A troop of praetorians marched into the courtyard with the thud of measured steps and then snapped to attention. A blistering trumpet call sounded. Squaring themselves into ranks, they extended their arms in a stiff salute and cried, “Hail Caesar! Hail Caesar! Hail Caesar!” again and again.
Scarcely trusting his eyes or ears, Pilate could hardly absorb the news. Tiberius was dead. The focus of his anxieties, dead. The man who threatened his life and fortunes, dead. He luxuriated in relief at the incredible turn of events. No confrontation with an angry emperor! Probably a quashing of Vitellius’s indictment against him, as Caligula’s new regime began with clean slates. The tension which had been building ever since his citation to Rome now dissolved in a flood of joy. “Hail Caesar. Hail Caesar!” he joined in.
The praetorian prefect found Pilate in that properly patriotic pose. “You’re Pontius Pilate, aren’t you?” asked Macro.
“Yes, worthy Macro. Congratulations on the new princeps.”
“Coincidence that you should arrive just as Tiberius died. He was rather angry at you after reading Vitellius’s report.”
“I am prepared at any time to offer a full defense of my conduct.”
“It’s impossible,” Macro said, “to decide on any hearing now, or even if there will be a hearing.”
“Certainly.” Pilate noticed that the prefect was extremely nervous.
“You’ll be in Rome?” Macro inquired.
“Yes.”
“I’ll discuss it with the new princeps after he has taken office. We’ll let you know.”
“Vale, my Prefect.” They exchanged salutes.
Pilate went in to pay his respects to the body of the dead Tiberius. His relief confirmed by the unforgettable image of the waxen corpse being prepared for state funeral, he hurried back to Caudium in a triumphant mood.
Procula wept for joy at the news. Together they finished the final leg of their journey to Rome, where they were feted at a second glad reception at the home of her aging but elated parents, the Gaius Proculeii.
Chapter 23
Tiberius was dead, and Rome broke into a carnival atmosphere at the news. People rushed into the Forum shouting, “Hook his body down the Stairs of Mourning!” Some openly thanked the goddess Roma for having delivered her city from the last feeble grasp of the tyrant. Others implored Mother Earth to allow his shade no rest until it had descended to its proper domicile of the damned. Though one of Rome’s ablest administrators, Tiberius had sacrificed his popularity by parsimony, his long self-exile on Capri, and, above all, by the dangerous legal climate.
This is why the Senate and the Roman People united to pin their hopes on the popular prince Gaius Caligula. His father Germanicus had been both saint and martyr in the cult of the Roman state; his mother Agrippina and his two brothers had been persecuted and killed. “Little Boots” was the last member of a family nearly extincted by a fate from which they had deserved far better, in the popular mind. Therefore when Caligula escorted the body of Tiberius from Misenum to Rome, the roadsides were framed with decorated altars blazing with sacred torches. Masses of citizens were present to welcome the new princeps. Rome had become a mother, lavishing her vast maternal instincts on a new hero-son.
Technically, Tiberius’s will had named Caligula co-regent with Gemellus, another younger grandson. But the Senate disregarded that testament in the name of Caligula’s obvious popularity and now unanimously conferred full and absolute power on him. For Roman livestock it was something of an unparalleled tragedy; more than 160,000 animals were sacrificed over the next weeks to implore an auspicious reign for Caligula.
Whether or not in answer to such prayers, the new princeps began very well indeed. With proper reverence, he eulogized Tiberius at a magnificent state funeral in Rome, and when the flaming pyre had consumed the body, he carried the ashes to the circular mausoleum of Augustus. He did the same for the remains of his mother and brothers, crossing over to the islands of exile and personally reposing their urns in the same tomb as that of the man who had banished them. He renamed the month of September “Germanicus,” an added filial touch.
Caligula revived republican-style elections, granted more authority to the Senate, and even recirculated republican writings which had been suppressed under Tiberius. Of paramount interest to Pilate was Caligula’s policy of recalling exiles who had been banished and dismissing indictments against all who were awaiting trial on political charges. He also publicly burned documents relating to former suits and warned informers that their field day was over. Quite naturally, the Romans greeted these policies with unrestrained enthusiasm.
Further enhancing this popularity, Caligula canceled certain taxes while extending government generosity in staging free public shows, races, and gladiatorial combats. He also took a renewed interest in the equestrians, a class Tiberius had largely ignored. And so the day came when the Gaius Proculeii, the Pontius Pilati, and other prominent equestrian families in Rome were invited by the young emperor to a lavish banquet in his Palatine palace. It was here that Macro formally introduced Pilate to Caligula for the first time.
Said the princeps, “Oh yes, Pontius Pilatus. I would like to speak to you sometime soon concerning Judea.”
“I stand at your disposal, Princeps,” replied Pilate.
This was the extent of their brief exchange, but it was enough to churn Pilate’s emotions. He had hoped that with the new regime there would be no review of his case. And yet, if Pilate wished to advance in Roman government, and he still did, then the cloud on his record would necessarily have to be dispelled before he gained higher office. And since the youthful Caligula seemed a fair and rational sort, unlike Tiberius, the latter prospect grew more attractive.
Pilate decided to clean his slate. After getting his papers in order, he consulted with his second cousin, Gaius Pontius Nigrinus, who was one of the consuls for the year, and then planned to ask Macro to institute a hearing before the emperor at his earliest convenience.
But Caligula and Macro anticipated him by several days, since the Samaritan delegation, delayed by the change of government, had now arrived. Pilate cursed his luck for not having seized the initiative a bit earlier. It would have looked handsomer if he as the defendant had called for his own trial. He was summoned to the Palatine early in June of 37 to answer the charges against him.
The hearing before Caligula took place in a glittering and pillared hall of the Palatine palace overlooking the Forum directly to the north. Pilate had not brought counsel with him, since his ten years on the bench were more than enough schooling in Roman law. At first, Pontius Nigrinus had volunteered to accompany him to the hearing, but, on second thought, they both decided against it. As consul, Nigrinus would have been preceded by ten lictors, which the young Caligula might have misunderstood as attempted intimidation. It would also have enlarged the scope of a hearing Pilate wished contained. The only person he brought along was one defense witness, the tribune of Judea’s Italian Cohort, who was in Rome on furlough.
What surprised Pilate was the small number in the Samaritan delegation, just four, and the fact that Caligula had someone else sitting with him on the dais, obviously an important friend, judging from the purple splashing about his costume. He had a Semitic look about him, incongruous with the Romans in the room, but akin to the four Samaritans. Or were there five? An erect and distinguished-looking man in rich attire now joined them.