He looked about him. His eyes had turned bad since his failed initiation those years ago and had grown worse each year, so that now he saw the world through a brown haze. This loss, though debilitating, had not prevented him from doing his duty, for he had grown skilful at finding ways around it. And yet, as his outer eyes had begun to see less and less of the content of the world around him, in the same measure did his inner eyes begin to see more and more of the content of his soul, and this, more than anything, had not pleased him.
During the tedium of his days in Jerusalem, he had tried to dull this inner eye with wine and women and gambling. But the numbness occasioned by these diversions had not lasted, it had only served to make him feel more keenly the dishonour and shame of a man who lives a borrowed life, an undeserved life.
He grumbled and took a glance behind him to the chariot carrying Claudia Procula. He could not see her face clearly, only the outlines and the general form of it, but his inner eye knew that she was beautiful, for her soul bespoke beauty.
Soon after Pontius Pilate had arrived in Judea he had given Cassius the charge of following his wilful wife and maintaining her safety. At first this assignment had made his temper disordered, for not only was it demeaning for a centurion of his calibre and experience to waste his time minding a stubborn woman, he also found it difficult to keep track of her with his worsening eyes, but not wishing to draw attention to the secret of his failing vision he had made the best of it.
In truth, he had never understood women and their ways, having spent most of his life in the military. They were creatures wholly foreign to his experience, good for distracting a man from boredom, dulling the bitterness of defeat, or helping him to celebrate a victory. As a centurion he was aware that it was good for his men to trade the glory of steel for the pleasure of skin and warmth from time to time, but he also knew that a woman was like wine, she could make a man forget the smell of blood and disappointment in the evening, but in the morning she was a headache and a bad taste in the mouth.
And yet, here was something new! As time passed, he began to welcome this diversion with the lady Claudia! He began to look forward to hearing from Susannah, her mistress, that Claudia was leaving the praetorium. At first all had gone smoothly, but Claudia Procula was an intelligent woman and soon came awake to his task. Perhaps, even in those early days, she had already made a guess at his malady for she was in the habit of losing him. He often wondered as he floundered in the crowds like a fish looking for water, if her eyes were observing him from some corner with merriment. Yes, he had become a plaything, blown by a woman’s will, like a feather in the wind.
In the end, though they never spoke of it, a quiet understanding had developed between them; she would not venture to dangerous places and he would let loose his rope a little and give her a small semblance of the liberty she craved. All had gone well, and in time even his esteem grew for her. For he realised that when Claudia ventured out of the palace, it was not always for her own pleasure, but also for the good of others. Often times she would take hampers of food which she would deposit at the mouth of leper caves, or which she would distribute among the poor.
Despite himself and beyond his true recognition of it, he had grown to love her. And as the years passed, with the lessening of his vision there grew a picture more vivid in his mind’s eye of her beauty, whose characteristics he recalled each night with great care – as if the image of her were a precious blade in need of a careful polish at the end of a day.
Now, upon this road to Capernaum, he wondered if he had given her too much rope.
Some time ago she had sought him out on the pretext of discussing the security of the household. Instead, she had ordered him to take her along when next he set off to find the man Jesus of Nazareth. Having such an order put to him by her in person had made him quite unable to speak. She had taken from him the self-possession to say no, so that a strange covenant was then added to their other unspoken agreements by virtue of his silence, which he could not later undo, without causing disrespect to her person.
Reason told him it was one thing to allow a woman some small indulgent freedoms, and quite another to take her on a stolen journey to Galilee, to hear Jesus of Nazareth speak, while the Governor was away, taking care of those duties pertaining to the running of his province. Where would such matters lead? He could not presage.
Such things were on his mind as they reached that place where Jesus was known to preach. When they found him, Cassius squinted to see. It was afternoon and the sky was like an ocean of red. He realised he could only make out the shape of a man standing among a great crowd on a hillside.