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Authors: Craig Smith
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stepped from the flagship, Pilate waited patiently for the last of his fleet to unload its cargo - two centuries of native Italian troops to reinforce the fourth cohort of the Fretensis Legion, then occupying the provinces of Syria and Judaea. Once these had secured the harbour alongside his bodyguard, Pilate sent his wife ahead of him to be received by the city magistrates. Finally, he was ready to disembark from his battle-ready trireme. The scarlet robe that he wore was too warm for comfort this late in April, but its gravitas lent him confidence as he strode down the gangway emulating the senators that he had seen leave their ships when he commanded the harbour at the imperial island of Capri.
Two years past his thirtieth birthday and a veteran of some fifteen years of military service, first as a cavalryman in the wars against Germania and then as a tribune in the palace guard under the command of the empire's rising star, Aelius Sejanus, Pilate carried himself with confidence. He had curly black hair and a deceptively cheerful face. Physically, he had lost the first elasticity of his youth while gaining a good deal of weight, but he compensated for this with greater physical strength and an older athlete's skilful management of his resources.
A crowd had gathered to observe the new prefect's arrival, but Pilate noticed no one other than Valerius Gratus. Pilate would have recognized his predecessor by the equestrian's scarlet robe he wore, of course, but he knew the face as well. It was lean and cunning, the very image of the statues he had seen of the man in Rome some years ago. The two men knew each other's revered families, but they had never met. Gratus, a good ten years older, had endured the past decade in his post in Judaea.
While his wife rode with Gratus's wife in a horse- drawn carriage, Pilate sat alone with Gratus in the prefect's gilded litter, carried by eight powerfully built slaves. They headed south toward the prefect's palace, which Pilate had seen briefly from the mouth of the harbour - a gleaming white complex of buildings perched close to the city wall. Venturing the occasional glance from his curtained window, Pilate observed a mix of peoples and colours and costumes. When he asked about this, Gratus explained that more than half the people of the city were indigenous Greek-speaking Syrians. The rest were Jews, Arabs, and Egyptians. After a moment, he added, The Jews create most of our problems.'
At Pilate's inquisitive look, Gratus continued hurriedly. Not that there were any serious problems in Caesarea. Not at all, really. Not like Jerusalem at any rate. He only meant to say that they offered a strong voice and were generally at variance with the desires of the city magistrates, the emperor's prefect, and the rest of the populace - the Syrian Greeks in particular. Warming to his subject, Gratus informed Pilate that in Caesarea the Jews were in fact hardly more than a vocal minority. They hated the city's luxuries but appreciated the opportunity to trade. In the city of Tiberias, the capital of Galilee, where there were no such commercial advantages, Herod Antipas had offered free land to any Jew willing to move to the city. Gratus gave a casual shrug of his thin shoulders. 'Only a few of the worst sort responded to the offer.'
'But Antipas is himself a Jew, if I understand it correctly,' Pilate answered.
Gratus's smile had a touch of exhaustion about it. He looked like a man ready to go home. Pilate understood the matter correctly, he said. The Jews, on the other hand, still had trouble with the concept. 'You see, the Hasmonians, from whom the Herods descend, were Samarian and Idumaean originally. They adopted Judaism only a century ago, so they are not real Jews, only converts to the faith for political convenience. Herod set the example and the present generation continues it. They honour the public ceremonies fastidiously. As for the rest, they are as Roman as you or I.'
'They are a
Two years past his thirtieth birthday and a veteran of some fifteen years of military service, first as a cavalryman in the wars against Germania and then as a tribune in the palace guard under the command of the empire's rising star, Aelius Sejanus, Pilate carried himself with confidence. He had curly black hair and a deceptively cheerful face. Physically, he had lost the first elasticity of his youth while gaining a good deal of weight, but he compensated for this with greater physical strength and an older athlete's skilful management of his resources.
A crowd had gathered to observe the new prefect's arrival, but Pilate noticed no one other than Valerius Gratus. Pilate would have recognized his predecessor by the equestrian's scarlet robe he wore, of course, but he knew the face as well. It was lean and cunning, the very image of the statues he had seen of the man in Rome some years ago. The two men knew each other's revered families, but they had never met. Gratus, a good ten years older, had endured the past decade in his post in Judaea.
While his wife rode with Gratus's wife in a horse- drawn carriage, Pilate sat alone with Gratus in the prefect's gilded litter, carried by eight powerfully built slaves. They headed south toward the prefect's palace, which Pilate had seen briefly from the mouth of the harbour - a gleaming white complex of buildings perched close to the city wall. Venturing the occasional glance from his curtained window, Pilate observed a mix of peoples and colours and costumes. When he asked about this, Gratus explained that more than half the people of the city were indigenous Greek-speaking Syrians. The rest were Jews, Arabs, and Egyptians. After a moment, he added, The Jews create most of our problems.'
At Pilate's inquisitive look, Gratus continued hurriedly. Not that there were any serious problems in Caesarea. Not at all, really. Not like Jerusalem at any rate. He only meant to say that they offered a strong voice and were generally at variance with the desires of the city magistrates, the emperor's prefect, and the rest of the populace - the Syrian Greeks in particular. Warming to his subject, Gratus informed Pilate that in Caesarea the Jews were in fact hardly more than a vocal minority. They hated the city's luxuries but appreciated the opportunity to trade. In the city of Tiberias, the capital of Galilee, where there were no such commercial advantages, Herod Antipas had offered free land to any Jew willing to move to the city. Gratus gave a casual shrug of his thin shoulders. 'Only a few of the worst sort responded to the offer.'
'But Antipas is himself a Jew, if I understand it correctly,' Pilate answered.
Gratus's smile had a touch of exhaustion about it. He looked like a man ready to go home. Pilate understood the matter correctly, he said. The Jews, on the other hand, still had trouble with the concept. 'You see, the Hasmonians, from whom the Herods descend, were Samarian and Idumaean originally. They adopted Judaism only a century ago, so they are not real Jews, only converts to the faith for political convenience. Herod set the example and the present generation continues it. They honour the public ceremonies fastidiously. As for the rest, they are as Roman as you or I.'
'They are a
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