Now this I say and testify in the Lord, that you must no longer walk as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their minds. They are darkened in their understanding, alienated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them, due to their hardness of heart. They have become callous and have given themselves up to sensuality, greedy to practice every kind of impurity. (Ephesians 4:17-19)
You get more familiar with the Pilate residence and its inhabitants. Claudia shows you Jerusalem. Once you return home, an unexpected surprise awaits you.
Chapter list
The study of Pontius is deserted at this hour, even though you had agreed to meet his wife around this time. The silence here is so deafening that you feel almost like a burden to be present here to begin with, as if you aren’t allowed inside. With your hands on your back, your eyes roam over the scrolls that are stacked high and wide in the bookcase of the office, finding it almost rude to touch them.
Breakfast had been lonely safe from Valerius being at your side. Pontius Pilate had taken a moment to himself whilst your new friend failed to show up altogether. For a mansion with so much staff, it is strangely quiet. You hope that everything is alright between the couple.
Not that you mind the silence. You figured that you’d been so used to constantly walking around on eggshells, that you’d forgotten how nice it is to not have to live up to any expectations, if only for a while.
Once you begin feeling more at ease, you take a few scrolls in order to read the titles and wonder which ones you’d like to get more into later. When you stumble upon Jewish culture, you put them aside on Pontius’ desk to bring back to your personal chambers.
You’ve acquired quite a pile when your eye falls onto a wooden cabinet standing in the corner. It is adorned on the outside, carefully carved woodwork with two small doors in the centre. For some reason, you feel drawn to it, curiosity taking the better of you as you step closer. With gentle fingers, you trace the fine handiwork of the carpenter. A lock keeps the tiny doors shut tightly, which only piques your interest. What might be inside, that it is kept behind lock and key in the middle of a private office no less?
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”
You gasp - nearly yelp - as you startle, withdrawing your hand from the chest as if it physically burned you. Pontius Pilate chuckles as he walks up behind you, giving you an amused look, “Got a bad conscience?”
You clear your throat, a bit embarrassed. “I was just waiting for Claudia to arrive.”
Pontius hums. “I see. Well, she’s not here yet. I see you’ve found the ephod.”
“The what?”
The Governor begins rummaging around through the drawers of his desk, getting ready for work.
“The ephod. The garment of the High Priest. We keep it for them to… Well, to keep it safe. Only for them to use it during religious holidays. It is quite the effective incentive for them to keep bringing in their Temple taxes. Call it… Spoils of war.”
Your eyes narrow a little, your throat running dry. “That sounds like extortion. Withholding someone’s relics from them in exchange for money is manipulative.”
The young man lets his jaw fall slack a little. “Ah… How… Interesting. A woman who isn’t afraid to voice her opinion, hm? I can tell why Atticus likes you.”
Planting your hands on your hips, you tilt your head in thought. “Are you infantilising me, Governor?”
“I wouldn’t dare, lady (Y/n).” He smiles a bit, “If anything, I think it’s quite admirable. I’ve heard many things about your husband. How did you even live with him for so many years? I’d have gone mad.”
At that, you let out a half-amused huff. “Trust me, I was on the brink of it.”
Pontius raises an eyebrow but doesn’t pry further, although that you can tell that his curiosity tempts him to. Instead, his gaze goes to the collection of scrolls you’ve put on his desk for later use. “Interested in Jewish culture, I see. Want to know more about our subjects? You’d make a good diplomat.”
“They’re not our—” You swallow hard and bite your tongue, not yet knowing Pilate’s opinion on the matter of the Roman Empire and the power it exercises of the lands of Judea, Galilee and Samaria, and you would do best to not poke that bear right now. “I don’t like to see them as our subjects. It sounds degrading.”
His lips quirk upwards in a grin. “You sound just like Claudia. Funny.”
Seeing a window of opportunity to leave the conversation, you begin gathering the scrolls in your arms.
“Speaking of whom, I’m going to see if she’s alright. I’ll be passing by your quarters, and if you deem it not too intrusive, I’ll knock on the door to see if—”
“—You won’t find her there,” Pilate says, “She’s spent the night in the guest room.”
Your heart drops unpleasantly at the revelation. “…Oh, I see.”
“Not for the reasons you’re thinking,” he tells you, “She’s been… Restless during the nights recently. Nightmares. Be kind to her, alright?”
As if you’d be mean to your literal hostess for no reason, you think to yourself. You give a small nod and leave the study, heading for your chambers first to check up on your baby and put down the scrolls for later reading. Then, you locate the guest room that Pontius spoke of, which isn’t hard to find, provided you follow the music that’s being played for her.
Gentle tunes drift out of the room, entrancing, calming. Claudia sits cross-legged on the bed with her eyes closed, trying to ease her nerves. When the musicians see you standing on the threshold, they halt in their playing, and the sudden change causes the lady of the house to open her eyes in question. When she notices you, she gives you a tired smile.
“Ah, (Y/n), come in.”
Slipping into the space, you close the door behind you and take a seat on the edge of the neatly-made bed. You wonder if she’s slept at all, judging by the dark circles under her eyes.
“What’s going on?” you ask at a low volume due to the fact that you do not wish to disturb the musicians in their concentration, “Not in the mood for a morning walk?”
Claudia closes her hollow eyes, sighing as her brow furrows. “By Jupiter, (Y/n), I’m so sorry. I totally forgot that we were supposed to meet up…”
“No harm done,” you reassure her, “It was not on purpose… You seem troubled.”
Your hostess opens her eyes and stares out in front of her, her face a little puffy due to the lack of sleep. Bringing a cup to her lips, she takes a slow sip. You can smell from here that it is not water in there, proving her current state of mind.
“The nights haven’t been merciful to me, recently,” she explains, “I’ve been having nightmares of things that I cannot explain. It’s hard to deal with. Pontius doesn’t quite get it, you know? He just complains and suggests I lay still, use some lavender oil for easier nights. If it were only that simple…”
“If there is anything you want to talk about,” you promise, “All you need to do is say the word. I know how relieving it can be to proclaim things weighing on your chest out loud to someone. Trust me, I’ve… Had my fair share of issues to process, and it all starts with acknowledging that it exists, not only mentally, but also out in the open.”
The short-haired woman gives you a watery smile, a little wry but genuine regardless. “You sound like a wise woman, (Y/n).” You give her a sheepish one in return, shrugging a little.
“Just trying to help.”
“Intelligence is hard to come by these days.”
“I’m not that knowledgeable. My father occasionally had me study some philosophy and ethics, that’s all.”
Claudia hums. “I wasn’t referring to that kind of intelligence. Emotional intelligence, I mean. Pontius… Told me a few details about the man whom you were married to… Still are, actually, ah…” She reads the discomfort right off your face, for an apologetic look appears on her own.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up. But it’s definitely admirable to see how strong you’ve remained in spite of it. As a woman under that same scrutiny, even though Pontius is not ascontrolling as your husband is, I know how it gets. How we sometimes forget ourselves.”
Your lips turn upwards a little as you reach out, gently squeezing her hand that rests on the bed. “So… We need to step up, no? If the men won’t speak for us, protect us, we will need to do so ourselves.”
Something glitters in Claudia’s eyes. Determination, or a sliver of hope. “I like the way you think.”
She offers you the cup of wine, but you refuse, not wanting to indulge before lunchtime. She turns back to watch the musicians play their subtle tunes, which are gentle and bring a sense of peace and calm. You can tell why she’s summoned them here, for the group is very talented.
“What did you do back at Capernaum,” Claudia breaks the silence, “Whenever you felt distressed about something and had no friends to talk to? I mean… I fear that you won’t be around here forever. Both of us will eventually be alone again, in our own diplomatic bubble.”
You hum and purse your lips in thought, wondering how much you can let on safely. “I… I tended to pray a lot.”
At that, Claudia scoffs. “I’ve tried that plenty of times, to multiple gods, but none seem to listen to me.” Then, a flicker of fear in her gaze. “Do you reckon they’re upset with me? Have I done something wrong, that they refuse to listen to my pleas?”
A few beats pass as you consider your next words, a sound answer that would not get you into direct trouble. However, you aren’t allowed the space, for she speaks again.
“I need to tell you something, (Y/n). And I don’t mean to sound weird.”
“Go on,” you say, leaning a bit closer, as if the musicians aren’t allowed to overhear.
“When you stepped in the other day,” she begins, “I… It was as if something within my soul stirred. As if something sparked inside my heart. Some kind of strange curiosity and conviction at the very same time.”
You’re a bit dumbfounded at the words, not sure how to react.
“I don’t mean this in some offensive way. But it’s… It is something I can see in your eyes. Like you have been touched by something that has changed you from the inside out. Something I rarely see in women of our… Background.”
A soft smile tugs at your lips. “Oh, that.”
“Do you know what I mean?” She perks up a little.
You wonder how much you should reveal. “I know what you mean. I… I’ve been praying, too.”
“To which deities? Which ones make you glow like that?”
You laugh a bit. “Oh, just One. The only true God.”
“Zeus?” Claudia offers, “Or—”
“Adonai.”
The music stops at once, the musicians gawking at your answer. Drawing a sharp breath, Claudia turns to them. “Out,” she dismisses them with a wave of her hand, “Don’t tell anyone what you’ve heard.” They gather their instruments and hurry away. Once the door clicks shut, Claudia pivots to face you, eyes wide-blown.
“But Adonai is not one of our gods.”
“I know.”
“And you pray to Him? Why? We’re not Jewish…!”
“Because of Jesus. The Preacher from Nazareth.”
Claudia’s breath hitches. “Jesus of Nazareth… He’s been gaining infamy… But you— Like— You’ve heard Him— You believe in His words, then?!”
You nod eagerly, eyes glittering with happiness. “Oh, yes!” you whisper, “Yes, I do. He’s changed my life for good. Finally, I belong. Finally, I am seen and loved for who I am, despite my shortcomings. Like, it doesn’t matter that I am a Gentile. A non-Jew. Jesus is here for others, too. Claudia, listen… This changes everything, for everyone.”
“This Man has been nothing but peaceful, so I’ve heard. Is that true?”
“Yes, it is. He said the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand, and that the first will be the last, and that everyone is invited if they only take up their cross and follow Him. Granted, some of his teachings may be controversial to the religious leaders, but still… No calls for violence whatsoever, just for true repentance and renewal because of it.”
Claudia’s eyes flash with sudden fear. “A cross, you say? Now that sounds rather… Alarming.”
“I think it’s a metaphor,” you explain, “That following Him won’t be easy, because the evil forces in this world do not want people to be saved through Him. Evil doesn’t want God to forgive their sins. Evil wants to keep people away from Truth. So it attacks, in the hopes of scaring you off.”
“Like in my dreams?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” You fiddle with your hands in your lap, “I can’t speak on Adonai’s behalf.”
The woman reaches out to put her hand over yours. “This has been very… Enlightening. We should discuss this again soon, when I’m feeling more refreshed. I am… Well, I’m absolutely astounded. But at the same time, I’m in dire need of a bath.” She grins.
You smile back, squeezing her fingers. “Of course.”
“So once I freshen up… Let’s meet up later for that walk I promised, okay? I feel awful for forgetting about it altogether. I’ll make it up to you by buying you something nice from the market.”
“No harm done,” you once again promise, getting up. “No need for gifts to make amends. Thank you for being so… Open about things. We barely know one another, and yet… It feels like we’ve been friends for years, you know?”
Claudia offers a surprised smile. “I feel the very same way. This is great. I’ll… I’ll see you in a bit, (Y/n).”
“Take care, now.” You leave the room and take a deep breath, unable to fight a small smile. This moment between you and Claudia feels loaded and important, where you were able to discuss your newfound faith without judgement and lead her in her questions. All you can do is be a witness about Jesus, and she seems to be quite receptive to it.
Heading for your chambers, you decide to study your recently acquired reading materials, but are soon halted in your tracks when a servant approaches you. “My lady,” he states, “A letter has arrived for you. A very important one.” He presents it on a silver platter, bowing his head so that he won’t look you in the eye.
“Ah, thank you,” you murmur, finding the formality odd, but then again, you are no longer residing in your own household. Clearing your throat when he doesn’t move once you’ve taken the scroll, you awkwardly add: “You’re dismissed.”
That seems to snap him out of it and he retreats, leaving you alone. Your thumb traces the mark on the parchment, your heart constricting at the familiar sight.
The seal of the Praetor of Capernaum.
Once you realise that it is no longer Quintus who has it in his possession, part of you relaxes. Regardless, your blood rushes in your ears and you hurry back into your room, where Valerius is keen to see you again.
With Valerius cradled against your chest, you hope he won’t be alarmed at the way your heart is hammering inside your ribcage when you sink down in a chair, breaking the crimson wax and unfurling the parchment. Gaius, you instantly see upon reading the name at the bottom, dated three days ago.
However, a second letter is attached to it, sealed as well. Another ring you recognise. Your relief is short-lived when your father’s insignia shimmers proudly in the light of the fireplace. You have to resist the urge tossing it into the flames completely unread.
‘Lady (Y/n), forgive me for breaking your newfound peace in Jerusalem, but one of your father’s men came to fetch you, and when I lied to him that I could not help him any further, he handed me this letter for whenever you returned. Now, of course I know you will not be coming back here, so I felt the need to send you this warning. I hope you are staying safe. Livia sends her best, too. Warm regards, Praetor Gaius. P.S. I hope my seal didn’t spook you too much, but I cannot raise suspicion by sending a letter without my sign.’
Oh, dear and friendly Gaius. Warning you post-haste before father could catch proper wind of your current whereabouts. It is only a matter of time before he will find out, of course, for word amongst officials travels fast, but you’re glad that Gaius is on your side in this entire fiasco.
Pater has not wasted any time in reaching out… With quivering hands, you crack open the seal and begin reading the familiar handwriting addressed to you.
‘(Y/n), I cannot describe the horror I felt when we heard what has transpired in Capernaum. Your mother and I are appalled to hear about your husband’s actions and fate. We understand that you are now in Capernaum and will seek you out there, but if this letter reaches you elsewhere, it means that we have failed to find you. Do not be afraid, my daughter. Do not hide from me. I will help you, provided you come home to us. Return to us at your own volition, and I promise I will disband your marriage to Praetor Quintus, and extend to Valerius a greater education that you have ever had yourself. Of course, I shall restore your honour by giving your hand in marriage to whomever I deem a good match. I hope to hear from you soon, but in the meantime, I will command my men to search for you, day and night. Flavius Decimus.”
As if sensing your sudden anxiety, Valerius bursts out into tears. Shaking yourself out of your own awful thoughts, you throw the letter into the fire so that you’ve got both hands free to comfort your son.
“No, no…” you whisper against the crown of the infant’s head, “No, we won’t go back there, Valerius. I won’t let them take you away from me— I won’t let that happen, I promise— I promise…”
You watch how the letter turns into flecks of ash, smouldering sparkles drifting into the air. It smells of burnt parchment, and you are in sudden need of air. Perhaps that Claudia is ready to go, you realise.
Getting up, you decide to ask Ruth to help you swaddle Valerius tightly against your chest, so that he’s hidden from the glare of the sun yet closely bound to you. This afternoon, you cannot bear the thought of leaving him alone here in this pretentious display of wealth and status. Once done, you head down to the foyer and see Claudia already waiting for you.
“Sorry I’m late,” you apologise.
“Don’t worry,” she smiles, “First of all, I’ve only been waiting for about five minutes. Second of all, I was the one who let you wait way longer for me. I see you’re bringing Valerius along.”
You nod and look down at the baby, who has calmed down against you. “Some fresh air will do both of us good.”
“Let’s go, then,” she gestures at the door, then leads you outside. A few steps behind, a soldier looms over the two of you, making sure that nothing will befall you. You know that he is here rather for Claudia than for you, and you take a mental note that, if you want to go outside whilst enjoying full privacy, you should explore by yourself later down the line.
It’s already busy in the city in spite of Passover being about a week off, and you peruse endless lines of market stalls where merchants from all over the continent are selling wares. “You should see this place in a few days,” Claudia muses as you are both sifting through some precious gems on display, where the woman behind the table does not eye you suspiciously for you seem wealthy enough to not steal from her, “Plenty of traders will be taking full advantage of the pilgrimage to the city.”
“I can imagine,” you say, “I mean, more people means more business.”
You buy nothing, much to the merchant’s dismay, and continue your trek down to the Temple. Its walls are already grand from a distance as they are, with pillars and fine plasterwork.
However, the second your step through the gates onto the Temple Square, all air leaves your lungs when you gasp in awe. You are filled with a sense of wonder.
“Oh, it’s beautiful...”
Just when you turn back to Claudia, you are nearly knocked over by a shepherd leading a flock of spotless lambs right through your path.
You regain your balance quickly, cradling Valerius to your chest.
“Watch it!” the shepherd snaps. The young soldier escorting you and Claudia quickly steps between you and the sheep, and you frown as you watch the shepherd usher them into a pen that’s way too tiny for the number of lambs he’s got, and he roughly shoves the gate shut.
“Is this allowed?” you wonder.
“Oh, they always set up market here. These are the animals for sacrifice at the Temple.” Claudia explains matter-of-factly. “There’s doves, sheep and other cattle up for sale at extreme rates. But apparently, the cleansing of sins requires quite the sacrifice.”
You swallow visibly. “A sacrifice?”
“Well, those sheep go for more than a month’s pay by their standards.”
“Ah,” you murmur, “Like that.”
You continue your tour of the city, concluding Jerusalem with a trip over the ancient city walls that overlook the crowded Temple Square. From up here, you can see the business even better. Dusk begins to fall whilst you enjoy a pastry bought from a local stall, and Claudia munches quietly before speaking up: “Tell me more about Jesus’ teachings.”
You blink, looking up from nursing Valerius, and glance at her to witness the intensely curious look on her face. Claudia is watching you with such hope that your spirit lurches within you, your heart ready to spill over.
And so, you tell her more, all details included. You tell her about the loneliness, the fear, the misery. About how you first heard of Jesus, how you caught wind of His teachings, and how you began to yearn for more, deep inside your heart. About His promise to you: we will meet again, later down the line.
Claudia does not miss a beat. You conclude your story when it’s already dark, and you only get up once it becomes too chilly to stay outside. The Square has started to empty, serene under the blanket of night.
“Thank you for today,” the lady of the house expresses her gratitude, “I’ve learnt a whole lot. You should teach me more some time.”
You smile and nod, agreeing wholeheartedly.
When you arrive back at the mansion, there is a strange tension in the air. Whispers amongst the servants once you step inside, and glances cast your way. Instinctively, you hold Valerius a little closer.
“What’s going on?”
The second the question leaves your lips, Pontius Pilate appears on the threshold of the dining hall, then is promptly shoved aside by something - someone - way smaller than him. A cheer bounces off the walls.
“Amita (Y/n)!”
Aurelia’s red hair falls over her face as she comes to a screeching halt right against you, wrapping her tiny arms around your waist, and she presses her face against your thigh in a firm embrace.
“Aurelia?” you croak in pure disbelief, “What are you doing here?!”
Next to Pontius, your brother appears, offering a small smile. “Hello, little sis.”
“Lucius!” He approaches you before you can walk up to him, and he hugs you warmly, careful to not crush the bundle still swaddled to your form. “What— How— I’m so confused!” Your heart is beating rapidly.
He laughs and kisses the crown of your head.
“Let me explain it over a private meal?” he suggests.
Ho sempre pensato che essere buoni e gentili fosse la scelta giusta. Che non bisognasse mai deridere le disgrazie o le difficoltà di qualcuno, perché oggi può capitare a lui e domani potrebbe toccare a noi. La vita è imprevedibile e, prima o poi, ci mette tutti nella condizione di aver bisogno della comprensione di qualcun altro.
Eppure, sempre più spesso, mi ritrovo ad avere a che fare con comportamenti che rischiano di farmi cambiare idea sul mondo e sulle persone. A volte mi chiedo se abbia davvero senso continuare a tendere una mano, aiutare il prossimo o semplicemente scegliere la gentilezza. Perché, nonostante si cerchi di non alimentare odio o negatività, finiamo comunque per esserne travolti. Da persone che ci trattano male, che magari nemmeno conosciamo davvero, o alle quali, in un momento difficile della loro vita, abbiamo persino cercato di fare del bene.
Quando io non sto bene, quando sono sopraffatta dallo stress o da un periodo complicato, tendo a chiudermi. Cerco di fare silenzio, di prendere le distanze, ma soprattutto di non riversare il mio malessere sugli altri. Non sempre ci riesco alla perfezione, ma ci provo. Per questo faccio fatica a comprendere chi, invece, usa il proprio dolore come giustificazione per ferire chi gli sta intorno.
Forse è proprio qui che nasce la domanda più importante: perché alcune persone riescono a trasformare la sofferenza in empatia, mentre altre la trasformano in rabbia? Perché c'è chi, dopo essere stato ferito, sceglie di non infliggere lo stesso dolore agli altri e chi, invece, finisce per perpetuare quel circolo?
Forse non esiste una risposta giusta. O forse ognuno affronta le proprie emozioni con gli strumenti che ha. Ma credo che valga la pena fermarsi, ogni tanto, e chiedersi che tipo di persona vogliamo essere quando la vita ci mette alla prova.
Perché è facile essere gentili quando tutto va bene. La vera differenza la fa il modo in cui scegliamo di trattare gli altri quando, invece, dentro di noi si sta combattendo una battaglia.
E forse la gentilezza non rende il mondo perfetto. Ma può impedire che diventi un posto ancora più duro di quanto, a volte, non sia già.
Ho notato che quando sei troppo gentile, le persone iniziano a mancarti di rispetto. Prendono la tua gentilezza come debolezza, pensando di poterti calpestare. Ti sottovalutano, credendo che tu sia 'molle' solo perché sei una brava persona, ma quando ti spingono troppo oltre, vedranno una parte di te che non sono pronti ad affrontare. Se sei sempre gentile, sempre pronto a fare qualcosa per gli altri, loro si abitueranno a riceverlo e penseranno di poter approfittarsene. È in quel momento che devi alzarti e mostrare loro una parte di te che non hanno mai visto. Essere gentili non significa tollerare le loro puttanate. "Tratta gli altri come vorresti essere trattato" è una stronzata. Se non ricevo rispetto in cambio, non sono obbligato a continuare ad essere gentile. Alcune persone non meritano la tua gentilezza, meritano di essere messe al loro posto. Quindi ricorda, avere un cuore buono non significa dover sopportare le idiozie di chiunque.
