The Redemption of Pontius Pilate (33 page)

Pilate knew that the city of Jerusalem relied on a few ancient wells and spring-fed pools for its water supply, and that those sources frequently became brackish and foul during drought years. A shame, he thought, that the city's rulers had never built a decent aqueduct to carry clean water to its teeming masses. But as he turned the thought over in his head, he began to wonder: why not? What better way to do a genuine service for the people that he governed and build some goodwill for Rome than to provide the people of Jerusalem with a year-round source of clean, safe drinking water?

He went to his desk and unrolled a map of Judea. Mount Hermon, the tallest mountain in the province, was capped with snow year round and was the source of numerous springs, but it was about fifty miles from Jerusalem and would make for an enormous engineering project. There was a small aqueduct leading into the city from the south, near the ancient hamlet of Bethlehem, which had been constructed during the time of Herod the Great. Four huge reservoirs, known as Solomon's Pools, had been there for many years, but the small aqueduct already there simply did not channel enough water to supply the city's need. A proper Roman-style aqueduct built parallel to this one would more than meet the demand, Pilate thought, and the distance to be covered was only about seven or eight miles. But where to secure the funding? he wondered. The two biggest holders of wealth were Herod Antipas and the Temple, but Jerusalem proper fell more within the Temple's jurisdiction. As much as he disliked the thought, Pilate would have to deal with Caiaphas.

He drew up his plans carefully, and packed them in his saddlebags when he and his men set forth the next day. He had hoped to have Porcia and Decimus come along, but he did not want them anywhere near the city while the outbreak of disease continued. Bidding them a fond farewell, he saddled up and rode alongside his soldiers as they set out. Longinus and Ambrosius were with him, and so he pulled his horse up alongside theirs as they wound their way southeast toward Jerusalem. As the cohorts fell into the rhythm of the march, Pilate broached the subject with his senior centurion.

“Longinus, I have a mission for you when we reach the city. I need to meet in private with Caiaphas the High Priest as soon as possible after our arrival. Can you go and summon him for me?” he asked.

“The High Priest will not set foot in the fortress,” said Longinus.

“I know,” said Pilate. “And I cannot set foot inside their temple. I will let him choose a neutral location where we can talk.”

Longinus nodded. “That is a wise and politic gesture,” he said. “He may even invite you to come to the Court of the Gentiles, where those like me, who worship the God of Israel but are not circumcised, are allowed to offer their sacrifices. May I ask what you wish to confer with him about?”

Pilate explained his idea for building an aqueduct to supply water to the people of Jerusalem from Solomon's Pools. Longinus nodded as Pilate explained his reasoning.

“That is a good idea, and long overdue!” he said when the governor finished. “The Temple has more than enough in its treasury to fund such a project, but—if I may be so bold—I would offer to split the expenses with them. Perhaps an end to the flux and the addition of a source of good clean water would make the people think a bit more favorably of Rome—and you.”

“Those were my thoughts exactly,” said Pilate. “Do you think Caiaphas will go along with the idea?”

Longinus thought for a long time. “I really don't know,” he said. “The Sadducees who control the Priesthood are a strange lot. They are really not very religious—not at all, compared to the Pharisees—but they do believe in trying to make this earth a better place, and they are superb politicians. If Caiaphas finds it politic to go along with your idea, he will. If he thinks the people will be against it, he won't. And he can change positions in a heartbeat. So I would make sure that, whatever agreement you come to, you get it from him in writing.”

Pilate nodded. “Good advice, centurion!” he said. “I appreciate, as always, your understanding of these strange people.” He looked at the grizzled veteran riding beside him for a long moment. “What will you do when your years in the legion are complete, Longinus?” he asked. “Will you take your Jewish wife and children back to Italy, or will you remain here in Judea?”

Longinus paused a moment before answering. “I do not know,” he said. “I have had one foot in both worlds for so long I don't really belong in either of them anymore. But Asia Province is a big place. Somewhere there will be a place my family and I can settle and live in peace.”

They camped near the old city of Ephraim that night, and the next day they pressed on toward Jerusalem. The pilgrims thronging the city for the festival gave way, grudgingly, as the three cohorts marched toward the castle of Antonia and the barracks that awaited them there. Pilate was struck by how subdued the crowds were this year compared to the year before. Smiles and laughter were not nearly as evident, and the stench of vomit, excrement, and death formed a faint, foul miasma that underlay all the normal smells of the crowd. There was the usual look of sullen resentment from some of the people, but now many of the expressions smacked of despair. Despite his dislike for these odd people he had been sent to govern, Pilate felt a certain sympathy for them. No one should have to die simply because their leaders refused to provide them with clean water to drink!

As they marched toward the barracks, the cohorts encountered no fewer than three funeral parties carrying victims of the flux outside the city walls for burial. Pilate ordered the column to halt each time as the dead were carried by. After they arrived, he assembled the legionaries for a quick talk.

“As you can see, men, the flux is taking a toll on the city. I do not want to lose any of you to it. Do not drink water from the public wells or cisterns. So far the well here inside the fort has proven safe, but if anyone gets sick after drinking from it, I will forbid it as well. Experience has shown that mixing about a small amount of wine with your water seems to prevent the flux from spreading. I do not want you drunk on duty, but the wine jars will be available for you to add to your canteens. Now be careful, and stay well. Dismissed!”

Inside the governor's quarters, he called for a scribe and dictated a short letter to the High Priest. He read it over carefully before calling on Longinus to deliver it.

Lucius Pontius Pilate, Proconsul and Prefect of Judea, to Joseph Matthew Caiaphas, High Priest of the Nation of Israel, greetings.

I am distressed to see the people of Jerusalem so gravely afflicted with the bloody flux during this holiday season. While I am sure that you are offering all the necessary prayers and sacrifices to your God to summon His aid in this crisis, we in Rome believe, as I am sure you do too, that man was blessed with two hands and a mind for a reason. If you would be willing to meet with me, I would like to discuss with you how to best alleviate the suffering this plague has brought upon Jerusalem. I realize that your religious beliefs do not allow you to enter the Praetorium, so I will meet you at the time and place of your choosing—but I would like the meeting to be soon.

Longinus donned civilian garb, including the headdress with its phylacteries that Jewish men and God-fearing Gentiles wore to the Temple, and disappeared into the masses outside the fortress. He was back in two hours' time, bearing the High Priest's reply.

Joseph Matthew Caiaphas, High Priest of the House of Israel, to the Proconsul Pontius Pilate, may the blessings of Adonai rest upon you!

For your concern on behalf of my people I thank you; and I am curious as to how you might be able to help arrest the spread of this dreadful flux in our city. For that reason I am more than willing to meet with you. There is a large colonnade along the edge of the Court of Gentiles at our Temple. At the south end of this colonnade is a guard tower. Meet me in the guardroom there an hour before noon tomorrow and we shall discuss how to overcome this crisis together.

Longinus was encouraging in his report. “Caiaphas was surprised to see me—we have met before, but I do not think he knew that I was a God-fearer,” he said to Pilate. “Once he realized that my dress was more than just a disguise, he spoke quite plainly. This flux has the priests worried. The people are angry and despairing, and looking for someone to blame. One thing you can say for the Sadducees, they hate disorder almost as much as Rome does! I think the two of you will be able to come to an agreement.”

“Thank you, Centurion,” said Pilate. “Now go get back in uniform!”

The next morning Pilate donned a plain white tunic and a simple robe trimmed with purple. He left his sword behind, but strapped on a dagger beneath the robe just in case a random Zealot chose him as a target. Escorted by four lictors—half his normal guard—he set out for the Temple. While the Fortress of Antonia actually had an adjoining wall to the Temple complex, to get to the gates that led to the Court of Gentiles Pilate had to walk down a parallel street for several hundred yards, then round a corner and up the steps to the portico. The double colonnade was most impressive, almost two hundred yards in length, and thousands of pilgrims were making their way up and down the steps as they entered and left the Temple complex. The Court of the Gentiles, which Pilate now saw for the first time, was the largest of the Temple's open-air courtyards, but it was thronged with vendors, merchants, and moneychangers. Many of the merchants were selling sacrificial animals, and the haggling and hectoring between them and their customers drowned out the chanting of the priests standing on the steps of the Inner Court.

Turning his back on the noisy crowd, Pilate walked down the colonnade to the guard tower. One of the black-clad Temple guards let him in, and there he saw the High Priest standing, looking out a window to the gardens outside the city walls. He turned and Pilate studied him at length.

Robed in black and white, with an impressive headdress, Caiaphas was about fifty years of age, as near as Pilate could tell, although his thick beard covered enough of his face to make his age uncertain. He had keen, piercing eyes and bushy brows, although his nose was not as long as that of most Jews. There was a keen intelligence behind those eyes, as well as a strong will. But for the moment, the voice that carried across the room could not have been more deferential.

“Most excellent Proconsul, I am glad to see you!” said the priest. “I feel that we got off to a poor start, and perhaps this meeting can give us a second chance to make good things happen. What do you wish to discuss?”

“The health of the people of Jerusalem,” said Pilate. “The flux is ravaging the city, and many of the victims are women and children. People are frightened and angry, which is never a good thing for those of us who are charged with keeping the peace. Tell me, Caiaphas, what do you know of the flux?”

“I know that it is a perennial hazard to city dwellers,” replied the priest. “It always seems to strike during the hottest and driest parts of the year, although it can occasionally break forth when we have had torrential rains as well. Those who contract it suffer greatly with nausea and loose bowels, and usually die or begin to recover by the end of a week's time. My brother's daughter died of it last week. Some say it is God's judgment on us for our sins; that I cannot state with any certainty. The purposes of the Almighty are His own.”

Pilate nodded. “We Romans have dealt with the flux for centuries. During the wars with Gaul and Carthage, in the days of the Republic, it ravaged our armies, killing more men than the enemy did. It was a physician in the armies of Scipio Africanus who discovered that water fouled by sewage was the chief means by which the disease spread. Since then, our armies have been very careful to locate our latrines as far from our wells as possible, and only to dump sewage into rivers well downstream from our camps. Jerusalem's water is foul, especially now when the drought has lowered the water table. Sewage from the cesspits has seeped into many of your cisterns and wells. The city needs fresh, clean water in order to check the spread of the illness.”

Caiaphas looked at him thoughtfully. “Rome is a great and resourceful power,” he said, “as the current status of my people bears witness. There are those among us who argue that we should reject every aspect of Rome's culture and law in order to restore our nation to greatness, but I believe that true wisdom lies in adopting those practices which work, regardless of who originates them. Bringing in fresh water to the city sounds wonderful, but how are you going to do it? And who would pay for it?”

Pilate was pleased by the priest's candor. “As to how it can be done, there is already an aqueduct leading from the Pools of Solomon into the city. It was built in the days of the Great Herod, but it is small and inadequate to supply the great population of Jerusalem. I propose building a bigger, wider aqueduct parallel to the existing one. It will run for about eight miles, and will deliver a constant flow of fresh, uncontaminated water to the heart of the city, whence it can be distributed wherever it is needed. My engineers can begin it before the end of the year and complete it in less than a year, if given enough workers.”

Caiaphas nodded. “And the funding?” he asked.

“Aqueducts are costly,” replied Pilate. “But I am willing to pay for half the cost from the governor's provincial budget, if the Temple will fund the other half, and urge the people to support the project.”

Caiaphas frowned. “The people do not like it when we publicly cooperate with Rome,” he said. “It fuels the radical elements among us. The money is not as big a concern to me as the public support for the project that you require of us. I will need to confer with the Sanhedrin.”

Pilate nodded. “I will await the results of your deliberations with interest,” he said. “If a public pronouncement of support is too much to ask, then at the very least I would require a letter from the priests authorizing the use of Temple funds to help construct the aqueduct.”