The Redemption of Pontius Pilate (17 page)

As for Porcia Minor, she was thrilled to be making a journey, and even more excited about seeing Gaius again. Over the last year she had begun to mature physically, and knew that her womanhood was nearly upon her. She had fallen in love with Gaius at first sight—he was so tall, and his eyes were so blue! She knew that his pimply countenance and awkward posture made other girls turn their noses up at him, but she could see past those temporary flaws to the man he would become someday, and knew that those selfsame girls would be swooning with jealousy when he was the handsome young Emperor and she his bride and consort.

She also knew that their unofficial engagement had made her father a very important man in Rome, and she took pride in her father's
arctoritas
, knowing that its aura illuminated the whole family with a
dignitas
that many Romans never achieved. Pilate was a doting father whom she greatly adored, and the idea that her love for Gaius would elevate him to a status he might never have otherwise reached filled her with pride. She was sure that this trip to visit the Emperor and his adopted son at Capri would be the finest moment of her life!

Pilate sent a letter ahead so that the Emperor would know when they were coming, and two days after meeting the courier, he and his family, along with three trusted servants, began the journey to Capri. Spring was running rampant in the countryside, and Porcia Minor frequently left the litter she and her mother were riding in to chase butterflies and baby rabbits. They were in no particular hurry—Capri was only two days' hard ride from Rome, and Pilate had told Tiberius they would be there in a week or so. He and Porcia spent the first night of their journey at the country estate of Marcus Fabricius, of one of Pilate's clients, who was currently back in Rome. Their daughter had worn herself out on the road that day and was falling asleep at the dinner table; Pilate carried her to bed and kissed her forehead, then joined his wife in the master bedchamber.

After making love, he held Porcia and they talked far into the night about everything and nothing—bits of Forum gossip, memories of a marriage that was nearing fifteen years' duration, silly moments from their childhood—the kind of talk that only two people who truly enjoy life together can share. It was long past midnight when they fell asleep.

The next day started off lovely, but clouds came rolling in from the Mediterranean around noon, and by the second hour past it was pouring buckets and the wind was blowing the rain horizontally. Pilate pulled his old campaigning
sagum
from his bags and placed it over his clothes, but even the oiled leather could not keep the water from pouring in at his neck and soaking his tunic. Porcias Major and Minor were even less able to keep the floods at bay, and both were soaked to the skin inside their litter within the hour. By that time the cobblestones were so slick with mud and water that the bearers were having a hard time keeping the litter on the level, so both ladies mounted up in most un-Roman fashion on the extra horses and rode alongside Pilate. Finally they came to an inn about three hours before dark, and Pilate rented two rooms for the family and servants. He paid an extra denarius to get a hot tub of water brought up so that they could shake off the chill of the journey, and that night he, his wife, and his daughter all shared one bed for the sake of warmth as a cool north wind reminded them all that winter's hold had not been completely relinquished.

The next day, though, the clouds had rolled away, and the morning sun dawned doubly bright—determined, it seemed, to apologize for its absence the previous afternoon. Dressed in clean, dry clothes, Pilate's entourage set out once more for Neapolis. They made excellent time, and by the end of that third day were only twenty miles from the seaport from where they would set out to reach Capri. Pilate was very anxious now to get to their destination, and decided about midday to ride on ahead and secure lodgings for the night on the outskirts of the city. He made the journey in a little over an hour once he was free of the litter bearers' pace, and found a large and comfortable villa for rent just outside the city. The owner was puzzled that Pilate only wanted it for one night, until he explained that he was on his way to Capri to see the Emperor.

“Of course,” said the merchant, Fabius Caprilius. “Any guest of the Emperor is welcome to use my weekend home! We are all quite fond of Tiberius around here!”

Pilate was puzzled. Most of the people of Rome were at best indifferent and at worst downright hostile to the gloomy old Caesar, but this man's affection was obviously genuine. The man must have seen Pilate's expression, for he burst out laughing.

“Probably don't hear that sentiment up in the Forum very often, do you, sir?” he asked.

Pilate nodded with a slight smile but did not speak.

“Those Senators have never seen the Emperor around children,” the merchant explained. “He has all the local boys and girls out to the island on a pretty regular basis—lets them have the run of the palace, watches them dance and play, and sends them home with a bellyful of candy and sweets and a gold sestercius each! If he were a Greek, I would wonder about it all, but my boy has been out there a half dozen times and swears up and down the old coot—er, begging your pardon, the noble Emperor, I mean—never does anything unseemly with any of them. He just loves to watch them being happy!”

Pilate smiled. “The Emperor has often told me how much he loves children,” he said. “He claims it's a shame they must grow up to be people!”

“That sounds about like him,” said Fabius. “Enjoy your stay for the night—I will have my servants prepare supper for your household, so that you have no worries for the evening except rest after a long day's journey.”

Pilate paid the man and rode back down the road, finding his family only about ten miles from town. The litter bearers were looking quite exhausted, and he told them about the evening's accommodations, and then invited his wife and daughter to give the tired slaves a rest and ride with him for the last stretch. He told his steward, Democles, to bring the entourage along at a relaxed pace. He took a fresh horse and set Porcia Minor in front of him, while his wife rode alongside—riding sidesaddle, like a proper Roman matron, this time.

They arrived at the villa a little over an hour later, and found that the servants had bath water heating and supper laid on the table. Pilate made sure provisions had also been made for his own household slaves, and then he and his family cleaned off the dust of the road and enjoyed a pleasant meal. After supper they lit a charcoal brazier in the villa's receiving room and curled up on a stone bench covered with pillows and blankets. Pilate read several selections from Homer's
Odyssey
, and when Porcia Minor grew sleepy, he carried her to bed and then retired with his wife. All of them slept soundly, and did not stir until long after the sun was over the horizon.

It was a beautiful morning, and the harbor at Neapolis was teaming with ships of every size and description. Pilate chartered a small vessel to carry his family and three domestics across—he paid off the litter bearers, who had only been hired for the journey—and the party were all aboard before noon. With a light north breeze blowing and the rowers keeping good time, they took about four hours to get out to the island's harbor. Pilate sent a runner to inform the Emperor of their arrival, and then he rented a litter for his ladies and a horse for himself. The road up to the huge Villa Jovis, where Tiberius spent his summers, was fairly steep but well maintained, and both the horse and the bearers seemed used to the journey. By the time the sun had begun to lower in the sky, they had arrived at the Emperor's residence.

“Villa” was quite an understatement, thought Pilate as he stared at the huge structure. It had been built by Augustus early during his reign as an escape from the noise and distraction of Rome. Built on top of a mountain, the Emperor's summer home was in fact a huge and luxurious palace, four stories tall in places, with magnificent colonnades overlooking the island on one side and the Mediterranean on the other. It was easy to see why Augustus and Tiberius both loved the place so much—it was designed to be both beautiful and comfortable.

The Emperor met them at the top of the majestic staircase, leaning on a cane and looking weather-beaten and careworn but still healthy for a man of his years. Young Gaius stood by his side, taller by two inches than the last time Pilate had seen him. If he kept growing at this rate, thought Pilate, he would near six feet before he was done—quite tall for a Roman, but not unusual for the Julian line.

“Welcome, Pontius Pilate!” called the Emperor. “And welcome to your lovely family! It is good to have guests here on the island. Gaius, show the family to the guest quarters. Supper shall be served in an hour; come and meet me in the main banquet room. There will be music and dancing, and I have told my chef to make the meal memorable!”

“Caesar is most kind,” said Pilate. “We are delighted to come and visit you at any time, but most especially at your beautiful island home.”

Porcias Major and Minor bowed graciously, and young Caligula stepped forward and gave the younger of the two a wide smile. “Hello, Porcia, it is good to see you again!” he said. “You are almost as lovely as your mother now!”

Pilate's wife gave him a stern glance. “Your future bride should always rank above her mother in your eyes, young Gaius!” she said with mock severity.

Caligula gave an impish grin. “Well, I am sure she will surpass you soon enough,” he said. “But you are looking most lovely today, Procula Porcia! I think the sea agrees with you!”

She rolled her eyes at his shameless flattery, and Caligula showed them to the guest chambers—which were almost as large as their entire house back in Rome. They washed their hands and faces and donned clean clothes for dinner; then the servants came to conduct them to the main dining hall.

The table was at least fifty feet long, and laden with all sorts of dishes and delicacies. Sejanus, Macro, and a few other people Pilate did not recognize joined them near the center of the table. It obviously was made for many more guests, but from what Pilate had seen, for Tiberius eight guests were a large number indeed. Gaius sat next to his adoptive father and waited on the Emperor attentively, handing him choice morsels and whispering the occasional comment or private joke to him. Tiberius nodded and occasionally let out a low chuckle.

They ate until they could eat no more, and then the Emperor clapped his hands and ten small children came scampering out from a nearby doorway. Dressed in white tunics, they danced to the music of a lute, played by a lovely Greek maidservant, for about a half an hour. They were not particularly talented and frequently burst into giggles when they missed a step or got off beat. At one point, two of them collided with each other and collapsed in a tangle of arms, legs, and laughter. The Emperor laughed in amusement, and when they began to tire, he clapped his hands once more and the music stopped. The boys and girls lined up to face him, and Tiberius rose stiffly from the couch where he reclined and spoke.

“I thank you for entertaining my guests, and you may now go to your rooms. Selena has some sweets and fresh squeezed grape juice for you. Tomorrow the ship will take you back to your parents. Thanks for gladdening an old man's heart once more!” he said. They bowed, and one small girl came up and gave him a shy hug. The Greek girl who had been playing the lute had ducked back into the kitchen, and came back out with a large dish of sweetcakes and a flagon full of juice. With excited voices, the children followed her out of the room, and Tiberius watched them go with a fond look.

“If only all citizens were so easy to satisfy, and so eager to please!” he said. “But life is what we are stuck with, not what we wish for. Sejanus, Pilate, if you would be so kind as to join me in my study? The rest of you enjoy whatever delicacies you have not filled up on, and when you are ready to retire, my servants will show you to your chambers.”

“Can I come too?” asked Gaius.

Tiberius shook his head. “No, dear grandson, you will have to have enough boring and tedious conversations about politics when you are older. Trust me, it is not something you want to rush!” he said.

Caligula stuck out his lower lip in a pout, and then returned to the table. He was thirteen now and looked more like fifteen. His eyes were a very intense blue, thought Pilate, with an icy coldness at the heart of them that his smile never seemed to touch. He wondered if his daughter would melt that iciness away someday.

Moments later, they arrived in Tiberius' study, and he gestured for them to be seated. He leaned upon his desk and looked at them both very carefully. Finally he spoke.

“I am the Emperor of Rome,” he said. “The problem is that I despise Rome. Not the Empire, not the system of government, and not necessarily the people—although I would be lying if I said I was fond of them. It is the city of Rome I despise. Every time I set foot in it I feel the life force sapped from me, and the longer I stay there the more miserable I become.”

He began pacing about the room, running his fingers across the scabbard of Julius Caesar's gladius where it hung on the wall. “It has occurred to me that, since I am the Emperor, perhaps it is time I simply exercise Imperial prerogative and choose to stay away from the city altogether. I will be happier and the citizens of Rome will be indifferent. However, in order to do this, I will need loyal clients—not that nest of vipers in the Senate—to be my administrators, my instruments, and my eyes and ears. Sejanus, you have the loyalty of the Praetorian Guard and are keenly attuned to the thinking of the legions and the Equestrian Order. Pilate, you are a respected Consular and a senior member of the Senate. Between the two of you, I will want to be aware of every political current that wafts through the city. I want each of you to develop an extensive network of confidential informants who will keep you apprised of all developments that might impede or imperil the ongoing smooth governance of Rome. I will need regular reports on all matters that might be of concern. When it is necessary, you may have to act in my name quickly—and, if need be, ruthlessly. I am not abdicating my control over the Empire—only my presence in the city of Rome. Should anyone have reason to question my control, it is up to the two of you to give them a reminder of its thoroughness.”