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Gaius Longines, a Centurion in the service of Tiberius, and the
citizens of Rome. I greet you
Crasius on a day that has been like none other since my cohort was posted to
this dour corner of the Empire.
As you’ve long known, I accepted a commission as a
Centurion in civic duty, desiring to serve the greater glory of Rome. In my heart I had always dreamt of
driving out the barbarians as you did, from our far frontiers. instead, my
cohort was posted to the Tenth Legion in Judea. Rather than expanding the frontier, my cohort now works to
maintain the tenuous peace between Governor Pilate and this rabble population. I have found myself to be far more an
executioner of common criminals than a soldier, combating worthy
adversaries. Yet today is
difficult to understand, which is why I write you, my esteemed father.
Over the past few days, Jerusalem has been groaning
as Jews from throughout the province have been converging on the city in
preparation for one of their observances.
Along with their faithful, thieves and other criminals arrived to prey
on the unsuspecting. Two such
culprits, along with an insurrectionist named Barabbas were placed in our
custody to await execution. Yet this morning, temple leaders delivered up a
fourth man, one allegedly claiming to be the King of the Jews. Pilate took an interest in this man and
determining that he’d committed no capital crime, ordered him beaten for being
a nuisance. Yet those religious
leaders insisted that he’d be put to death, and demanded clemency for the
insurrectionist. Pilate, being a
shrewd man, acquiesced to their demands, fearing a riot.
A short time later, the three were delivered to my
custody for execution and seeing this “king”, I drew back with a deep
horror. He wasn’t simply beaten, one
member of the cohort whipped him with the flagrum while another severely
wounded his head with those dreaded capparis spinosa thorns, leaving him a
seething walking wound. I’ve seen
the horrors of battle, yet this churned my constitution and I was compelled to
avert my gaze. Beaten and bruised, I was amazed to see him standing silently,
without a sound. It became clear
after setting off for the execution site that this wretch would die enroute, so
I compelled an onlooker to carry this “king’s” cross.
On the brow of the hill, each had a placard affixed
to their cross, according to Roman law, stating their name and crime. As the day wore on, it was punctuated by
cries, curses and the jeering contempt of passersby; it wasn’t so with this
“king”. I’m acquainted with the
language of Jerusalem, and what this Nazarene was saying intrigued me. He was asking forgiveness for my century who crucified him. He offered
comfort to a thief and later, let out an emotional cry to his god.
The afternoon progressed as a gathering darkness
seemed to encircle and swallow Jerusalem.
The man spoke of his thirst.
I’ve never considered myself a compassionate man, yet I ordered the
soldiers to share a drink of their beverage. This seemed to revive him as he raised his head spoke once
more, then expired before us. In
my heart, I was struck. An
innocent man was executed today, but he was much more than one not guilty of
any crime. He was as a son of the
gods, or perhaps the very Son of God.
At any case, his remains now lie in a sealed tomb A
Guard mount is watching over it to see that no mischief occurs or his body
disturbed.
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