THE
LEGIONARIES
A
Short Story by
Lewis
Smith
It was
April in Judea, and the nights were still cool in the foothills around
Jerusalem. Three Roman legionaries, each
a veteran of ten years or more, sat by a small fire under the shade of a grove
of olive trees. It was dark and quiet,
and they talked quietly among themselves to fend off sleepiness. At dawn another trio of soldiers would come
to relieve them, and none of them wanted to face the flogging that sleeping on
watch would cost. Pontius Pilate was a
good prefect, who had whipped the Judean Legion into shape when he arrived
several years earlier - but he was also a strict disciplinarian, and since
being wounded in a battle with Zealots earlier in the year, he had developed a
wicked temper.
A short
distance away, a larger group of men were camped in front of a sealed
cave. Members of the elite Temple Guard
that worked for the High Priest, they had been given the primary duty of
guarding the tomb of the eccentric preacher who had been crucified that Friday. Caiaphas had detested Jesus of Nazareth and
seemed convinced that someone was going to try and steal his body if the tomb
was left unguarded. He had approached
Pilate and asked for a guard, but the Prefect was still in a foul temper over
being manipulated into crucifying the strange Galilean. He had told the High
Priest to see to the matter himself. But then Pontius Pilate had second
thoughts, and told his primipilus
centurion, Gaius Cassius Longinus, to dispatch a few legionaries to keep an eye
on the tomb and its Jewish guards in case anything untoward happened. Decius, Tiberius, and Carmello were given
the thankless task of staring at a tomb all night.
So now the
three soldiers sat and stared at the fire, occasionally standing and walking to
the edge of the light to stare at the Jews, who were numerous enough to rotate
shifts, so that five or six could remain awake while the others slept. The two groups did not acknowledge each other
in any way; the Romans regarded the Jews as uncouth, fanatical barbarians, and
the Jews regarded the Romans as a brutal occupying force in the employ of a
foreign government that they hated.
“I’ve
been here five years,” said Carmello Antonius, “and this was the strangest
Passover I’ve ever seen. I know that
this Jesus wasn’t a bloodthirsty Zealot like Bar Abbas, but he scared me. I’ve never seen anyone that could draw bigger
crowds. If he had ever given the word,
he could have had all the Jews in the province out for our blood.”
“I
think that is why he had such a huge following,” Decius said. “I went with Longinus when Pilate ordered us
to go hear this Jesus last year and make sure he was not a threat. Anyone can scream ‘Kill the foreigners!’
around here and get a few people to listen.
Jesus challenged the Jews to love each other and love their enemies. It was a much different message from the usual
rabble-rousing tirades they are used to.”
“But what about the
miracles?” Lucius Tiberius asked. “I
keep hearing these stories about lame men walking and blind men receiving their
sight. Was there anything to that?”
“I know that Stichius,
Longinus’ manservant, was at the point of death and this Jesus supposedly just
said a few words from miles away and the man was back on his feet again the
next morning,” Decius replied. “All the
other stuff I don’t know about, but I know Longinus was convinced Jesus had
performed a miracle.”
“I knew that old beggar
that used to sit by the pool of Siloam,” volunteered Carmello. “He’d been paralyzed for years, legs like
little sticks, completely useless! But I
saw him after that Jesus fellow healed him, and his calves were as big and
strong as mine!”
“That’s impossible!”
snapped Tiberius. “I can’t believe you
would fall for that!”
“I didn’t fall for
anything; I saw it with my own eyes. I
knew the old man; his legs were withered and useless one day, and as strong as
mine the next!” Carmello insisted.
“If you insist,” Tiberius
said, his tone still disbelieving. “But
here is what I don’t understand – how could the Jews turn on the Galilean so
quickly? When he rode into the city a
week ago, they were ready to crown him as their king. I was near the city gate, and I have never
seen a crowd so worked up! Then, by
Friday, the same crowd was howling for his blood!”
Decius snorted in
derision. “Who knows why Jews do
anything?” he asked. “We’ve had this province for nearly a hundred years, and
they are no closer to being civilized than they were when Pompey Magnus decided
the Republic needed this gods-forsaken place.”
Carmello nodded. “They are a fickle lot, true enough. I don’t know what Longinus sees in them, to
be honest,” he said.
“Longinus is a good
soldier, but he ain’t been right ever since he married that Jewish girl,” said
Decius. “And Cornelius is just as bad!”
“How long until dawn, you
think?” Tiberius asked to no one in particular.
“I want to get back to the barracks and get some sleep.”
“Another hour at least,”
Carmello said. “So, what did you make of
all the goings-on Friday when they nailed this Galilean up with those two Zealot
bandits?”
“An earthquake and an
eclipse the same day,” said Decius. ‘Ill
omens, according to all the ancients.”
“That was no eclipse,”
Carmello said. “The sun wasn’t obscured
a bit at a time – the whole thing grew dark all at once. I’m telling you, I think it was related to
this Jesus’ death. The gods were not
happy to see him killed! I was out there
on the crucifixion detail with Longinus, and I don’t mind telling you I was
scared. I thought the earth was going to
tear itself in two right there at the foot of the cross!”
“One of the Jewish
merchants I know – fellow by the name of Asher, a decent sort as Jews go – told
me that the big veil in the Temple that hides their Holy of Holies from prying
eyes, was torn in two from top to bottom at the same instant!” Decius
interjected.
“An earthquake could do
that naturally,” Tiberius said. “But
some of the other stories – why, I heard people saying they had seen men who
died years ago up and walking around Jerusalem!”
“That’s what you get for
listening to these superstitious barbarians,” Decius said. “It was an earthquake, nothing more.”
“Yet it started at the
moment that Jesus character died,” Carmello said. “He threw his head back and hollered ‘It is
finished!’ at the top of his lungs, then slumped down dead. Then suddenly the ground was shaking so hard
I couldn’t stand up, and lightning was striking everywhere, even though there
wasn’t a cloud in the sky – the sun was black, but I could see every star, just
like we can right now. Old Longinus was
even more scared than I was – he’d been keeping tabs on this Jesus for a while,
and I think he more than half believed some of the stuff Jesus said about
himself. He started sobbing that we had
killed the Son of God!”
“Well, he is killed,
that’s the main thing,” Tiberius said.
“Whatever or whoever he was, he’s food for the worms now. You fellows did make sure he was dead, didn’t
you?”
“I drove my spear clean
through his heart before we let his friends take the body for burial,” Carmello
said. “He didn’t even twitch, and the
blood that came out was all mingled with water.
No doubt he was dead. I don’t
even know why we are out here. Is old Caiaphas
really afraid he might come back?”
“He thinks this man’s
disciples will steal the body, and then say that he’s come back – which would
be just as bad, from the priesthood’s point of view,” said Tiberius.
“Since when are you privy
to the Jewish High Priest’s council chamber?” asked Decius.
“I was in the Prefect’s
office when Caiaphas’ messenger asked for a guard,” Decius said. “Those were his exact words.”
“Is that a shooting
star?” asked Carmello suddenly. A bright
ball of light was streaking down from the heavens, growing larger and brighter
as it drew near. The Jewish soldiers near the tomb saw it too, and were
pointing and jabbering in their native tongue.
The ball of light didn’t flicker out, like most shooting stars – it grew
bigger and brighter, lighting the entire garden in an eerie whiteness.
“It’s going to hit us!”
shrieked Decius, covering his eyes.
Over their heads, the
ball slowed down, and then suddenly split in two. Instead of a blinding white globe, two oblong
shapes slowly lowered to the earth at the tomb’s entrance. When they touched the ground, they began to
assume manlike forms. As the two sets of
guards watched in wonder, one of the white figures reached out and touched the
massive stone that covered the entrance to the Galilean’s tomb. A pulse of
light so bright that it obscured all else shot outwards from the tomb, and all
the guards – Jews and Romans alike – collapsed to the ground like dead men.
The garden was
silent. The stone now lay flat, ten feet
from the entrance to the tomb, and the figures, now resolved into tall men
wearing robes of blinding white, positioned themselves at either side of the
door, like an honor guard. As the sky began to lighten in the east, a third
figure emerged blinking into the garden.
Decius, Carmello, and
Tiberius lay still on the grass, unmoving, breathing softly. A pair of bare feet, deeply scarred above the
instep, stepped over them as the owner of those feet stepped forth into a new
day – and a new age.
