A Roman Soldier's Story Join the Roman army, they said. See the world! Meet interesting people! Bring peace and prosperity to backward countries and make your own fortune. Except it hasn't been like that for me. Instead of being honourably retired, enjoying the sunshine of my home town in Italy, I've been sent to this unwelcoming town in Britannia, in the far north of the Empire - the back of beyond. And it's all because of my ill-fated posting in Palestine last year, and the events that happened there. Now, no Roman soldier likes to serve in Palestine. It s full of fanatical people who believe that there is only one true God, and that they are his chosen people. They have a massive temple in their capital city, Jerusalem, and every year there s a special feast the Passover, they call it - when more than a million people come from all over the world to celebrate their religion. Thousands of animals are sacrificed, the air is polluted with smoke - and there is always the possibility of rebellion breaking out. You see, the thing is that the Jews in Palestine hate being under Roman occupation. They are a proud people who want to be free to live under the rule of their God. Well, in my opinion, they should have fought a bit harder when we invaded, so it's too late to cry about that now. And, frankly, the country is better ruled under the Romans than it ever was before. At least there are decent roads. But they don t see it that way. We seemed to spend most of our time marching through the deserts and hills rounding up small bands of rebels. We'd catch a few of them, march them to the nearest town, nail them to crosses and hang them by the roadside with a big sign: "This is what you get if
you resist Rome". But it didn't stop them - next month there would be another gang to round up. The last one I dealt with was led by a man called Barabbas - a vicious murderer who didn't just fight the Romans, but attacked his own people. Just a common robber, really. We caught him, and he was in prison in Jerusalem, waiting for execution. We always liked a crucifixion just before the feast it concentrated the minds of the visitors, and discouraged grumbling. But there was a very different kind of rebel who was causing even more worry to the Jewish leaders. His name was Jesus, and he wasn't interested in swords and spears - only in love and kindness. He was a teacher, not a fighter, and his message was getting through to people. There were a lot of stories about him performing miracles - healing people, walking on water, raising the dead - but I wouldn't know about that. The first time I actually saw him was two days before he died, at the Passover feast. I was on duty outside the Temple, just watching for trouble, when I caught sight of him in the middle of a crowd. It looked like some people were trying to get him confused with tricky questions, but the crowd all cheered when he came up with a wise answer. The only ones who weren t pleased were the Temple officials, the High Priest s people. They stood just apart from the crowd, with faces like thunder. Mark my words, I said to my companion, they re not going to put up with this for long. So I was not surprised when, next night, Thursday, I was woken up about ten o'clock with instructions from my centurion: I was to accompany the Temple guards who were being sent to arrest Jesus - just to observe and make sure there was no trouble. As I suspected, the Jewish leaders had been trying to
shut him up for weeks. They hadn t dared to try and arrest him in front of the crowds in case of a riot; but they had had a bit of good luck. One of his disciples, Judas, had offered to lead them to him when he was on his own - for money of course: I was a bit disgusted, but that's the way things go. Judas led us up to a quiet wooded area on a hillside just outside the city walls. In the darkness I could see a group of people, and I wondered how they were going to capture Jesus in the gloom and the confusion. I needn't have worried: one of the leaders shouted out "Which one of you is Jesus?", and he just walked forward and said "I am". For some reason they all fell on the ground, but Judas, bold as you like, walked forward and hugged him: "Master!" Jesus stood back, looked Judas in the eyes and just said, "So this is how you betray me." Then he walked to the guards, and gave himself up. We went back to the city, to the house of the Chief Priest. He had a large meeting room which was packed with all the important people in Jerusalem, all jostling for a good view in the smoky candlelight. I didn't go in, as a Roman, of course, but I could hear Jesus being questioned, answering, and roars from the crowd at what he was saying. I did hear the last question, though, spoken in a louder voice: "Are you the Son of God?" There was a pause. Everyone held their breath. I knew enough about the Jewish religion to know that this was the clincher - they believed in one God, and no one else could claim to be anything close to that. "It is as you say", said Jesus. "And one day you will see me sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven."
That was enough for them. A howling broke out. They were tearing their clothes and trying to get at Jesus. Two temple guards hurried him out and said to me: "Take him to Pilate". I was quite relieved at that. You see, the local leaders weren't allowed to execute anyone themselves - one of the rules we used to govern the country - and I knew that Pilate would see fair play: if Jesus was innocent, he'd find a way to release him. I had a bad feeling about the whole thing, and I felt that justice wasn t being done. I marched Jesus into Pilate's judgment room, and stood there while they talked. This time It was more of a conversation than a trial, and to be honest, I didn't follow all of it - they talked about kings, kingdoms, heaven, earth, truth - but at the end Pilate said to the watching representatives of the Jews: "I find nothing wrong with this man." They weren't happy at that. "He must be executed", they said. "He is causing trouble. Caesar, your emperor, won't be pleased if you let it go on". Pilate was a bit worried at that - you don't want bad reports going back to the emperor. So he began looking for a way out. First, he took Jesus to the balcony overlooking a great square, where there were hundreds gathered who had heard what was going on. He put Jesus up in front of them, gestured for silence, then said: "This man is innocent". The only response was a roar of hatred: "No, we want him dead". He tried again: "Do you want me to kill your king?" "Caesar is our only king", they shouted back. First time I ever heard a Jewish crowd say that! I could see Pilate was thinking hard. His next move was very clever. Remember I told you earlier about the murdering rebel, Barabbas? Pilate had
him brought up from the cells, and there they stood - Pilate in the middle, Barabbas on his left, Jesus on his right. "You know", he said, "that at this time every year I release a condemned prisoner, to show the grace and forgiveness of the mighty Roman Empire. Now I give you a choice: shall I release the vile murderer Barabbas, or the good teacher Jesus?" You could easily tell what answer he was expecting, but the crowd shouted back, "Barabbas. Release Barabbas!" "Well", he said, taken aback by their response, "what shall I do with Jesus?" "Crucify him!" shouted the crowd. Pilate then did something very strange and very solemn. He had a servant bring a bowl and a jug, and, standing in front of the silent crowd, he poured out some water. "I am washing my hands of this business", he said. "The blood of this innocent man is on your heads". "That's fine!" shouted the crowds. "We will take the responsibility. Just execute him." With a strange, sad and worried face, Pilate turned to me: "You know what to do", he said. I took Jesus away and made the arrangements for his death. Some soldiers enjoy the chance to bully and mock people when they can't fight back, so some nasty things went on as Jesus was beaten, had a crown of thorns forced onto his head, and was made to carry his cross up to the hill of executions - Golgotha, the Place of the Skull. I had crucified many people before, but this time I felt that there was something very wrong. Six hours later he was dead. Believe me, I ve done this job enough times to know when it s done right. He was dead. Some of the women who had stayed
all day took his body, washed it, wrapped it in clean cloths and placed it in a cave, which was how they buried people in Palestine. A heavy stone was rolled across the cave entrance, and the grave was sealed. I went back to the barracks, exhausted, after what had been probably the hardest day of my life. But within an hour I was summoned back by the captain of my guards, and told to place a watch over the tomb. "You see", he said, "Apparently, this Jesus said he was going to rise from the dead. There's been a rumour that his disciples might steal the body and pretend that he is alive again. We're just making absolutely sure there's no room for doubt." Wearily, I dragged myself off with a few of the men, and we set up camp right outside the tomb. And there we stayed all Friday night, all the next day and all Saturday night. We played dice, we told stories, we reminisced about our home towns and our families. It was just growing light, and some of us were nodding off, when there was a terrific crash, and a flood of light. The stone rolled away from the tomb, and we were dazzled by the brilliance pouring out from the empty cave. There was the figure of a man - an angel, I reckon - and that was enough for us. We didn't stop running until we reached the barracks, and ran full tilt into the captain of the guards. "What's going on?", he asked. We could hardly find words. "The cave.. bright light.. an angel.. he's.. he's.." "Calm down!" said the captain, and tell me what happened. "Well", I said, "You're not going to like this, but.. Jesus is alive". We told him all we had seen. He stood for a few minutes, stroking his beard, and then said. "Listen, lads. There's going to be real trouble if this gets out.
We need a cover story. Let's say that his disciples came and stole the body while you were asleep." We looked at one another, but what could we do? We were Roman soldiers, under orders. "OK, chief", I said. And that is the story that is still told in Jerusalem to this day. But I caught my captain looking at me in a funny way over the next few days, so it wasn't really a surprise when I received a letter transferring me to another post, far away from Palestine, where it wouldn't matter if I talked about what I had seen. So here I am. And, officially, I am still under reprimand for falling asleep on duty, and allowing a body to be stolen from a grave. But make no mistake. His disciples didn't steal the body. He rose again. I know - because I was there. Pete Wildman 2017