RacingRodent
Consul
Remus Rabirius (Scene9)
Of course there was only so long I could delay the inevitable but
sometimes you play these games and hope against hope. The Temple
Authorities arrested Ayesha in a wooded grove that had been carefully
planted by the owner of the estate villa where she had been put up. Yet
no sooner had she entered the City of Jerusalem I had men I could rely
on swoop down and take charge of the prisoner citing Imperial
pre-emption due to the nature of the charges.
I used a turma of Germans who were passing through on their way to
reinforce a regiment on the Parthian frontier. The Jews had a tendency
to rub any garrison troops up the wrong way so I used soldiers who
had not yet learned the harsh disdain practiced by the rest. Alas I
could not hold on to them for longer than was needed for that one
mission but I was doing what I could to protect my Ayesha.
I was able to spare Ayesha another night of dignity, she was held in a
cell but no worse than might be expected for a high ranking Roman.
Time however was running out. Caiaphas the infernal demon of a
priest was determined to goad me with the evidence of mine and Ayesha’s
relationship. Apparently he had also turned up a drippy slave girl who
strictly speaking belonged to one of my staff but had formed the most
intense crush on me. She had it seemed followed me the night of our
encounter in the Olive Garden and was quite willing to endure torture
in order to claim that Ayesha had ensnared me by witchcraft, the
accusation was quite ridiculous of course but the mad courage of the
accuser would give it verisimilitude in the eyes of Sejanus and his ilk.
Had I known then the moves were afoot to unseat the man and Rome
was in turmoil as a result I might perhaps had the confidence and
sense to hold out against Caiaphas. Alas all I knew at the time was that
Sejanus had been raised to Consul and I assumed his power was
greater than ever. Since he was among my enemies I had to proceed as
if any misstep might be used to bring me down and thus I played
Caiaphas’s evil game.
Still I assumed that maybe I could tempt him with a lighter sentence.
“Ayesha of Nazareth I hereby sentence you to forty lashes in the public
view and order you return hence to Nazareth as soon as you are
recovered enough to travel. You are henceforth to consider yourself
under writ of banishment from Jerusalem under pain of death.”
Keep her away from the center of their power ought to have satisfied
the Pharisees and she could still visit my normal seat at Caesarea but
the High Priest had the mad bit between his teeth and forged on even
though he knew that sooner or later I would take my revenge upon
him somehow.
“Banishment, banishment? This woman has offended against God and
the Emperor,” I took note of the order he placed them in for future use
against him, “I must demand this woman, this rebel against nature and
just order be put to death!”
I glared at him and fixed the resolve in my mind that I would find
cause to see him die in agony whatever the outcome of future events.
However in the meantime I could but order the whipping and hope
that my ruse with the crowd and Barabbas would spare Ayesha further
suffering. “The sentence of a public flogging will be carried out
immediately the rest of the sentencing will be held in abeyance out of
the respect Rome has for the Passover festival, is this satisfactory?”
Caiaphas glared at me as if he thought he could intimidate me from
such a weak position but he too had to accede to his people’s own
customs.
He could but stand and fume while Ayesha and I hastily put our counter
stratagem into action, “I admit I am the one foretold for my people, if
they choose to call me Queen then so be it I am Queen of Jews, leader
of my people in their loyal service and obedience to Tiberius our
beloved Princeps,” Ayesha declared, it sounded a bit rehearsed in the
Latin but the words were as nothing to the effect of her next act. She cast
aside her Jewish style robes and took up a purple cloak leaving her
naked apart from her sandals and a loin cloth. Every man gasped and
most jaws dropped in sheer admiration at the feminine perfection
suddenly on display before them.
“Loyal to the Emperor I declare myself willing to face any punishment
that the Roman Governor Remus Rabirius decrees for me,” Ayesha
proclaimed in the audience’s preferred language which was Greek.
That won a murmur of approval from most of the onlookers though
Caiaphas and his priests kept their faces stony. I sometimes wondered
if that lot actually like women?
“Then Ayesha of Nazareth you shall be taken to main square and there
flogged before the eyes of all onlookers until you have received forty
strokes of the lash, I Remus Rabirius Prefect of Judea so order this in
the name of Tiberius Caesar,” I signaled to the guards to lead her away
to the square and then the whole procession trooped along beside her
to see ‘justice’ done.
Ayesha understood the importance of a show, she walked along
proudly and acknowledged the cheers of the crowd. There were quite
a few but also a few jeers. Slightly more disconcerting were those who
called out things like “Damn Romans,” and other taunts thought
fortunately most this was in Hebrew or similar languages so such
remarks were not entirely understood.
The procession made its way through cramped streets. Armed guards
both Roman soldiery and the Temple Guards flanked the double
column of officials. At one point Caiaphas has the temerity to push up
next to myself but a glare from me and another from Quintus sent him
scurrying back to his place with the Pharisees a notable step behind
my questors.
The whole operation was tricky and yet Ayesha in bonds now and
barely covered by her cloak that shifted and flapped in the awkward
gusts of wind worked the mob well. The key was in winning them over
to her cause and yet not provoking a riot. “Peace my brothers and
sisters peace, set aside hate, it blinds you to the good in you and
darkens your souls, seek love, I will bleed for you, you will see how I
love and you will see how I turn the other cheek and do not strike back
or call for vengeance…”
There was more and the crowd was in a curious mood by the time we
got to the place of execution. There were low murmurs and outright
cries of shock, anger and appreciation as Ayesha’s set aside her cloak
with casual distain and stood before the crowd naked save for a loin
cloth. For a moment I was struck by how elegant she looked but that
elegance was soon taken from her. The whipping post was set
deliberately low with a wooden rail just before it. The condemned
could neither stand nor kneel but was forced into an awkward
undignified stoop, presenting the curve of her back to the floggers.
These were two legionaries of privileged veteran rank. Both broad
men and well-muscled, also stripped to the waist for though they
would lay on but twenty strokes apiece it was hot work. You may ask
how I can go on to describe what happened next. How could I not? It is
etched in my mind, clawed there, scoured, the furrows that my dreams
and my regrets traverse each and every night along with the rest.
I gave the command and the men set to in measured rhythm. Even the
very first strike drew a line of narrow blood across slender heaving
shoulders. Each fresh blow made Ayesha flinch and cry out in pain and
she at time threatened to fall but the rail beneath her belly prevented
that easy option. Her body shook with each impact but that only drew
the eye more to the beauty of her parts. Her modest yet well-formed
breasts that quivered between blows and yet heaved under them, her
cloth clad buttocks, delicately turned and presented to the crowd. Her
long shapely legs, struggling to hold her against the pain and the shock
of that callous assault, oh how they told each and every man that here
was a woman and worthy, more worthy than many of the men
watching and so their desire turned to hate. Her back, perfect skin
soon marred with blood red and her face, veering from agony to calm
repose time after punishing time.
I watched and drank the bitter gall until it was done. On the fortieth
stroke I declared, “Punishment is done,” So now I strode before the
mob. It was in retrospect a desperate gamble yet of course in my folly I
convinced myself that she would be safe and all well when we put the
second half of my plan into action.
So now I presented myself to the crowd and offered them a choice. “In
respect for the customs and traditions of your people the most noble
Tiberius had reaffirmed the practice of offering you the people of
Jerusalem the choice of the gift of mercy to bestow. Standing before
you are two prisoners. On the one hand you have the gracious
beautiful healer and friend to the people who stirs fear in the hearts of
cruel and unjust men who would prey upon you the honest folk while
hiding behind the protection of the law, I present to you your
proclaimed savior Ayesha.”
I indicated Ayesha where she was being unbound form the whipping
post and offered her cloak to cover her nakedness. Then with another
wave of my hand I indicated a slumped figure being carried by two
mail clad guards.
“On the other hand there stands Barabbas, villain and robber, a man
who raised rebellion that brought down untold suffering upon his
people but did he fight Rome, no in his indiscriminate madness he
preferred to prey on the weak, the vulnerable, the old and young alike,
humble peasants and noble priests. All of you were his fodder and foes
and he hated and despoiled you all, I present to you Barabbas,
terrorist, murder, bandit, rapists and defiler of holy places.”
I looked down upon the crowd and smiled briefly, surely there could
be but one choice, “So people of Jerusalem who do you chose to bestow
mercy upon, who shall I set free in your name?”
At first it went well, a few called out, mostly women and they sent up
the word “Ayesha,” But then there was turmoil at the back of the
crowd and I almost ordered out my mixed cohort of Legionaries and
Macedonian auxiliaries to quell the impending riot. Then the crowd
seemed to order itself but now it spoke with one voice, at first weakly
but then with growing strength.
“Barabbas, Barabbas, free Barabbas the defier, free Barabbas the
liberator, free Barabbas the one the Romans fear, free Barabbas, free
Barabbas,” The chant went on and on until I had to order my guards
beat on their shields and the cornicens blow to win silence.
“Very well I shall free Barabbas,” I allowed and signaled the men to
unleash him. He stumbled off. He was a pitiful wreck of a man. He
most have aged forty even fifty years in captivity and those had been
cruel years. Gone was the brave warrior who had taunted me. This
man had wisps of white hair and scarps of filthy grey beard. His hands
were gnarled and clawed and shook incessantly, his crooked feet took
slow half steps, one foot leading and the other dragging. Each carried
him but the quarter of the distance a normal man might tread and his
pace was so slow that it might have taken him all day to traverse the
square.
I was not surprised when men came forwards to help him walk. Yet he
flinched back at their faces and at last I understood. Barabbas was no
longer any threat to the Pharisees, instead he most likely wound up
with his throat slit ear to ear in some refuse tip and that was that, good
riddance to old rubbish save that he was the ploy by which evil men
condemned a good woman.
“He won’t be much of a problem anymore don’t worry Remus,”
Quintus offered.
“He is not whom I am worried about you idiot fool,” I snapped under
my breath and he flinched back a step, “So people of Jerusalem, I have
one prisoner left, the beautiful Ayesha who has helped so many of
your kin, what shall be done with her?”
The crowd went for a moment into stunned silence. “Crucify her,” That
was to my surprise a woman’s voice but others took up the call,
“Crucify her, crucify her, crucify Ayesha,” on and on it went and I did
not even bother ordering it silenced but fled away from the square and
back to my quarters. There I wept.
It was a mistake. Some wit among the ranks found her a donkey. Her
guards swept the cloak back around her shoulder and then heaved her
atop it. Not kindly but in mockery for they set her backwards and
derided her in front of the mob. Maybe it was the instinctive hatred of
the Jews that a few years’ service in Palestine always inculcates in the
common soldiers? Maybe but enough of the mob were willing to join
in the mockery, oh how easy is it to come to hate the down trodden so
often the very agents of their own oppression.
So Ayesha was forced to bear the mockery and the scorn and even
some flung debris though the guards put a stop to that as soon as
someone with worse or better aim than most scored a direct hit on a
Roman face. She rode her donkey backwards, not seeing where she
was going but bearing the hatred of petty men and jealous women and
she gave them in return only love. Would they had been worthy of it.
Of course there was only so long I could delay the inevitable but
sometimes you play these games and hope against hope. The Temple
Authorities arrested Ayesha in a wooded grove that had been carefully
planted by the owner of the estate villa where she had been put up. Yet
no sooner had she entered the City of Jerusalem I had men I could rely
on swoop down and take charge of the prisoner citing Imperial
pre-emption due to the nature of the charges.
I used a turma of Germans who were passing through on their way to
reinforce a regiment on the Parthian frontier. The Jews had a tendency
to rub any garrison troops up the wrong way so I used soldiers who
had not yet learned the harsh disdain practiced by the rest. Alas I
could not hold on to them for longer than was needed for that one
mission but I was doing what I could to protect my Ayesha.
I was able to spare Ayesha another night of dignity, she was held in a
cell but no worse than might be expected for a high ranking Roman.
Time however was running out. Caiaphas the infernal demon of a
priest was determined to goad me with the evidence of mine and Ayesha’s
relationship. Apparently he had also turned up a drippy slave girl who
strictly speaking belonged to one of my staff but had formed the most
intense crush on me. She had it seemed followed me the night of our
encounter in the Olive Garden and was quite willing to endure torture
in order to claim that Ayesha had ensnared me by witchcraft, the
accusation was quite ridiculous of course but the mad courage of the
accuser would give it verisimilitude in the eyes of Sejanus and his ilk.
Had I known then the moves were afoot to unseat the man and Rome
was in turmoil as a result I might perhaps had the confidence and
sense to hold out against Caiaphas. Alas all I knew at the time was that
Sejanus had been raised to Consul and I assumed his power was
greater than ever. Since he was among my enemies I had to proceed as
if any misstep might be used to bring me down and thus I played
Caiaphas’s evil game.
Still I assumed that maybe I could tempt him with a lighter sentence.
“Ayesha of Nazareth I hereby sentence you to forty lashes in the public
view and order you return hence to Nazareth as soon as you are
recovered enough to travel. You are henceforth to consider yourself
under writ of banishment from Jerusalem under pain of death.”
Keep her away from the center of their power ought to have satisfied
the Pharisees and she could still visit my normal seat at Caesarea but
the High Priest had the mad bit between his teeth and forged on even
though he knew that sooner or later I would take my revenge upon
him somehow.
“Banishment, banishment? This woman has offended against God and
the Emperor,” I took note of the order he placed them in for future use
against him, “I must demand this woman, this rebel against nature and
just order be put to death!”
I glared at him and fixed the resolve in my mind that I would find
cause to see him die in agony whatever the outcome of future events.
However in the meantime I could but order the whipping and hope
that my ruse with the crowd and Barabbas would spare Ayesha further
suffering. “The sentence of a public flogging will be carried out
immediately the rest of the sentencing will be held in abeyance out of
the respect Rome has for the Passover festival, is this satisfactory?”
Caiaphas glared at me as if he thought he could intimidate me from
such a weak position but he too had to accede to his people’s own
customs.
He could but stand and fume while Ayesha and I hastily put our counter
stratagem into action, “I admit I am the one foretold for my people, if
they choose to call me Queen then so be it I am Queen of Jews, leader
of my people in their loyal service and obedience to Tiberius our
beloved Princeps,” Ayesha declared, it sounded a bit rehearsed in the
Latin but the words were as nothing to the effect of her next act. She cast
aside her Jewish style robes and took up a purple cloak leaving her
naked apart from her sandals and a loin cloth. Every man gasped and
most jaws dropped in sheer admiration at the feminine perfection
suddenly on display before them.
“Loyal to the Emperor I declare myself willing to face any punishment
that the Roman Governor Remus Rabirius decrees for me,” Ayesha
proclaimed in the audience’s preferred language which was Greek.
That won a murmur of approval from most of the onlookers though
Caiaphas and his priests kept their faces stony. I sometimes wondered
if that lot actually like women?
“Then Ayesha of Nazareth you shall be taken to main square and there
flogged before the eyes of all onlookers until you have received forty
strokes of the lash, I Remus Rabirius Prefect of Judea so order this in
the name of Tiberius Caesar,” I signaled to the guards to lead her away
to the square and then the whole procession trooped along beside her
to see ‘justice’ done.
Ayesha understood the importance of a show, she walked along
proudly and acknowledged the cheers of the crowd. There were quite
a few but also a few jeers. Slightly more disconcerting were those who
called out things like “Damn Romans,” and other taunts thought
fortunately most this was in Hebrew or similar languages so such
remarks were not entirely understood.
The procession made its way through cramped streets. Armed guards
both Roman soldiery and the Temple Guards flanked the double
column of officials. At one point Caiaphas has the temerity to push up
next to myself but a glare from me and another from Quintus sent him
scurrying back to his place with the Pharisees a notable step behind
my questors.
The whole operation was tricky and yet Ayesha in bonds now and
barely covered by her cloak that shifted and flapped in the awkward
gusts of wind worked the mob well. The key was in winning them over
to her cause and yet not provoking a riot. “Peace my brothers and
sisters peace, set aside hate, it blinds you to the good in you and
darkens your souls, seek love, I will bleed for you, you will see how I
love and you will see how I turn the other cheek and do not strike back
or call for vengeance…”
There was more and the crowd was in a curious mood by the time we
got to the place of execution. There were low murmurs and outright
cries of shock, anger and appreciation as Ayesha’s set aside her cloak
with casual distain and stood before the crowd naked save for a loin
cloth. For a moment I was struck by how elegant she looked but that
elegance was soon taken from her. The whipping post was set
deliberately low with a wooden rail just before it. The condemned
could neither stand nor kneel but was forced into an awkward
undignified stoop, presenting the curve of her back to the floggers.
These were two legionaries of privileged veteran rank. Both broad
men and well-muscled, also stripped to the waist for though they
would lay on but twenty strokes apiece it was hot work. You may ask
how I can go on to describe what happened next. How could I not? It is
etched in my mind, clawed there, scoured, the furrows that my dreams
and my regrets traverse each and every night along with the rest.
I gave the command and the men set to in measured rhythm. Even the
very first strike drew a line of narrow blood across slender heaving
shoulders. Each fresh blow made Ayesha flinch and cry out in pain and
she at time threatened to fall but the rail beneath her belly prevented
that easy option. Her body shook with each impact but that only drew
the eye more to the beauty of her parts. Her modest yet well-formed
breasts that quivered between blows and yet heaved under them, her
cloth clad buttocks, delicately turned and presented to the crowd. Her
long shapely legs, struggling to hold her against the pain and the shock
of that callous assault, oh how they told each and every man that here
was a woman and worthy, more worthy than many of the men
watching and so their desire turned to hate. Her back, perfect skin
soon marred with blood red and her face, veering from agony to calm
repose time after punishing time.
I watched and drank the bitter gall until it was done. On the fortieth
stroke I declared, “Punishment is done,” So now I strode before the
mob. It was in retrospect a desperate gamble yet of course in my folly I
convinced myself that she would be safe and all well when we put the
second half of my plan into action.
So now I presented myself to the crowd and offered them a choice. “In
respect for the customs and traditions of your people the most noble
Tiberius had reaffirmed the practice of offering you the people of
Jerusalem the choice of the gift of mercy to bestow. Standing before
you are two prisoners. On the one hand you have the gracious
beautiful healer and friend to the people who stirs fear in the hearts of
cruel and unjust men who would prey upon you the honest folk while
hiding behind the protection of the law, I present to you your
proclaimed savior Ayesha.”
I indicated Ayesha where she was being unbound form the whipping
post and offered her cloak to cover her nakedness. Then with another
wave of my hand I indicated a slumped figure being carried by two
mail clad guards.
“On the other hand there stands Barabbas, villain and robber, a man
who raised rebellion that brought down untold suffering upon his
people but did he fight Rome, no in his indiscriminate madness he
preferred to prey on the weak, the vulnerable, the old and young alike,
humble peasants and noble priests. All of you were his fodder and foes
and he hated and despoiled you all, I present to you Barabbas,
terrorist, murder, bandit, rapists and defiler of holy places.”
I looked down upon the crowd and smiled briefly, surely there could
be but one choice, “So people of Jerusalem who do you chose to bestow
mercy upon, who shall I set free in your name?”
At first it went well, a few called out, mostly women and they sent up
the word “Ayesha,” But then there was turmoil at the back of the
crowd and I almost ordered out my mixed cohort of Legionaries and
Macedonian auxiliaries to quell the impending riot. Then the crowd
seemed to order itself but now it spoke with one voice, at first weakly
but then with growing strength.
“Barabbas, Barabbas, free Barabbas the defier, free Barabbas the
liberator, free Barabbas the one the Romans fear, free Barabbas, free
Barabbas,” The chant went on and on until I had to order my guards
beat on their shields and the cornicens blow to win silence.
“Very well I shall free Barabbas,” I allowed and signaled the men to
unleash him. He stumbled off. He was a pitiful wreck of a man. He
most have aged forty even fifty years in captivity and those had been
cruel years. Gone was the brave warrior who had taunted me. This
man had wisps of white hair and scarps of filthy grey beard. His hands
were gnarled and clawed and shook incessantly, his crooked feet took
slow half steps, one foot leading and the other dragging. Each carried
him but the quarter of the distance a normal man might tread and his
pace was so slow that it might have taken him all day to traverse the
square.
I was not surprised when men came forwards to help him walk. Yet he
flinched back at their faces and at last I understood. Barabbas was no
longer any threat to the Pharisees, instead he most likely wound up
with his throat slit ear to ear in some refuse tip and that was that, good
riddance to old rubbish save that he was the ploy by which evil men
condemned a good woman.
“He won’t be much of a problem anymore don’t worry Remus,”
Quintus offered.
“He is not whom I am worried about you idiot fool,” I snapped under
my breath and he flinched back a step, “So people of Jerusalem, I have
one prisoner left, the beautiful Ayesha who has helped so many of
your kin, what shall be done with her?”
The crowd went for a moment into stunned silence. “Crucify her,” That
was to my surprise a woman’s voice but others took up the call,
“Crucify her, crucify her, crucify Ayesha,” on and on it went and I did
not even bother ordering it silenced but fled away from the square and
back to my quarters. There I wept.
It was a mistake. Some wit among the ranks found her a donkey. Her
guards swept the cloak back around her shoulder and then heaved her
atop it. Not kindly but in mockery for they set her backwards and
derided her in front of the mob. Maybe it was the instinctive hatred of
the Jews that a few years’ service in Palestine always inculcates in the
common soldiers? Maybe but enough of the mob were willing to join
in the mockery, oh how easy is it to come to hate the down trodden so
often the very agents of their own oppression.
So Ayesha was forced to bear the mockery and the scorn and even
some flung debris though the guards put a stop to that as soon as
someone with worse or better aim than most scored a direct hit on a
Roman face. She rode her donkey backwards, not seeing where she
was going but bearing the hatred of petty men and jealous women and
she gave them in return only love. Would they had been worthy of it.
To Be Continued
..
