Maximus

by Richard L. Black

  The soldier was noticeably perturbed by the apparent challenge to his authority. “And who are you to order me to do anything?”

  Jacob was immovable. “I am a citizen of Rome, the general Lucius Fabius Maximus. I am here under the direct authority of the emperor Tiberius. This is Androcles, deputy commander of our legion. He is here by the same authority. We thank you for your delivery and ask you to leave us.”

  The soldier looked up at Maximus, gauging him carefully, his hand tightening on his sword. “You look like no Roman general I’ve ever seen,” he said defiantly. He snorted and spat at Maximus’s feet.

  Before the spittle hit the ground, Androcles planted his large fist squarely between the soldier’s eyes, dropping him to his knees before he collapsed face first into the dusty road.

  “I don’t know if that was necessary,” Maximus remarked, turning toward Androcles, “but it appears you have convinced him, my friend.” He chuckled quietly.

  Androcles was expressionless as he lifted the bulky soldier and in one motion slung him on top of the donkey, which adjusted its hooves to balance the awkward load suddenly placed on its back.

  “Take him back to the fortress,” Androcles commanded the young boy, “and tell whoever sent him to have him bathe.”

  The boy nodded in fearful agreement and pulled the donkey harshly to get moving.

  Maximus smiled at Androcles. “You still have a persuasive way about you,” he joked.

  They picked up the two bundles and went back into the house, leaving the onlookers speechless.

  They unpacked the bundles to find Roman attire. In each was a clean white tunic and new sandals, two baldrics with narrow leather straps to go over their shoulder to hold the sheath for their swords, and a thicker cintus to fasten around their waist to hold daggers. They were also supplied with Roman short swords and daggers and two embossed leather breastplates. A pair of scarlet red paludamenta, or officers’ capes, completed their uniforms. Everything fit perfectly. Both men opted to use the higher quality swords that had been given to them by Flacchus Aurelius in Capernaum.

  Freshly bathed, clean shaven, and fully dressed in Roman attire, Maximus and Androcles cut imposing figures in the small room of Ezra’s home.

  “Yes, I can see the general and his deputy commander,” commented Ezra. “You indeed look the part.”

  Androcles smiled. Maximus untied the straps on his breastplate and adjusted it to a more suitable position. He seemed uncomfortable in his new clothing.

  “It appears we are ready,” Ezra announced. He was eager for their audience with Pilate. He was sure they would face questioning about the incident earlier, but Maximus outranked every Roman in Jerusalem and would have no trouble quelling any objections to their actions.

  They opened the door to find a curious crowd still gathered in the street. The buzz of conversation stopped as Ezra walked out, staff in hand, followed by Maximus and Androcles. Dressed in their Roman attire they were even more imposing. The crowd stepped back in sudden fear. Ezra simply marched on with Maximus and Androcles following.

  The streets and byways of the city were becoming more and more crowded with visitors, who made way for the two Romans. Ezra appeared to be as Moses, parting the sea of people with his staff. They approached a group of Roman soldiers loitering in a courtyard. Upon seeing Maximus and Androcles, they saluted by placing their forearms across their chests. Maximus and Androcles saluted back. The soldiers stared after them, not recognizing the two strange officers.

  “That was odd,” commented Androcles.

  “Yes,” responded Maximus, “I’ve become accustomed to being an inhabitant of this land, not a Roman legate worthy of a salute.”

  “Well, most of the residents of this city don’t think us worthy of any recognition. I can almost feel the scorn these people have for us,” Androcles added.

  “If our friend this morning was any indication of the Roman presence here, it’s no wonder,” Maximus said.

  They soon arrived at Pilate’s place of residence. Ezra confidently ascended the few steps that led to the portico and announced himself and his two friends to the guards, who stood tall, holding long javelins at their sides. “We have an audience with the prefect. My name is Ezra, and this is the general Maximus and his deputy commander Androcles. Pilate is expecting us,” Ezra announced.

  The guards looked on without responding. One opened the large wooden door and disappeared into a courtyard. He returned in a minute with the same small man Ezra had talked to the day before. The man had his ever-present scroll and spoke animatedly, explaining that the governor was meeting with the high priest and members of the Sanhedrin on a pressing matter.

  “Pontius Pilate requests your patience,” the man said in an effeminate voice. “He has commitments that will take him to the dinner hour, and as you know, that is the beginning of Shabbat. Because the governor honors local traditions, he asks that you return the day after tomorrow.” He looked at the scroll he was carrying. “He will have more time for your report then.” The man raised his head and smiled blandly.

  Ezra stood his ground. “There is nothing more important to the governor than the information we bring to him—nothing!” Ezra gestured with his staff for emphasis.

  The slender man stiffened, his eyes widened, and he stepped backward slightly. The two Roman soldiers at his side tightened their grip on their javelins.

  “I think it is presumptuous of you to imply that you know best what would be important to the prefect,” the man said, his voice trembling slightly.

  “In this instance I do,” Ezra responded. Maximus wanted to smile. He sensed Ezra had the upper hand, but Pilate’s scrawny puppet held the key to the door.

  In one motion, the scribe gathered his robe about him and said, “We will see you after Shabbat,” as he sashayed through the wooden doors. The guards quickly shut them with a resounding slam and stood holding the javelins across their waists with two hands, discouraging further discussion.

  Ezra turned in disgust and walked down the stairs ahead of them. Maximus looked at Androcles. They both shrugged and followed their mentor back into the streets of Jerusalem. They followed him for some time before he finally turned to them and said, “They are plotting his capture and death, those vipers!” he spat. Maximus and Androcles looked at him with furrowed brows, not fully grasping Ezra’s comments.

  “Whose death?” asked Maximus.

  “The Messiah’s,” Ezra responded dejectedly. “Members of the Sanhedrin meeting with Pilate can mean only one thing: they know Jesus is coming, and they are preparing to have him killed.” He walked on in silence, his head bowed.

  34

  יום ראשןו

  Yom Rishon

  Ezra was up early the first day of the week to prepare for what he hoped would be the last time for the meeting with Pontius Pilate. Maximus and Androcles donned their Roman uniforms. They were out early, but the streets were already full of people heading toward the temple. It was a curious phenomenon, which prompted Ezra to take a detour. Maximus and Androcles obligingly followed him down a narrow side street away from the main road. He stopped to talk to a man who appeared to be a friend of Ezra’s. They spoke in animated tones, the other man gesturing in every direction. At one point they stood close and spoke in hushed tones. Upon finishing their short conversation, they embraced and the friend returned to his house. Ezra approached his two friends.

  “He says it is rumored that Jesus of Nazareth has been staying with a family in nearby Bethany. Some of his disciples have preceded him into Jerusalem. Apparently he is preparing to come to the temple. My friend is a disciple and believes as we do; I trust his information. That is most likely the reason for the additional excitement in the air today.” Ezra looked sternly down the street.

  “When will he arrive?” asked Maximus.

  “It is but a short distance from Bethany to Jerusalem. He could arrive any time before noon,” Ezra answered.

  “Will this aff
ect our meeting with Pilate?” Maximus asked.

  “No, I think it makes it timelier,” Ezra responded. “Let’s not tarry here. Let’s go and make our report.” He spun and walked with renewed vigor. Maximus and Androcles dropped in behind.

  The same two guards stood at the palace doors. They recognized Ezra and the two Romans with him. Before being asked, the larger one opened the door and went inside, quickly shutting the door behind him.

  As they ascended the steps the remaining guard said with unconvincing authority, “You are to remain here.”

  Ezra turned his back on the guard and looked out at the great city before him. He quietly remarked to his two friends, “You two are here because of Pilate’s request to Tiberius, yet he treats you like dogs that have been sent to fetch a bone for which he has no use.” Ezra struck his staff on the stone steps as he spoke. “I urge you to be bold with him. Tell him the truth. Hold nothing back. And be sure you tell him that the emperor and the senate of Rome await your report.”

  Ezra turned again to face the guard, who shifted his stance in obvious discomfort under the scrutiny.

  The door to the palace suddenly opened, and the Roman guard stepped out ahead of the slender secretary who once again carried a scroll. He spoke curtly. “The prefect will see you now,” he said, without looking directly at them.

  Maximus admired the finely carved columns surrounding the courtyard and looked upward to the bright blue sky. “I could almost believe we’re in Rome,” he remarked to Ezra.

  “Well, you are not,” Ezra responded tersely.

  Maximus thought Ezra might be more opposed to the Roman occupation than he let on.

  A wave of white came through the columns at the rear of the courtyard as Pilate and his entourage walked through the portico and onto the fine mosaic floor where Ezra, Maximus, and Androcles stood.

  Pilate greeted them. “My friends,” he said in a kind voice. “It is so good to see you again.” He shook their hands, then stood back and looked at Maximus and Androcles. “General Maximus, you and your deputy commander look a little different from how you looked the last time I saw you.” He laughed heartily. “Apparently you still have a penchant for tangling with your fellow soldiers, however.” The report of the incident with the drunken guard had obviously reached his ears.

  “I don’t apologize,” Maximus said forcefully as he stepped forward with his head held high. “It appears some soldiers in Jerusalem indulge too much in the local wine. Perhaps they need a reminder of Roman discipline and restraint,” he said, confidently asserting his rank.

  Pilate looked at him curiously, considering the intent of his statement. It occurred to Pilate that Maximus was a senatorial legate and thus outranked every Roman in Judaea. He decided against a challenging rejoinder. Instead, he retreated to the governor’s judgment seat. A mixed group of Romans and Jews, including the secretary, stood by his curule.

  Pilate decided on a friendlier tack. “Have you enjoyed our marvelous Judaea?” he asked.

  “Yes, we have,” Maximus responded. “It is beautiful and peaceful in many ways.”

  “Not as beautiful as the lush Roman countryside, I daresay,” Pilate added.

  “It is a different kind of beauty,” Maximus said.

  “Yes, different it is. And the people—how do you find the people?” Pilate questioned. “I hope less drunk on wine and less threatening than we Romans.” Pilate again laughed out loud.

  Maximus smiled. “They are a very peaceful people, hard-working and dedicated to their families and religion,” Maximus responded.

  “Ah yes, their religion,” Pilate said with some contempt, “and a complicated religion it is.”

  “With respect, prefect, I would disagree,” Maximus replied. “It is very simple. They have one God, Jehovah. And they are diligent in their obedience to his laws.”

  “Yes,” Pilate interrupted, “it is hard to distinguish their religion from their government. But I disagree that they have but one God,” he added. “They worship an ancient god—Moses, they call him. Then there is Abraham, the one they call Father. Recently they have paid homage to an itinerant preacher called John the Baptist. As powerful as this John was, he couldn’t stop the effects of Herod Antipas’s axe—his head came off like any other mortal’s.” There was again laughter, muffled this time, from the men flanking Pilate. “Now we have this Jesus of Nazareth going about claiming to be king of the Jews and the long-awaited Messiah who will conquer all their enemies. What have you learned about this Nazarene and his intentions?” Pilate settled back into his curule, crossing his legs under his long robe.

  Maximus wanted nothing more than to say, “Yes, he is the promised Messiah!” But he knew that would destroy his ability to protect Jesus. “I have learned a little about their religion. Perhaps I should share that with you.” Pilate waved his hand condescendingly, as if giving Maximus permission to continue. “Moses was a prophet, not a god. He received commandments directly from Jehovah in the form of stone tablets that he gave to the children of Israel. The commandments became known as the Law of Moses, which the Jews still adhere to faithfully. They were simple enough tenets when they were first received. The law has become complicated, as you have noted, by the interpretation and infighting of the Jewish priests and rabbis.” This comment was met by a murmur among the Jewish authorities present. “Even the great Sanhedrin disagrees on the observance of the Law of Moses. They have changed it to control the people and serve their selfish purposes. It has become a political tool.”

  One of the priests objected. “With respect, prefect, this man knows little of our religion.”

  Maximus cut him off. “I know more than you think, sir,” he said, addressing the priest directly. “The Jews call Romans heathens and idolaters, but have you been to your temple lately? Have you witnessed the commerce there? Romans show more respect and reverence in the temples of their gods! And your revered prophets—how many of your prophets have your people stoned and killed over the ages?”

  The challenger said no more.

  Ezra looked at Maximus approvingly.

  Maximus continued. “This John the Baptist you speak of, Pilate, is related to Jesus of Nazareth; their mothers are cousins. As I understand it, John was considered a prophet like unto Moses, who was sent by Jehovah with the specific message that one mightier than he would soon come. That mightier one of whom John testified is Jesus of Nazareth—the Messiah.” To this there was a boisterous objection.

  Pilate held up his hand and asked pointedly, “Does the great general Lucius Fabius Maximus believe that this simple carpenter from Nazareth is the promised Messiah of the Jews?”

  Ezra shifted uncomfortably as Maximus responded, “It is irrelevant what I believe. I am just explaining what I have learned.” Pilate nodded as Maximus continued. “Jesus teaches the people that the Law of Moses will soon be fulfilled, and he brings a new law. His message is of peace and brotherly love. Simply put, the law that Jesus teaches is more threatening to the Sanhedrin than Rome is. He does not promote rebellion. He is not collecting arms and forming an army to come against us. He heals the sick and afflicted and preaches a message of kindness. His detractors are more concerned that he is wresting the allegiance of the people away from them.”

  “That is my concern too, General Maximus.” Pilate sat up in his seat. “We want the people to give their allegiance to Rome.”

  Maximus chose his words carefully. “We Romans come here as a conquering army. I have been on more campaigns than I can count in which we subjected foreign lands to Roman ways. We tax them heavily and strip them of their wealth and dignity, then expect them to accept their fate without complaint. If Gaul were to invade Rome and be victorious, how well do you think any of us would accept that fate? Would we ever show allegiance to that conquering army?” Maximus spoke with passion. The hall was hushed, and a few of his detractors nodded their heads in agreement.

  Pilate stared into the eyes of the powerful man standing before him, d
igesting what he had just heard. “Your point is wise and well taken, general,” Pilate said as he folded his hands pensively under his chin. “You almost sound as if you sympathize with the Nazarene and his disciples,” he added.

  Maximus did not respond.

  “Ezra, you have been uncommonly quiet.” Pilate directed his attention to his old friend. “What do you think?”

  Ezra shifted his staff to his other hand. “Pilate, the general has spoken well. He speaks the truth about the ways and sentiments of my countrymen. I think you should listen to him and heed his counsel.” Ezra turned again toward Maximus.

  “General Maximus, have you witnessed any miracles? We hear reports of a type of magic he possesses. Have you seen this?” Pilate asked.

  “I have been witness to what you speak of, but it is not magic,” Maximus explained. “He heals without consideration to whether the person is rich or poor. He does not brag about his actions nor promote them or himself. He simply serves the people as they come to him and then asks them to remain quiet about what they have received at his hands. He looks for no payment or recognition for his works.”

  “Where does he profess to get this knowledge or power?” Pilate asked.

  “From his father,” Maximus answered. “He says he receives his authority from his father.”

  “The carpenter?” Pilate asked.

  “I believe he is referring not to the carpenter Joseph but to God,” Maximus answered.

  This statement brought a stir and loud objections throughout the hall.

  “So he claims that God is his father?” Pilate probed.

  “God is the father of us all,” Maximus stated boldly.

  “Are you claiming that the God of the Jews is also the God of the Romans?” Pilate said with a smirk. His men smiled.

  Maximus looked at Pilate without expression, leaving no room for doubt about his silent answer to the question.

  Maximus proceeded boldly. “I sense you have been approached by the leaders of the Sanhedrin, defending their position and asking Rome to intervene by suppressing Jesus and his teachings. They have likely portrayed him as a threat and a hindrance to the rule of Rome here in Jerusalem.” Maximus waited for Pilate’s response.