“Is there a problem?” Cicero asked calmly.
“We’ve got this under control,” the decurion replied indignantly.
Cicero then walked over to the prisoner, who was motionless and silent. “What happened here?” he asked, noting the man’s purple cheek and eye that was swelling shut.
“This man is our prisoner,” one of the Sanhedrin guards responded quickly. “He is accused of treason and blasphemy!”
“Accused but not convicted,” Cicero replied. “Explain the marks on his face.” He knew it was hypocritical for him to broach this subject, given that Roman legionaries never shied from physically abusing prisoners, even before conviction.
And yet, the Sanhedrin guard was suddenly silent.
“I told you, we have this under control!” the decurion suddenly interrupted.
Cicero grabbed the man by the shoulder and led him aside. “Let me be very clear,” he said in a low voice, “You do not ever try and undermine me in front of these people! I need not remind you that as a legionary decanus I am the senior ranking here.” “And now comes our officer who is senior to you,” the auxiliary said with a sneer.
Cicero looked over his should as Centurion Abenader walked into the hall.
“What’s going on here?” Abenader asked.
“Just a minor disturbance over a local religious matter,” the decurion replied.
“More like a fucking riot about to start!” Cicero retorted. “I want to know why these people are holding a tribunal in the middle of the night.”
“Whatever it is I’m sure my men can handle it, sergeant,” the auxilia centurion said with a slight trace of disdain in his voice. The ever-present strain that existed between Abenader and Centurion Artorius often carried over when each had to interact with the other’s soldiers.
“Then why are you here, sir?” Cicero’s question caught Abenader off guard.
But instead of answering, he walked over to Caiaphas. The glares from the rest of the Sanhedrin filled the room with a noticeable tension. Whatever pleasure they may have gotten from watching the Romans argue amongst themselves was overshadowed by their intense hatred of them.
“A bit late for a religious trial,” the centurion observed.
“There is more to this than you need to worry yourself over,” Caiaphas replied. “This man has broken our laws, and we will deal with him accordingly.”
“But has he broken Roman laws?” Cicero spoke up. He expected another rebuke from Abenader, but the auxiliary centurion simply nodded.
“The sergeant is correct,” he said to Caiaphas.
“This man is claiming to be the Son of God,” the priest answered. “This is not only a gross defamation of our laws, but any man professing to be a deity and a king is in direct defiance of Roman rule.”
“Alright,” Abenader conceded. “But let him be tried before Pontius Pilate. If, indeed, he is seeking to make himself king, then he has committed high treason. However, it is not within the authority of this tribunal to pass guilt or innocence.”
“Very well,” Caiaphas said with a nod. “Let the procurator be his judge.”
Abenader sent word to Pilate that night, warning him of the Sanhedrin trial and that the situation required his jurisdiction. The next morning the procurator had the prisoner brought before him at the Praetorium, a set of stairs which Pilate had his seat of judgment placed, at the Antonia Fortress. Artorius and Justus accompanied him, along with a number of freedmen, clerks, and legionaries.
“So who is this faux ‘king’ that Caiaphas is bringing before me?” Pilate asked as they crossed through the atrium towards the Praetorium.
“It is the teacher we’ve been hearing about, sir,” Abenader replied, “Jesus of Nazareth.”
These words caused all the men to stop abruptly.
“It can’t be,” Justus said quietly.
“I thought you said he was a harmless preacher who told the masses to pay their taxes?” Pilate said in rebuke to his centurion.
“I did,” Justus replied. “And yes, he did say those words. I cannot believe the man who told the people to love their enemies would be guilty of subversion against Rome!”
“That will be for me to find out,” Pilate said, as the men finished the short walk.
Waiting for them were Caiaphas, various members of the Sanhedrin, and the man whom the procurator had wanted to meet for some time, yet now was placed in a position to decide whether he lived or died.
“So this is the man you say wishes to make himself king,” Pilate stated.
“Yes, procurator,” Caiaphas replied.
Pilate then noted the bruising on the Nazarene’s face. “And you bring this man before me, already physically chastised before guilt has been proven?”
“Apologies, procurator,” the high priest said with a bow. He was clearly being patronizing, which angered Pilate considerably.
“Have you nothing to say for yourself?” Pilate asked the Nazarene. When the man remained silent, he then looked back to Caiaphas. “What crimes has he been charged with?”
“Three crimes,” Caiaphas explained. “The first is perverting our sacred nation; the second is compelling the people to refuse to pay tribute; the third, and most severe for your Excellency, is sedition against the Roman Empire.”
“Indeed,” Pilate said, still keeping his eyes focused on the Nazarene. “You say this man is from Nazareth, which is in Galilee. That makes him a subject of Herod’s. Let Herod deal with him. I’ll have no part in this.” As he turned around, Pilate was shocked to see his wife standing in the atrium, watching the entire spectacle.
“The trip to Tiberias will take at least a week!” Caiaphas protested.
“Well, fortunately, Herod just happens to be in Jerusalem for the Passover, on my personal invitation,” Pilate retorted, turning back around. “I would think you’d be aware of the arrival of your actual king, were you not too busy trying to root out false ones.”
Caiaphas looked crestfallen, clearly wishing to have the issue with Jesus of Nazareth decided already.
Pilate then looked to Artorius. “Have him taken to Herod. Let him pass guilt or innocence and decide what is to be done.”
“I will take him personally,” Justus said quickly.
Pilate gave him a puzzled look, but thought no more about it when Artorius simply nodded his consent.
As a squad of legionaries led the Nazarene away, Valens whispered to Artorius, “I’ll go, too.”
His centurion gazed at him with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t need you causing another diplomatic incident,” he replied.
The moment of levity was short-lived. More of Caiaphas’ supporters from the Sanhedrin and Pharisees had arrived and were crowding the area known as the Pavement just outside the Praetorium.
Pilate left through the atrium, where he was met by his wife, who bore a look of deep consternation.
“My love, I beg you,” she said, “Do not have anything to do with this man! I had a horrid dream last night on account of him. He is innocent of what the Sanhedrin accused him of, and I suffered much in my dreams because of this.”
“It’s alright, my dear,” Pilate said, placing both hands on Claudia’s shoulders. “I’ve sent him to Herod Antipas. Even if he does find this Jesus of Nazareth guilty, he cannot pass capital sentence on him, only I can. So not to worry, the Nazarene’s life is quite safe.”
The palace used by Herod was located in an upscale community not far from the Antonia Fortress. Herod had acquired the entire building for his stay during Passover. A messenger had been dispatched and reported back that the Judean king was anxious to finally meet Jesus of Nazareth. Given the gravity of the situation, plus Valens’ promise to be on his best behavior, Artorius had relented and let him accompany Justus.