Originally published in Spanish at www.soleado.org)
It was early and the sun was now lit. The governor was pensive as he strolled, slowly, in the upper balcony, enjoying the warm sunlight in his robe. His worn out thoughts could no longer bear the strain or resolve the matter. He was at his wits end and at the border of desperation. He anxiously awaited Claudia’s return. She was the only one who could help now and give him a semblance of peace. His famed shrewdness and mental quickness were only the distant memory of a once lucid military career. But now, he was constantly surrounded by a multitude of confusing doubts, and a tormented conscience. He still suffered insomnia and terrifying nightmares. Occasionally, the anguish was incessant. “What’s happening to me? Why?” Although he had been irreligious, in his dreams he’d shout out, “Apollo, help me!”
His servant, Dionysius, having noticed him, quickly came to tend to his master. “Good morning, my lord! What a nice morning it is today! I hope you had a better night last night.” “Yes” said Pontius, despite the fact he was deeply saddened and desperate for many nights now. “I’m a Roman!” he thought within himself, “I must stand firm.” Yet some thoughts escaped his mind and reached his tongue, “Until this morning.”
He was mindful of who he was and had been- Pontius Pilate! The celebrated governor of Judea! He was in his villa on the isle of Capri for the summer, hoping to regain his fortitude. And yet, though rested, he was pressured, battling desert nightmares. His physicians had prescribed total rest. “How’s it possible?” he thought. It had been little more that four and half years now since that fateful day. Besides, he was far from Palestine, and from the awful, tumultuous Judean desert. Still, his soul and conscience where far removed from peace. He felt forever imprisoned in the lonely silence and the wilderness of his Roman mind. “I don’t know what to think and feel anymore” were the last words that escaped Pilate’s mind.
He felt older than ever this morning. His famous vigor and the characteristic poise of a Roman leader had left him now. The growing beard seemed to accentuate the rough state of mind he was in. Rome was power and Rome had been his god! His unscrupulous tactics had landed him an ambitious military career, which had been his dream as a boy. Yet, his human successes and the achievement of his dream had now brought him to the brink of a mortal battle. As Pontius wrestled with his psyche, Dionysius humbly interrupted the silence:
-“If my lord wishes, breakfast is ready.”
- “Dionysius, I’m not hungry this morning, but I would enjoy some lemonade.”
- “As my lord wishes.”
As Pilate sat down Dionysius noticed the governor was not well. Drawing near to Pilate, he feigned to wipe-off the already clean table, and hoping to distract the governor from his concern he said, “In truth it’s been sometime since you deserved that tribute! In my opinion Rome doesn’t always value the truth.” Ironically, without malice, or forethought, desiring to cheer up the governor, Dionysius, nailed an acute jab on his distraught lord. Once again, Pilate’s thoughts escaped his mind, and reaching his lips he asked, sadly, yet sarcastically, “Quitas veritas . . . What is truth?” Suddenly, he raised his voice to reprove his servant, “Dionysius, mind your place! Rome . . .” As he was saying ‘Rome’ Dionysius quickly said: “Forgive me, my lord! I stand rebuked. I’m sorry, I forgot my place.” Pilate said nothing now.
Then it happened! Pilate began to re-live the ordeal in his mind- as in a dream or trance. He remembered the moment and the place as if it were yesterday. In an instant of time and space he remembered that sarcastic retort of a question- that of a Roman governor at the height of his pride and prowess and in full authority. Yet, in all conscience, now, it had been an undeserved, but cynical sarcastic retort. Overall, Pilate recalled the wounded face of the Galilean. Such now was the vividness of it all that he stood up, said, and asked, “So you are a King then?” Pilate stood dead quiet, but attentive, as if listening to someone speak. The words rubbed the fibers of his memory: "You say that I am a king. For this purpose I was born and for this purpose I have come into the world to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice." Pilate turned around, and as if to walk away, taking a step forward toward the house, he said it again: “What is truth?” He deliberately walked into the house and in a pronounced voice of authority he said: “I find no fault in him.” The breeze seemed to whisper the governor's pronoucement as it blew by.
By now, Dionysius stood confused and frightened. He had stood still before the whole silent, yet audible scene. In his fear, yet so as to understand his master, he followed Pilate into the house before a large marble living room, and he dared ask, “Forgive lord, where you speaking to me?” That warm sunlit morning began to pinch now with its warm heat. Yet a gentle breeze off the beach strolled through the house. Immediately Pilate realized he had been inside himself deep in thought: “Dionysius, I thirst.” “O! I’m so sorry, my lord.” Slowly, Pilate sat down. Again his thoughts immersed him. At once he felt the weight of that long ago day. Pontius sighed deeply, inclined his head in thought and whispered “I found no fault in Him.” He closed his eyes, strained now from the stress. Again he seemed to re-live the day. He vividly remembered the burning envy and hatred of the Chief Priests, the elders, the Pharisees and the Scribes. Their words spiked his now painful memory: “We have a law, and according to that law he ought to die because he has made himself the Son of God!" Pontius remembered the fear he had felt that day. As in a panic, he stood up to try and keep his trembling in check. At that moment, as the words seared his psyche, as if back in the Praetorium, in the governor’s headquarters, fear gripped and besieged his heart. He slunk back into the chair as his legs gave way. Again, his servant interrupted the now screaming silence:
-Your lemonade, my lord.
- Dionysius, you believe in the Christians, don’t you? You are one of them? Are you not?
Dionysius was taken aback and feared for his life. He bowed humbly and said, “Forgive, my lord, but why ask me now?” As Pontius said, “Dionysius,” he quickly answered, “Yes, lord” with a gesture of humility. Pontius continued, “Was Jesus the Nazarene the Son of God?" Dionysius, surprised, though fearful for his life, handed Pontius the lemonade. Pontius looked intently into Dionysius eyes at his level. Dionysius, fearful, deliberately sat down- he felt awkward doing what he’d not done before. “My lord, I have faithfully served your grace now these many years; I would like you to know . . .” Pilate quickly stood up and sternly interrupted his servant, and straightforwardly commanded him to give answer without forethought. “Dionysius! No ceremony! Let’s have it now, the truth!” Dionysius, slowly standing up, yet again, serious, fearful, but respectful, and with a tender peaceful look, he stood before the governor and slowly said, “You have said it.” Pilate, when he heard these words, as if re-living his past, was even more fearful. Then, without a word, and with a gesture of unspeakable words, Pontius looked at Dionysius yet again. They both smiled. Dionysius, fearfully content, thought, “Finally!”
Pontius quietly sipped his lemonade, then walked out onto the balcony. He looked out over the his balcony's beautiful view and straighted up in Roman character. He then walked down the stairs heading toward the beach. Dionysius found it strange Pontius had not said a word about going to the beach or having asked for his customary beachside comforts. “He’s going for a walk, alone, is he?” he thought.
Sadly, the governor was never seen again nor his body found. On the sand the servants could distinctly observe the footprints as they retrieved the robe and the sandals. On his way out, Dionysius cried, prayed, and thought, “How oft did I not show him the truth?”
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