When the people saw Him they roared like the roaring thunder. And in their clamour I heard naught save “Crucify Him, crucify Him!”
Then I yielded Him to the priests who had yielded Him to me and I said to them: “Do what you will with this just man. And if it is your desire, take with you soldiers of Rome to guard Him.”
Then they took Him, and I decreed that there be written upon the cross above His head: “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” I should have said instead: “Jesus of Nazareth, a King.”
And the man was stripped and flogged and crucified.
It would have been within my power to save Him, but saving Him would have caused a revolution; and it is always wise for the governor of a Roman province not to be intolerant of the religious scruples of a conquered race.
I believe unto this hour that the man was more than an agitator. What I decreed was not my will, but rather for the sake of Rome.
Not long after, we left Syria, and from that day my wife has been a woman of sorrow. Sometimes even here in this garden I see a tragedy in her face.
I am told she talks much of Jesus to other women of Rome.
Behold, the man whose death I decreed returns from the world of shadows and enters into my own house.
And within myself I ask again and again, What is truth and what is not truth?
Can it be that the Syrian is conquering us in the quiet hours of the night?