Pilate left his residence and boarded his litter to make the short journey to the public square and bema where audiences took place. This process was yet another bone of contention between him and the Judeans. Roman governors sometimes held audiences outdoors, if the controversy was one of great public importance enough to draw a crowd. However, most cases could be heard in an assembly building, or in a presence chamber. Here, the locals refused to be under the same roof with him, for reasons that defied comprehension. They hated him and the feeling was mutual. He kept his audience days few and far between, but matters had piled up and he would have to spend most of the morning listening to bickering and nonsense.
He sat back for the ride, hearing the clatter of horses' hooves on the paving stones. At least this audience would be somewat different than the few he had held previously. Soldiers would keep the crowd back, allowing only the litigants to come forward. Instead of the usual clamor as spectators crowded the square, shouting to the point where he could not hear the people before him or even his own voice, now there would be some semblence of order. Antonius had laid out the details in a memo.
The litter arrived at the steps of the bema. Pilate got out, seeing the front legs and head of a blue roan on one side and those of a blood bay on the other. He kept his gaze straight ahead, got to his seat, and arranged his cloak around him. There was no way he would wear a toga in the searing heat, preferring his uniform instead. He gestured for someone to bring the first case. Flavius pointed to an advocate standing behind the cordon of soldiers with his client, and the men approached the bema. Pilate kept his eyes on the parties, not wanting to acknowledge either of his officers.
As the advocates or lawyers droned on, he found himself watching both Antonius and Messala work the crowd and their men from horseback. Pilate had grown up in Rome's toney Esquiline Hill area. He had never ridden until a few months before his first posting, when his family hired an old veteran to teach him the basics. He could vault into a saddle, not having to use a mounting block or get a boost as some delicate people did. He could make the animal stop, go, turn, speed up or slow down. Beyond that, he was not interested. Horses were a means to an end. Only men who came from the provinces viewed horsemanship as a worthwhile art.
He concluded one case and orderlies directed those litigants to a clerk's table to finalize documents. Antonius brought the next group forward. Pilate knew that the Antonys and Messalas raised desert horses, and that both young men favored larger geldings with strong stallion behaviors. The roan and the bay were prime examples. In his mind, these animals were too fancy, with sculpted heads, arched necks, thin legs, high, springy steps, and perky tail carriage. He doubted these two hobby-horses would survive a march, let alone a battle. As Pilate's mind wandered, someone dashed out of the crowd and tried to pass the cordon. Antonius' roan sprung to action, moving in front of the intruder as Antonius cracked him on the head with a vitis. Soldiers dragged the barely conscious man away. Another man tried something similar, and got a hoof in the chest from the bay. He would likely die ftom the impact before he could be interrogated.
"Idiots!" Flavius snapped. "If you're trying to prove your stupidity, case closed!"
He glanced toward Bolt, who was directing another group forward. Flavius trailed the group from the first case to make sure they left the area. He turned to collect more people as the crowd behind the row of soldiers jeered, flipped fingers, and called him every part of a pig's anatomy. They acted as though they knew him, calling him traitor, sellout, and worse. He remembered the five soldiers who had died in the Temple riot, overwhelmed, disarmed, stripped of their armor and clothing, then beaten and stomped into the marble tiles of the Temple courtyard. Most of their bones were broken by the time their bodies were recovered. If they could, this enraged crowd would do the same to him. Someone else tried to dash past the guards. Flavius brought his vitis down on the man's head.
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Domina Victrix
Historical FictionDescendants of Triumvir Mark Antony through his little-known first wife, young cousins, Victoria and Marcus, have always known they were heirs to a mixed-blessing heritage. Roman men were expected to brutally dominate their families and the world a...
