Pilate's Dilemma

CHAPTER ONE
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Riding an army horse taken with the end of his soldiering days, the guide led two security detectives that yesterday arrived from Rome. Ennius Sextus hired him during breakfast partly for information to be had concerning ex-Governor Pontius Pilate. That official was uncle to the traveler who had along his fellow soldier, Greek-born Dion Eros, to help as necessary. He led the two on horseback and showed soldierly deportment except for scratching a scraggly beard fairly often. Sextus, too, was not without discomfort—he rubbed his back grown sore from 30 days of riding. Sextus now doubted he’d win a sizable bet they’d made in Rome over which would last longer without complaint over a horse, the roads, or aches and pains.

While governor of Judea, Pontius Pilate heard Gaul suggested as a suitable retirement. He dismissed this, saying, “Too great a distance away from Rome.” However, as Caesar was losing confidence in the man’s abilities, Pontius Pilate reconsidered Gaul. On an expeditionary trip he selected this valley they rode to for beauty, the fertility and year-around water. From his building site Pontius Pilate looked maximally to the right and to the left and bought that much of the valley he saw; this necessitated that 20 farmers sell to him. He specified that the builders erect a massive one storey that presented a rock facade that compared with walls of Herod’s esteemed temple built now—but unadorned—in Jerusalem.

Pilate envisioned people would journey there to see his flowers blooming; he thought it fitting to rename the valley and the home “Spring’s Grandeur”. No longer would the valley have the reputation for its wheat and barley abundant harvests. No, the idea of Pontius Pilate’s was to each Spring hold a festival wherein: flowers would bloom, people would be fed, and spirits would be high. Then, yearly, attendance would increase, and with more splendor, even the bigger cities in Gaul would took notice. Pontius Pilate provided the food and drink the one year they had a festival, and his announcement proved premature that at the next festival there would be staged plays and music that would rival that heard in Rome! Most of the folk came 18 miles from the nearby town. They had enjoyed themselves but were leery to leave unattended their livelihoods for the week that Pontius Pilate wanted to celebrate. Three years ago Pontius Pilate learned from the townspeople attending that his prized house had an appearance more of just having “cropped up” than resemble an elegant building in the Near East. Its rock facade caused it to blend too well with the mountains surrounding, and this opinion of theirs and the complaint about the week’s time for a festival disappointed. Pilate gave up on having another and that people from far away would learn of it and come and attend.

The previous tillers of the soil were generational farmers, and they came asking Pontius Pilate whether they might not again be allowed to farm the land. However after promising to consider it, Pilate only let his thoughts dwell on Empire matters. He worried that it ‘was slipping’, and for this reason he summoned Sextus to come help.

The mountain pass opened and presented a vast panoramic view. It had a low ceiling of white clouds today. Eros and Sextus were refreshed, thinking how this valley seemed to extend ‘forever’ at its sides. But from the perspective of their imagination, the opposite side was so close it might be grabbed and pulled over by just reaching out! Their guide advised they must do this for themselves—it had been many years since he had his best strength!

Trees here easily acquired admiration from the viewers. They gave orderliness to the unending dark brown soil capping the valley floor. Eros maintained that trees knew when another grew near. Whether this may or may not be true, the three knew for certain that there had never been a night when wind, partnering with chance, blew in all these trees in their seed cones to be planted in the straight lines. The green beauties were standing tall in the protection of ground moisture and against any loss of topsoil as wind would carry it away. The soldiers were particularly aware of all the trees’ straightness, for they had spent many an hour forming up in lines for inspection. And each had respect for a farmer who could plant his crops and trees straight which gave testimony of an ability to manage a valley.

“Should I escort you further?” asked the guide. He expected an answer to come from Sextus who, all the day, had been the friendlier.

Yet it was Eros who, without looking, told, “You have done enough.”

“My pay will come from Vinius Gaius. May I wish for your eventful stay here, and upon the return, more of happy traveling?”

While Sextus smiled to think Not much harm in that request, Eros did not turn from his looking at the valley and estate of Pontius Pilate’s. He considered Pontius Pilate is known to be resolute, and his vindictiveness dished out down the years likely was a necessity for him. But I wonder how it “plays out” here? He remarked casually:

“That building never is going to be stormed.”

All agreed. This acreage was surrounded by a considerable wood fence and building itself fortified with a heavy rock facing. And at this distance—the top of their road down—his residence more had the appearance of being a military complex than the home of a Roman statesman. Eros had seen, in youth, many creatures of the sea with their shells formidable like this. Sextus was examining the descent. Wagons laden heavy with grain introduced ruts into the road and these might affect surefootedness from their mounts. Sextus, Eros saw, rubbed his back as if “anticipating pain” that would come from that remaining ride down.

The guide had an odd comment. “I suppose you have your wives? Earlier you asked how it was I came here for retirement, my not knowing a single person here. What I told about traveling through and remembering this particular spot... wasn’t true. Gaius Vinius knows the story, and I might as well tell it to you now. I met a fair-haired woman in Laodicea in the Syrian province who had come from here. She was giving typical pay-for-my-time entertainment. But she looked nice and still was sweet in some of her ways.”

Hermes’ hat! He’s married a whore, Eros scoffed under his breath and was not heard.

“There was time remaining—”

At this, Eros could not help but snicker audibly.

“—and we talked about places other than where we were and about things different from what we had been doing. She told how she came from the town nearby here, and I asked about her parents, brothers and sisters living. She said she had two—one sister who was widowed and the other had not yet married.” The guide eyed the soldiers here and was emphatic as he told, “Right then and there I decided to come here after retiring and have my pick of the two!”

Eros was curious. “How did she make her way to Laodicea?”

“It was a couple of merchants that took her off on a road that—so they promised—would allow her ‘seeing the world’.”

“And one by one,” Sextus, disgusted, sadly said, “the world saw her.”

No denying that,they all agreed.

Eros asked, “What happens if she ever returns? Remember you she might, and that’s the stir spoon to upset your porridge!”

The ex-soldier told discounted it, “We remember our whores. They, fortunately, forget us.”

“How was your meeting here arranged?” Sextus wanted to know. “And just how grand ‘a story’ did you have to tell?” he added.

“No ‘story’ at all, really.” The guide circled his hand around broadly over his head. “I told her family I wanted to live my days out where it was beautiful, green and free from the officers’ orders—no offense, gentlemen. I explained that I had money from retirement, and at 50 I had no fear of working.”

“I’ll marry you,” Eros quipped. But he kept looking out on the valley only.

“So when you arrived,” Sextus was asking, “you made it your business to meet the ladies as if it was by chance?”

He nodded. Eros missed that answer and remarked, “That must have been some woman to bring you all the way here, from Syria.” He was thinking about traveling to Laodicea.

The guide briefly laughed and that became the answer.

Sextus wanted to guess: “I’ll bet you’ve never told the family about how you knew the sister.”

“No. I never did.”

Eros asked, “Which one did you marry? I’ll say it was: the first sister you saw on arriving to the town!”

Their guide wanted them to know that there was more to it than mere chance. He shook his head, and thoughtfully he said, “I looked at her boy. Ten he was then—now he’s fifteen. You know, he looked like me in a few ways: color of the hair, basic build, smile—he’s got more teeth! And I thought people might come to see me, someday, as the father. I asked her to marry, that one who had the boy. She’s kindly, content with me. The lad often takes care of the horse. I taught him some of the soldiering ways. Her sister, ‘turns out, has since married. But they are without children—I think I have the better situation.”

Sextus dropped into vernacular to say, “You remind me of me 20 years from now!

“Vinius Gaius is who you’ll first be wanting to see,” the old one told. “Pilate seems to rely on him for everything. And though I’ve been inside once, I’ve never seen the man—and he’s the most famous resident Gaul has. Others have.” He paused, then resumed, “Rome’s Governor for Judea. The Emperor’s Procurator there too (they knew he was the financial overseer). No,” the man tried to make comedy with his voice, “Pilate doesn’t have Palestine troops at his disposal here, but he does have a great deal of their money!” It was a chop and a good one—worth a laugh.

Eros wondered about his mentioning “troops” but did not ask; he had laughed over the “Palestine’s money” comment!

Ennius Sextus thought this tone of the guide’s improper, and the comment to be uncharitable. It irritated, too, to hear how Pontius Pilate was merely referred to here, and in town, by “Pilate”, the given name. By omitting the saying the family name “Pontius”, when they had not known him personally, the townspeople were being callus, overly-familiar. He thought Vinius Gaius may have begun the abbreviated use by casually referring to “Pilate” in the town, and he would discuss the matter with him, in due time. But meanwhile, Sextus showed moderate dissatisfaction with the guide by the sternness of facial expression.

”If there is to be nothing more...” the guide spoke but his voice trailed off, for Sextus paid him no attention—and Eros never had. But he did look then to Eros and he hopefully said, “You’ll tell ‘ole Gaius’ I guided you well?” His eyebrows were raised in expectation.

Would Eros ever let him lower them again? It was Sextus to finally condescend and give him reply (for, at least they weren’t calling his uncle in town ‘ole Pilate’ yet!)

“I’ll commend you. Yes. You never let us stray from the trail.”

The guide appreciated Sextus’ smile. In turn, he explained, “A ‘good word’ keeps me coming here. I do like the view. And, as well, I need the money.” In the last look out, he wistfully told, “I hope it’s not always left in fallow this way.”

Weeds were growing well in places; some of them enough so, they might now be called “bushes”. Everywhere the dark, tilled soil was waiting. The farm houses looked as vacant as when birds have flown their cages. Outside the fence perimeter this land was not even used for a garden.

Eros postulated, “The Governor has no need of money—he just needs to have that desire to spend some.” Definitely, Eros did not approve of the squatters’ huts inside to be seen; these added to the squalor surrounding the house. “And to speak of ‘commendation’,” Eros said, “I wish ‘Vinius Gaius’ did his job better here!”

Sextus thought he saw movement in the enclosure and told Eros.

“May gods you serve keep their close watch over you,” the guide offered with a departing salute. Then he let it rise midair to show his feeling they had the ascendancy here.

It may have been that Eros disliked to even have a guide, or perhaps it was that he had not given credence before to a possibility that Zeus or Apollo caring much for individuals—but he did not acknowledge the salute nor the accompanying farewell wish. Were it not for having a packhorse in tow this trip, Eros would have been making his own trail here the entire way! Sextus, though, returned the salute. With this, the guide was satisfied; for, he’d had good results with his day. With the rein of his horse around he began the not-too-a-distance ride back home.

Eros was critical of Sextus’ probable inheritance here—he had those squatters in mind—as he asked, “If this is to be your inheritance—” The nephew of the ex-Governor was aware of Eros’ meaning in that rhetorical saying of his, but this patrician-born officer likewise felt free to answer:

”Uncle has other properties—better-kept ones, I’m told.” This he had learned while visiting a particular Apollo temple in Rome where the deed records were kept.

They traveled farther. Half the way down, the bet came into play; yet it was neither Sextus nor Eros to be winning. At one point Sextus complained for his pain, but this was at a switchback turn and Eros was being critical of the road. The two looked at each other and pointed as though “they’d caught” the other as if to say You lose! But with these circumstances they had to agree their bet was now voided, and it was good for a laugh!

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