Claudia awakened in a cold sweat. The haunting dream had her in its throes. She could feel it swirling around her in the room. She closed her eyes, but the images remained, as did the sound of a chant that filled her head. A chorus of voices, hundreds strong, perhaps thousands, repeated the phrase “crucified under Pontius Pilate, crucified under Pontius Pilate.” There was more to the chant, repeated obediently by the voices in her dream, but she heard nothing else, just those four words.
As disturbing as the nightmare sounds were, the sights were worse. It had started out as a beautiful dream, with children dancing on a grassy hill in the springtime sun. Easa stood in the middle of a circle, surrounded by children who were all dressed in white. Pilo was among the children who laughed and danced, as was Smedia. The hill was filling now with people of all ages dressed in white, smiling and singing.
Claudia recognized one of the arriving men in the dream as Praetorus, the centurion who had been healed of a broken hand. The man had confided in her about his own healing after hearing the whispered rumors of Pilo’s miracle. But as she came to the realization that every one of the smiling souls in the dream, adults and children, had been healed by Easa, the landscape changed. The dancing stopped and the sky grew dark as the sound of the chant grew louder and louder: “crucified under Pontius Pilate, crucified under Pontius Pilate.”
Claudia watched in the dreamscape as her beloved Pilo fell to the ground. The last image before she awoke was that of Easa bending over to lift him. He carried Pilo away without looking back as the others fell to the ground around them. She saw her husband then, screaming in futile agony at the retreating form of Easa the Nazarene as he departed with Pilo’s lifeless body. Lightning ripped the sky as the sound of the chant followed them down the hill.
“Crucified under Pontius Pilate.”
“Crucify him!” This was a new sound. Not the eerie chant from the nightmare, but the real sound of hate coming from beyond the walls outside the Fortress Antonia. “Crucify him!”
Claudia rose to dress as the Greek slave rushed into the room.
“My lady, you must come before it is too late. The master sits in the judgment seat and the priests are baying for blood.”
“Who do I hear outside?”
“A great mob. It is early for so many to be here. The men of the Temple must have worked through the night to ensure a large crowd. The sentence will be passed before the rest of Jerusalem has the chance to rally for your Nazarene’s sake.”
Claudia dressed quickly and without her usual care. She had no interest in her appearance today; she simply had to be decent enough to appear before the men attending the tribunal. As she glanced quickly in the mirror, a thought struck her hard.
“Where is Pilo? He is not awake yet, is he?”
“No, my lady. He is still in his bed.”
“Good. Stay with him and see that he remains there. If he awakens, keep him as far away from the walls as you can. I do not want him to see or hear anything that is happening in the city.”
“Of course, my lady,” the Greek slave answered, as Claudia ran from the room on the most important mission of her life.
Claudia Procula did her best to hide her despair and disgust as she entered the patio that had become a makeshift judgment chamber. Pilate had made this concession to the high priests, who would not enter the formal Roman chambers and risk being defiled on Passover. This area was enclosed and private, not exposed to the mob scene that was growing outside the walls. Pontius Pilate had had his chair brought in and sat high on the judgment seat of Rome. Behind him stood two of his trusted guards, the blue-eyed Praetorus and the harsh man Claudia disliked called Longinus. Pilate was flanked on the dais by Caiaphas and Annas on one side, an envoy of Herod on another. The Temple envoy, Jairus, was conspicuous by his absence.
On the floor in front of them, bound and bleeding, was Easa the Nazarene.
Claudia stared at Easa from behind the curtain. He looked up as if he sensed her before he saw her. Their eyes locked for a long moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, and Claudia knew the same feeling of pure love and light that she had felt on the night that Pilo was healed. She had no desire to break the gaze or turn away from the warmth of this man before them. Could these others not feel it? How was it possible for them to stand in this enclosed space and not be affected by the brightness of the sun that shone from such a holy being?
She cleared her throat to alert her husband to her presence. Pilate looked up from his chair and acknowledged Claudia. “Gentlemen, if you will excuse me,” the procurator said as he rose from the judgment seat to join his wife. Claudia took him out of earshot and felt panic shoot through her as she looked at her husband’s ashen face. Sweat trickled across his forehead and down his temples, yet it was a mild morning.
“I do not see an easy outcome here, Claudia,” he said quietly.
“Pontius, you cannot allow them to kill this man. You know what he is.”
Pilate shook his head. “No, I do not know what he is, and that is what makes it difficult for me to pass judgment.”
“But you know he is a just man who has wrought good works throughout the land. You know he has committed no crime that requires severe punishment.”
“They are calling him an insurgent. If he is seen as a threat to Rome, I cannot allow him to live.”
“But you know that is not the truth!”
Pilate looked away from her for a long moment. He took a deep breath before facing his wife. “Claudia, I am in torment. This man defies all Roman reason and logic. Every philosophy I have ever studied is challenged by this situation that we face. My heart and my gut tell me he is innocent and I should not condemn an innocent man.”
“Then do not! Why is that so difficult? You have the power to save him, Pontius. Save the man who gave us back our son.”
Pilate ran his hands over his face to push the sweat away. “It is difficult because Herod calls for his execution, and he is calling for it early in the day.”
“Herod is a jackal.”
“True, but he is a jackal who departs for Rome this evening and has the power to destroy me with Caesar if I displease him. This man can bring us down, Claudia. Is it worth it? Is the life of one more Jewish insurgent worth throwing away our future?”
“He is not an insurgent!” Claudia cried.
They were interrupted by the envoy of Herod, who called Pilate back to the tribunal space. As he turned to leave his wife, Claudia grabbed him by the arm.
“Pontius, I had a terrible dream last night. Please, I fear for you and for Pilo if you do not save this man. The wrath of God will fall upon us all.”
“Perhaps. But which God? Am I to believe that the God of the Jews holds sway over Rome?” he questioned. As the other men called for him to return to the seat of judgment, Pilate looked intently at his wife. “This is a dilemma, Claudia. The most challenging I have ever faced. Do not think that I feel this burden any less than you do.”
He returned to the dais to question the prisoner as Claudia watched from behind the curtain.
“The chief priests of your nation have delivered you to me, asking for your death,” Pilate said to his Nazarene prisoner. “What have you done? Are you the king of the Jews?”
Easa answered with his usual calm. A stranger watching would never guess that his life was forfeit based on the answer. “Do you ask this question yourself, because of what you know of me? Or did others tell you this of me?”
“Answer the question. Are you a king? If you say you are not, I shall give you back to the priests to charge under your own laws.”
Jonathan Annas jumped in at this. “We have no laws to put a man to death, procurator. This is why we have come to you. If he were not a malefactor and dangerous, we would never have bothered your excellency with this matter.”
“The prisoner will answer the question,” Pilate said, ignoring Annas.
Easa did so, looking only at Pilate. As Claudia watched the exchange she ha
d a strong sense that the two of them did not see or hear the others in the room. What was playing out was between the two of them alone, a dance of destiny and faith that would change the world. Claudia felt it in the shiver that ran through her body.
“I came into the world that I may show people The Way of God and bear witness to the truth.”
The Roman philosopher in Pilate jumped at this. “Truth,” he mused. “Tell me Nazarene, what is truth?”
The two of them stared at each other for a long time, locked in their intertwined fates. Pilate broke the gaze and turned to the priests.
“I’ll tell you what is true. The truth is that I find no fault in this man at all.”
Pilate was interrupted by the announcement of an arrival. The proceedings stopped as Jairus entered the room and greeted the other priests. He apologized to Pilate for his late entrance, citing urgent Passover business.
“Good Jairus.” Pilate was relieved to see the envoy who had become his friend. They had a shared secret, and each man knew it of the other. “I have informed your brothers here that I see no fault in this man and I cannot pass judgment on him.”
Jairus nodded sagely. “I see.”
Caiaphas shot a look at Jairus and said, “You know how dangerous this man is.”
Jairus looked at his brother priest and back at Pilate, trying with all his might not to look at the prisoner. “But it is Passover, my brothers. A time for justice and peace among our people.” To Pilate he said, “You know of our custom at this time of year?”
Pilate caught a glimpse of what Jairus was trying to do and seized the opportunity. “Yes, of course. Each year at this time I allow your people to choose one prisoner to receive clemency and release. Shall we take this prisoner out to the people and ask for their point of view?”
“Excellent!” Jairus said. He knew that Caiaphas and Annas were cornered and could not refuse this generous offer from Rome. He also knew that the crowd was stacked with supporters of the high priests — and more than a few mercenaries who had been well paid to create a mob scene against the Nazarene if such a thing proved necessary. Jairus could only hope that the Nazarenes and their supporters had arrived by now and brought their own followers in great numbers.
Pilate signaled to the centurions to bring the prisoner out onto the rampart walls. Caiaphas and Annas excused themselves, indicating that they could not be seen in the presence of the Romans this morning, but would return once the decision had been made to release a prisoner. Pilate suspected the high priests were rushing to secure their position with their followers in the mob, but could do nothing about it. Jairus caught his eye as he, too, excused himself. The two men exchanged a meaningful look just before each turned to perform their duties.
Pilate made the Passover announcement before the swelling crowd. “You have a custom,” his voice rang out in the Jerusalem morning, “that I shall release unto you one of the prisoners in honor of your Passover.” Easa was dragged up roughly alongside Pilate. The procurator glared at Longinus for his unnecessary brutality. “Enough,” he hissed under his breath before returning to the crowd. “Shall I release this man, the king of the Jews?”
There was frenetic activity in the crowd as raised voices battled over each other to be heard. A distinct voice yelled, “We have no king but Caesar!” Another called, “Release Barabbas the Zealot.” This suggestion was met with cries of approval in the crowd.
Valiant voices cried out, “Release the Nazarene,” but to no avail. The followers of the Temple had been well coached, and the chant to release Barabbas swelled to a great roar. “Barabbas! Barabbas! Barabbas!”
Pilate had no option but to release the prisoner called for by the crowd. Barabbas the Zealot was set free to celebrate Passover, and Easa the Nazarene was sentenced to be scourged.
Claudia Procula intercepted her husband as he descended the ramparts. “You will scourge him?”
“Peace, woman!” Pilate snapped, pulling her roughly to the side. “I will beat him publicly and have Longinus and Praetorus make a show of it. It is our last chance to save his life. Perhaps that will satisfy their blood lust and they will cease to scream for his crucifixion.” He sighed hard, releasing his grasp on his wife. “It’s all I have left, Claudia.”
“And if it’s not enough?”
“Don’t ask the question if you don’t want the answer.”
Claudia nodded. She had suspected as much. “Pontius, I would ask one further thing of you. This man’s family — his wife and his children — are at the rear of the fortress. I would have you delay the scourging just long enough for him to see them. It may be his last chance to speak with his loved ones. Please.”
Pilate nodded curtly. “I’ll hold them off, but not for long. I’ll have Praetorus take the prisoner. He is trustworthy where your Nazarene is concerned. I will send Longinus to prepare for the public display.”
Pontius Pilate was true to his word and allowed Easa to be taken to quarters at the rear of the fortress for a brief meeting with Mary and the children. Easa embraced Little John and Tamar, telling them both to be very brave and to take care of their mother. He kissed both of them and said, “Remember, my little ones, no matter what happens, I will be with you always.”
When their time was nearly gone he embraced Mary Magdalene one final time. “Listen to me, my dove. This is very important. When I have left my body of flesh, you must not cling to me. You must let me go with the understanding that I am always with you in spirit. Close your eyes, and I am there.”
She attempted to smile through her tears, trying so hard to be brave. Her heart was shattered, and she was numb with pain and terror, but she would not show him that. Her strength was the final gift she could give him.
Praetorus arrived in the room then to take Easa away. The centurion’s blue eyes were ringed in red. Easa saw this and comforted the man. “Do what you must.”
“You will regret that you healed this hand,” the centurion said, choking on the words.
Easa shook his head. “No. I would rather know that the man on the other end was a friend. Know now that I forgive you. But please, may I have one more moment?”
Praetorus nodded and left to wait outside.
Easa turned to the children and put his hand to his heart. “Remember, I am right here. Always.” They both nodded solemnly, John’s dark eyes huge and grave, little Tamar’s filled with tears if not with understanding of the dire situation.
He turned then to Mary and whispered. “Promise me you will not let them see anything else that happens today. And I would not want you to witness what happens next. But at the end…”
She did not let him finish. She grabbed him and held him tightly to her for one last moment, searing into her brain and body exactly what he felt like in the flesh. She would hold this last memory to her for as long as she lived. “I will be there for you,” she whispered. “No matter what.”
“Thank you, my Mary,” he said as he pulled away from her gently. He spoke his final words to her with a smile, as if he would be back for dinner at the end of the afternoon.
“You will not miss me because I will not be gone. It will be better than it is now, because we will never be apart after this.”
Mary and the children were led from the rear of the Fortress Antonia by Claudia Procula’s Greek slave. Mary asked to meet Claudia and thank her in person, but the slave shook his head and spoke to her in his native tongue.
“My mistress is much distressed by the events of this day. She tells me she cannot face you. She tried everything she knew to save him.”
“Tell her I know that. And Easa knows as well. And tell her that I hope one day we will meet and I will be able to look into her face and give her my thanks, and his.”
The Greek nodded humbly, and left to attend his mistress.
Mary and the children emerged into the chaos that was Jerusalem on this holy Friday. She needed to get the children away from this area, needed to get as far away as possible before th
e sounds of the scourging reached their ears. The safe house that Salome had provided was nearby. Mary decided to go there to find Martha and instruct her to get the children back to Bethany.
The Great Mary and the two elder Marys were at the house, but Martha was not. She was out searching for the Magdalene and the children, not realizing that they were coming back to the house. Mary Magdalene had the difficult task of relaying the morning’s events to Easa’s mother. The Great Mary nodded, tears filling her aging eyes that held so much wisdom and compassion. “He saw this long ago. We both saw it,” she said finally.
The women made the decision to face the mob in Jerusalem. They would find Martha and see that John and Tamar were taken to safety — and then they would find Easa. If he were to be sentenced and crucified today, they would not leave him. Mary had promised. He had asked only for her and for his mother in these final hours.
As they prepared to leave the house, the Great Mary came to her daughter-in-law holding the rich red veil of their rank. She handed it to Mary Magdalene. “Wear this, my daughter. You are a Nazarene and a queen, now more than ever.”
Nodding slowly, Mary Magdalene took the full-length red veil and draped it over her body, fully aware as she did that her life on earth would never be the same again.
“Crucify him! Crucify him!” The crowd swelled with the chant. Pilate watched with a mixture of helplessness and disgust. The vicious bloodletting of the Nazarene had not satisfied them. Indeed, it had functioned only to urge the mob into more of a frenzy as they called for the prisoner’s life. A man had come forward carrying a crown twisted from the razor-sharp branches of a whitethorn tree. He threw it at Easa, who was still slumped against the whipping post, back laid open to the glaring morning sun. “Here’s your crown, if you are a king,” the man yelled as the crowd laughed derisively.
Praetorus unshackled Easa and was in the process of moving him from the whipping post when Longinus picked up the crown of thorns and shoved it cruelly onto Easa’s head. The flesh of his scalp and forehead ripped, causing blood mixed with sweat to pour into his eyes as the hostile crowd whooped approval. “That is enough, Longinus!” Praetorus growled at his watch partner.
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