The Redemption of Pontius Pilate (18 page)

Sejanus bowed deeply. “Rest assured, Caesar, Rome will still tremble when the name of Tiberius is spoken!” he said.

Pilate also bowed, albeit less obsequiously. “I shall keep a close eye in all the affairs of the Senate, sir,” he said, “and I shall keep you informed of all matters as events may warrant. You know that I have had some success in the past in making your burdens a bit lighter. It shall be my privilege to do so again, if it is necessary.”

Tiberius nodded, then stretched and yawned. “Sejanus, I need to confer with Pilate about some family matters,” he said. “Would you please excuse us?”

The Prefect of the Praetorian Guard rose and bowed. Tiberius turned and looked at Pilate. “Walk with me to my balcony,” he said. “The moon is rising over Our Sea.” Together they walked out of the study and onto the massive stone balcony that looked westward, across the quicksilver waters of the Mediterranean. Tiberius leaned out over the rails for a moment, then quickly turned and surveyed the balcony all down its length, and looked at the windows around it. Finally he peeked through the curtains back into his study. Then he approached Pilate and leaned close. When he spoke, his voice was a soft but urgent whisper.

“All that I just said is true,” he told Pilate. “But I will add one other charge to your list of responsibilities. Watch Sejanus! He is thinking to elevate himself by marrying Livilla Julia and setting up her brats as my heirs. I am biding my time and waiting to compass his downfall, but any information that you can gather that will give me just cause for his removal will be most welcome. Macro is a much more decent and loyal soldier; I will be elevating him to take Sejanus' place one of these days.”

Pilate nodded. He had never liked Sejanus, but he still chose his words carefully. “All you command I will do, Caesar,” he said. “But if I may add a small word of advice—be cautious! Sejanus is clever and ruthless. If he believes you intend to remove him, I would not put it past him to try and strike first.”

“Don't think I haven't considered that,” said Tiberius. “I live on my guard every day. But here on Capri, I am safer than I am in Rome. My servants here are chosen most carefully, and are loyal to me, not him. I think. I suppose I cannot be too sure of anyone, though, can I?”

Pilate gave him a long, careful glance. “You know that you may always count on my loyalty, Tiberius Caesar,” he said.

“You know, Lucius Pontius, I actually believe you!” said Tiberius, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Now go and get a good night's rest!”

The next morning Pilate and his family woke not long after sunrise. The sky was clear of clouds and a light south wind promised a warm and lovely day. A servant brought them hot bread and cold juice for breakfast, and a note from the Emperor stating that he was going to be occupied all morning, and inviting them to enjoy the island's beauty until the evening meal. Pilate pulled on a sturdy pair of sandals and invited his wife and daughter to walk down to the harbor with him. They set out with no particular goal, simply enjoying the sunshine and each other's company. As they passed through the atrium, young Caligula spotted them.

“Good morning!” he said. “I think Caesar is sleeping in today; he has one of his headaches. What are you doing for the morning?”

“We are going for a walk,” said Pilate.

The young Caesar nodded. He was leaning on a display case where a large group of flint knives, anywhere from four to eight inches long, were resting. Porcia Minor noticed them and stepped forward for a closer look.

“What on earth are those?” she said.

“They were found fifty years ago, when the foundations for this villa were being dug,” said Gaius. “There were some enormous bones with them, but those have almost all crumbled away. The locals say that they were crafted by a race of giants who lived here thousands of years ago.”

She stared at the sharp blades with interest. “I have heard tales of giants, but I always thought they were mythical,” she said.

“They may well be,” said Caligula. “That is just a tale the locals tell.” He looked at Porcia and smiled. “I am going fishing with some of the village children before they catch the boat for home. Would you like to join me—if it's all right with your
paterfamilias
?” he asked with a sidelong glance at Pilate.

Pilate looked at his wife, who gave him a slight frown. “Will there be adults with you?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, grandfather does not allow us to go near the cliffs without slaves to help us bring the fish in and Praetorians to keep an eye on things,” said Caligula with seeming sincerity. About that time several of the older boys and girls from the night before came down the steps, with fishing lines and hooks. Two servants brought up the rear.

Pilate smiled. “Be careful, Porcia, and bring me a big fish!” he said.

The flock of children, with the tall young Gaius in the lead, headed down the steps, with the servants bringing up the rear. Porcia leaned her head upon Pilate's shoulder.

“Well, it appears we have the morning to ourselves,” she said. “What would you like to do?”

“There is a small village at the base of the mountain,” said Pilate. “Why don't we walk down there and see if there is anything in the shops that you might like?”

“That sounds delightful,” she said.

So the two of them walked down the narrow road together to the small village by the harbor. Many of the people who lived there were employed in one capacity or another by the Villa Jovis—some were paid servants, accountants, or groundskeepers, while others raised crops or herds or caught fish to supply the Emperor's needs. There were only two or three shops worth visiting, and one small inn that sold roasted fish. Pilate and his wife ate a light noontide meal, and he purchased two matching necklaces, both made up of pearls and seashells, for his wife and daughter. Not long after noon the two of them began the walk back up the mountain road to the Emperor's home. It was at that moment that Pilate's life and future were forever changed.

There was a rustling in the bushes beside the road, and then a bloody and battered figure emerged. It was Porcia Minor, but she was barely recognizable. Her lovely tunic was gone, and her shift was torn down the front so that she had to hold it together with one hand. The other arm was bent in half midway down the forearm, as if someone had tried to give her a second elbow. Her nose was bloodied and one eye was already swelling, and blood ran down her thighs. She walked in a painful, slow hobble, legs slightly apart—as if every single step was agony. Pilate knew that walk, having seen it in enemy villages when the soldiers were turned loose on the local womenfolk. Porcia was whimpering in pain, and when she looked up and saw him she cried in anguish: “
Tata!!
”

He was at her side in a moment, scooping her up in her arms. Her mother was also there instantly, stroking her forehead and making soothing noises.

“What happened, child?” she asked.

“Gaius!” she said through her tears. The story came tumbling out of her, interrupted by sobs and whimpers of pain. “We went fishing with the other children, like he said we would. But after a little while he said he was bored and asked if I would walk him back to the villa. But then we wound up on another trail and came out in a small clearing I did not recognize. He turned and asked me if I would give him a kiss. I said he could have one . . . that was all!” She started sobbing again, so heavily that she could not speak. Pilate felt his heart turn to lead in his breast. “But then he started kissing me again and again, and I tried to push him away. He grabbed my arm and threw me to the ground so hard I felt my bones snap! Then he was on top of me, tearing at my clothes and punching me in the face. I tried to stop him, but he HURT me! Oh,
tata
, it hurt SO BAD!” Pilate hugged her close and looked at his wife, seeing the anger behind her tears.

His daughter tried to continue. “He laughed,
tata
! The more I cried, the more he laughed! Then he . . . he raped me! It hurt so much. I thought I was being split in two! I thought he loved me,
tata
. I . . . oh, mama, I know it is wrong, but if that was what he wanted, I might have let him do it if he had only been NICE! I thought he was nice!
I thought he loved me!
” she wailed, and then her tears overwhelmed her, and she could not speak anymore.

For the rest of his life, Pilate could not recall exactly what happened next. One moment he was holding his daughter in his arms, the next he was in the Villa Jovis, running from room to room. He grabbed a terrified servant and demanded to know where Gaius Caligula's rooms were. The servant pointed toward a chamber opening into the hallway near the Emperor's chambers, and Pilate burst through the door. There stood Gaius Caligula, wearing a fresh white tunic. The one that was crumpled on the floor beside his bed was grass-stained and had specks of blood upon it—his daughter's blood, Pilate realized.

“
Mentula!!!
” he screamed in rage. “You ravaged my daughter!”

The gangly youth looked at him coolly. “Oh, please!” he said. “Don't be ridiculous. The little slut threw herself at me!”

At that moment the beast that Pilate had kept penned up inside himself since his return from Spain burst from its bonds and seized control of him. He was not aware of crossing the room, only of his hands seizing the boy by both wrists. Caligula squawked in rage and fear as Pilate bent him backward until he fell onto his bed.

“Unhand me, you common brute! Don't you know I will be your Emperor soon?” he blustered.

Pilate spoke through gritted teeth. “Tell me, Gaius Caligula, when you broke her arm, did it sound like this?” He wrenched the youth's arm to full extension and then struck it with his palm as hard as he could. The bone snapped like a dry twig. “Or was it more like THIS?” He repeated the process on the other arm as Caligula shrieked in pain, then he threw the writhing teen to the marble floor and fell upon him.

“Did she squeal like you are squealing now when you struck her in the face?” he said, demolishing the boy's nose with punch after punch. He relished each blow. “You nasty little whelp, I will see to it that you never ravage another man's daughter as long as you live!” he snarled, grabbing a dagger he had seen by the bedside table. He tore the boy's tunic away and exposed his body, but before he could use the blade on the screaming teenager's member, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned just in time to see Sejanus swinging the butt of a gladius toward his head, and then he knew no more.

Pilate woke to the rays of the late afternoon sun slanting in through an unfamiliar window. The back of his head was throbbing, and he could feel his pulse pounding in his eyeballs. He tried to remember where he was, and how he had gotten there. Then the memory of his daughter's anguished cries came flooding back, and he sat up abruptly. The sudden movement worsened his pain, but then when the room swam into focus he saw Tiberius seated next to his bed, looking straight at him with eyes full of anger and pain. Sejanus stood behind him, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

“My daughter?” was his first question.

“She is being tended by my personal physician,” said the Emperor, “as is my grandson and heir. What in the name of Hades were you thinking, Pilate? You assaulted a member of the Imperial family! If you were any other man, I would have already had you thrown from the cliffs!”

“He . . . raped . . . my . . . daughter!” said Pilate slowly and clearly, fury filling his heart again. The beast within him slavered and gnawed at the bonds that held it in check.

“He claimed his conjugal privileges a little early!” said the Emperor. “Most of the men in Rome do the same!”

“When their betrothed bride is twelve years old?” asked Pilate viciously. “Tell me, Caesar—when you were claiming your conjugal privileges, did you ever snap your bride's arm? Or beat her face so severely her own mother could barely recognize her, and then set her to wander in the woods, ravaged and stripped? I only regret your man here found me before I could make a eunuch of the little monster!”

Tiberius bowed his head and put his face in his hands for a moment. When he looked up, there were tears in his eyes. “It wasn't supposed to be like this!” he said plaintively. “I knew the boy had a wild streak, but I thought she would help him tame it, not become a victim of it! Oh, Pilate, my old friend, you should have come to me with this! I could have punished him appropriately, and tried to recompense your family for the injury done your daughter. But by taking things into your own hands, you have imperiled your entire family!”

Pilate frowned. “What do you mean, Tiberius?” he finally asked in what was an almost normal tone of voice.

“That boy whose arms you broke; whose face you did your best to ruin—he will be Emperor of Rome someday! And not in the far distant future either! I am nearly seventy and will not live forever. Do you think he will not try to find you when he comes into the purple?” Tiberius asked earnestly.

Pilate's jaw dropped in disbelief. “You would still make him your heir? A man who would rape a twelve-year-old?”

Tiberius groaned. “I have no choice now!” he snapped. “I am too far committed. If I back out now, I will be a laughingstock. Tiberius, the Emperor who could not give away his Empire! It has to be Caligula. Drusus' two sons are worst fit to rule than he, and Gaius' brothers hate me with a passion. Caligula is my last chance to groom an heir fit for the seat of Augustus. But you have broken him, Pilate—physically, and possibly mentally as well. I do not know yet what manner of man he will be when he recovers from his injuries. You may have created a monster!”

“The monster was already there, Caesar!” snapped Pilate. “You know that as well as I do!”

Tiberius nodded. “That may be so, but this monster is going to be thirsting for your blood as soon as he comes to. I cannot undo what has been done, but I can remove you two from each other's proximity, and that is what I must do. You and your family will leave at first light.”