Come on move it let’s get this over with, jailer clanked the key to turn the lock and the heavy oppressive door laboured upon its hinges. Prisoner rose to his feet and was led out to the grey cobbled yard. Crowning a mound of earth, loomed the cross. No surprise to anyone. The gaunt white haired figure unsympathetically handled into position. Anything but this, muttered the old man. Pain mattered little, for days now awaiting this execution he had sat within his cell a so-called crown of thorns forced down around his head, body naked save for a piece of white linen loose around his waist. This was his punishment or rather as it was called his correction. Small wave of anger arose in him.