Fifth Gospel(136)

More and more joined in and drowned out the voices of Jesus’ supporters until the din was unbearable.

Cassius realised the reason for Pilate’s questions on the Sicarri now and the significance of it made the blood drain from his head.

Having first ascertained that there were no Sicarri present Pilate had made a gamble. He had gambled that the coins that were paid to this rabble would lose their lustre the moment the people were given the choice between freeing Jesus or the infamously despised creature responsible for the bloodshed of their kin. What Pilate could not have known was that he had gambled on the word of a blind man.

Pilate’s voice spoke plainly of his amazement, and his annoyance, ‘Which man?’

‘Bar Abbas!’

‘You wish to release this filthy criminal, this murderer who killed your own people?’

‘Bar Abbas!’

‘What then shall you have me do with the prisoner, Jesus of Nazareth?’

Ananias now provided guidance to the throngs, ‘Crucify him!’

A chorus of yells and screams and vociferations now rang out and echoed in the court. The crowd swelled forward with excitement and vengeance, forcing the guards on the steps to pull up their shields and use them as weapons.

‘No!’ Pilate said, and it sounded impetuous, ‘No! I will have him scourged…then we shall see what you think of it!’

He made a gesture to Septimus, the man who had been Cassius’ optio years ago, but was now advanced. Pilate leant into him to whisper in his ear and after that he told his men to take Jesus of Nazareth to the forum where he would suffer his sentence.

Cassius came to Pilate. ‘I will go down with them to moderate the men.’

‘No.’ Pilate told him. ‘There will be no moderation. He must be sufficiently punished or they will seek his crucifixion. I want you to go to the fortress instead, gather all the soldiery at our disposal and return immediately, I sense that this day shall not end well!’

‘But who will control the executioners? They are blooded animals and when they are encouraged they will not easily give a moment’s pause for your orders.’

‘Septimus will do it.’

Cassius said under his breath, ‘That man loves blood more than all of them combined!’

‘That is why I have chosen him,’ Pilate said, ‘when they see what Septimus can make of Jesus of Nazareth this miserable crowd will surely not seek more!’

Pilate left, and Gaius Cassius stood upon an uncertain moment. He looked out to the crowds through the broken haze of his eyes and watched the form of the Nazarene make his abused way through the archway to the forum. There, surrounded by the lustful crowd the guards prepared to chain him naked to a pillar.

Public and terrible was this punishment.

The scourges were made of leather thongs and armed with nails and spikes and bones. They tore strips of flesh from the back, the chest, the groin and the face until the prisoner was left an unrecognisable mass of blood and torn flesh.

Gaius Cassius was weary. He was too old for this. In his heart there was no thrill, no anticipation, no rush of excitement at the prospect of such a spectacle of blood. He felt a particle of discomfort settle in his bones.

All was dust and shadow. He told himself.

But it did not suffice.

He looked at the young soldiers, eager for the show to begin. They would see it for themselves in time how the years passed before their eyes until one day they would find themselves standing upon the Pavement of Rome. They would find themselves sour in the belly and weary of this god-forsaken outpost at the end of the world and yet incapable of living elsewhere.

He let the thought of it sink into his mettle and sensing the eye of Claudia Procula on the back of his head he made a grunt and took himself through the court and onward to his duty.

But not before he found Abenader and told him what he must do.





67


WATER OF LIFE




Magdalena had been with the Mother of her Lord throughout the ordeal of the morning. The various proceedings, the noise and hatred of the crowds, the humiliation and the mockery had wrung from her soul so many woes that she did not think herself capable of feeling more. She recalled to her mind the Mother’s words, that they must remain awake and that they must endure all that he was enduring. But was it possible to do so? Had he asked too much? How could she bear to hear the imprecations and curses of those executioners when she could feel each blow of those instruments of torture as if they were tearing her own flesh?

She looked at the short, burly men, blunt of head and broad of shoulders. They wore a mix of hatred and pleasure on their faces as they struck her Lord. They tired easily, due to the ferocity of their blows and were soon replaced by others who were no less like animals.