His body was a product of the public scourging. Blood and gashes were all over him. Two roman soldiers were laughing aloud on the other side of the hallway. They were coming to him holding thorns arranged in a circle. They looked at him mischievously. “So you are the king of the jews!” a soldier exclaimed dramatically, as the other one laughed loudly. “Here your majesty, you forgot your crown,” and the soldier fitted the thorns around his head. It stung him painfully, as each thorn was sharp and pierced through his skin. His body was no less in pain, as blood was all over him. “Does it fit nice, your majesty?” the soldier asked, while the other one continued his loud laughter. The soldier made sure the thorns fit, tightening it around his forehead by pushing it towards his head with a stick. The sting was terrible, and he let out a shout. He was exhausted and bleeding all over, now even from his forehead. The two soldiers laughed as he shouted in pain. They imitated his shout in mockery, and laughed as loud as they could.

“Here your majesty, your royal robe” one of them said in persistent laughter, and they fitted a cheap robe around his body full of wounds. They laughed at the wretch before them. The man who dared regard himself as king, was bloody and exhausted. The king whose crown was made of thorns watched, as they so wonderfully enjoyed making jokes about him in his presence. “Oh, hail the mighty king of the jews!” A soldier exclaimed through their laughter. They laughed so loudly and wonderfully, as one mockingly knelt and bowed to the king they just crowned.

The man looked at them both as they continued to humiliate him. A soldier noticed the look and suddenly felt unnerved. “Why do you look at us like that? King?” to the laughter of the other soldier. The soldier looked at the bloodied man, and the man looked straight at the soldier. The soldier spat in his face. The other soldier laughed as loud as ever. The soldier who spat laughed too. The man was too battered to even wipe the spittle off his face. He just looked at the two laughing soldiers. 

After a few moments they suddenly felt uncomfortable with his look. “What are you looking at? Stop looking at us like that,” one soldier demanded uneasily.

The bloodied king did not move, only looked.

“Come on,” the other soldier said, “it’s time to bring him to the governor.” They dragged him through the hallway.

The two soldiers were silent as they dragged the bloodied man. They dared not look into his eyes, for they felt an uncomfortable sting each time. Only later would they realize what was in those eyes, and what made them uncomfortable: 

The King loved them.