the cross looked at his executioner in delirious pleasure. The time was near. Raising his eyes to the heavens he cried out, "O my father, why hast thou forsaken me," and shivered in pleasure.
As the mock Roman drove the spear into his side, some words were lost to Casca as the wind blew them away but several came through clear enough to make his stomach jerk in fear. . . "As you are, so you shall remain. . ."
The spear was withdrawn from the man's side and blood poured forth, covering the weapon for a foot or more down the blade.
The brethren crawled on their bellies, moaning as they slid over the stones to the base of the cross, then rising up high enough to lick blood off the weapon and fall into a fit approaching a religious orgasm. Each in his turn, drank the blood of the crucified Lamb.
The blessed one on the cross shivered and died, his body hanging with limp arms outstretched at the shoulder sockets.
Elder Dacort in his Roman uniform held the spear above his head. Crying out, his voice almost a shriek: "Behold, the spear of Longinus, the spawn of Satan. Through the Blood of the Lamb, was he given life... life to walk the earth until the master returns. The founder of our order, Izram the Syrian, who came to join the master and became the thirteenth disciple, was at the Mount of Skulls and heard the words of the Lord Jesus that condemned the Roman dog to life. It was Izram who witnessed the blood of the Lamb touching the dog's tongue and thereby transforming him into the undying beast he is now and Izram who bought the Roman's spear from his comrades after the beast was sentenced to the mines. Izram founded our holy order and gave unto us the keeping of the most holy of relics, the Instrument of our Lord's death... the spear of Longinus. Longinus, who must walk the earth until the master comes again. May his every moment be filled with pain unbearable, prolonged through the centuries; may worms nest in his eyes and rats live in his bowels. Longinus lives through the blood of the Lamb as we shall live in Paradise through the blood of our blessed martyred brother, who has become one with the Lord Jesus. Behold the spear of the murderer, the holiest relic in our world, the gateway to heaven."
His eyes flashed as he waved the weapon above his head. "Brothers, pray with me and curse the name of Longinus, the Killer of God!"
The brethren cried tears of agony, which flowed into the dry ground and mingled with the blood of their self-inflicted wounds where they
The Guardians of the Blood of the Lamb threw back their hoods from their rough homespun cloaks, exposing tear-streaked faces in contorted caricatures of ecstasy as they wept for the Lamb.
"Longinus," they began to chant, the name echoing from the nearby hills. "Longinus." Over and over, in rhythm with their own heartbeats, they chanted.
Casca felt a shiver run over him as his name was called. From his place of concealment, everything was visible; the bushes he was hiding behind served only to keep him from the eyes of the Guardians. But why were they calling his name?
The answer was not long in coming. Elder Dacort approached the crucified sobbing man, wearing the uniform of the legion of two hundred years ago, complete with trappings and insignia of the Legion, the Jerusalem Garrison. His red army cloak billowed in the wind, Casca noted that the Gladius Iberius was in the proper position on the priest's right side and then in the monk's left hand he saw the pilum.
"The spear, Longinus," the monks wailed. "Have mercy!" Elder Dacort stood at the surrogate Christ's left side and raised the spear, his face wild, long beard whipping in the growing wind. Even from this distance, Casca could see the weapon clearly, His mark was on it, where in practice, a careless lunge had left a deep scar in the wooden shaft running a foot up to the base of the metal blade.
"It's mine. It's my spear. Where did they get it, and how?" The brother on the cross looked at his executioner in delirious pleasure. The time was near. Raising his eyes to the heavens he cried out, "O my father, why hast thou forsaken me," and shivered in pleasure.
As the mock Roman drove the spear into his side, some words were lost to Casca as the wind blew them away but several came through clear enough to make his stomach jerk in fear. . . "As you are, so you shall remain. . ."
The spear was withdrawn from the man's side and blood poured forth, covering the weapon for a foot or more down the blade.
The brethren crawled on their bellies, moaning as they slid over the stones to the base of the cross, then rising up high enough to lick blood off the weapon and fall into a fit approaching a religious orgasm. Each in his turn, drank the blood of the crucified Lamb.
The blessed one on the cross shivered and died, his body hanging with limp arms outstretched at the shoulder sockets.
Elder Dacort in his Roman uniform held the spear above his head. Crying out, his voice almost a shriek: "Behold, the spear of Longinus, the spawn of Satan. Through the Blood of the Lamb, was he given life... life to walk the earth until the master returns. The founder of our order, Izram the Syrian, who came to join the master and became the thirteenth disciple, was at the Mount of Skulls and heard the words of the Lord Jesus that condemned the Roman dog to life. It was Izram who witnessed the blood of the Lamb touching the dog's tongue and thereby transforming him into the undying beast he is now and Izram who bought the Roman's spear from his comrades after the beast was sentenced to the mines. Izram founded our holy order and gave unto us the keeping of the most holy of relics, the Instrument of our Lord's death... the spear of Longinus. Longinus, who must walk the earth until the master comes again. May his every moment be filled with pain unbearable, prolonged through the centuries; may worms nest in his eyes and rats live in his bowels. Longinus lives through the blood of the Lamb as we shall live in Paradise through the blood of our blessed martyred brother, who has become one with the Lord Jesus. Behold the spear of the murderer, the holiest relic in our world, the gateway to heaven."
His eyes flashed as he waved the weapon above his head. "Brothers, pray with me and curse the name of Longinus, the Killer of God!"
The brethren cried tears of agony, which flowed into the dry ground and mingled with the blood of their self-inflicted wounds where they
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