Free The Redemption of Pontius Pilate by Lewis Ben Smith

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    The other relationship that continued to be successful in Pilate’s life was his ongoing political relationship with the Emperor. It became obvious early on that Tiberius was never going to enjoy the love of the Roman people as Augustus and Julius Caesar had. His glum and morose nature forbade familiarity, and his disdain for flattery stymied those who sought his favor. His relationship with the Senate was awkward, to say the least—rather than regard them as a tame body of legislative consultants, as Augustus had, he seemed to want them to actually govern, at least at first. But their confusion about his wishes and uncertainty as to their political independence rendered them ineffectual, so Tiberius gradually took up the reins of power his adopted father had wielded, but he never held them as easily or as competently as Augustus had. As time went by, it was more and more evident that the new Emperor of Rome simply did not like Romans very much at all—or the city itself, for that matter. Tiberius had moved into the house of Augustus at first, but the presence of his mother, Livia, drove him to distraction, so he retired to his villa outside the city. When she continued to visit him there once every week or so, he took to going on long rides around the countryside, staying in the homes of various senators and notables. Eventually he discovered the Villa Jovis, a magnificent summer palace that Augustus had built on the Isle of Capri, and took to spending several months of the year there. Pilate came to see him occasionally there on business, and he noted that Tiberius never seemed happier than when he was on the lightly populated island, enjoying the company of a few select servants and close associates.
    “Look at this place!” he said one evening as he guided Pilate through a lovely atrium, open to the Mediterranean breeze on the north end. Tiberius was leaning against a column, surveying the sea. The moon was setting, turning the water into quicksilver flames. “This is the only place I find peace anymore, Lucius Pontius. I dread every time I have to leave here and return to Rome, and yet my duties keep me going back to that horrible city. There are times I wish I could stock up a boat full of food, water, and a few musicians and servants, and sail west until I could find the place that the sun goes when it leaves our skies in the evening.”
    Pilate stood beside him, thoughtfully. “I suppose, Sire, that you would eventually find another land somewhere out there beyond Spain. Of course, it would be filled with people, and noise, and politics, and all the other things you left here to escape.”
    Tiberius glared at him. “That is a terrible way to speak of another man’s dream!” he said in mock anger.
    “Well, sir, you did always ask me to give a candid opinion,” said Pilate. “And right now, my candid opinion is that the Senate is getting restive at your absence. Some are even whispering that Germanicus might have been a better successor to your father after all!”
    “They are, are they?” asked the Emperor, suddenly dead serious. “The issue of Germanicus is quite troubling to me, Pilate. He is a brilliant general and a beloved figure by the people, but he is also my adopted son and a loyal family member. He inherited the natural charisma that is the Julian trait—one I did not inherit and have never been able to cultivate. I give the Empire peace, and prosperity, and sound legislation, and they call me a sour old man. He slays enemies on the battlefield, and he is the darling of Rome! If I were a more vindictive man, young Germanicus might not live to become old Germanicus!” he snapped.
    He walked across the polished marble floor to the far wall. A huge staircase swept upward to the next floor of the villa, but a small door opened in the wall under it. From the outside it looked like a storage closet, but inside was a lacquered teakwood desk with an inkwell and papyrus, and a small curule