The Guard

                                                                                       

The Guard

             My wife woke me that night to get me up to go on duty as a guard. It paid a few coins, provided for us, and kept a roof over our heads. Raising young children at this time was hard and I knew I had to go. I had awakened with this eerie feeling, it was such strange feeling, like I knew that something was up. Little did I know it was going to be the longest night and day of my life, and the last?
 
             I arrived at our quarters outside the palace that night. There were other guards there I didn't know, or recognize. I just figured they had been called up for special duty that night. We were the royal guard, the proudest of Roman soldiers. It is usually a special, easy detail. I had never been with this group of guards. Although we have not marched together before we marched up to the palace in perfect formation. How could it be any different?

           That night I found myself with the guard to the Governor Pontius Pilate. He was the soldier/ruler of Judea, and given the power of the Roman Empire. I thought that I wasn't worthy of such a prestigious duty. Now here I was now as proud as can be. I found myself on an assignment with the elite of the elite. I had worked so hard training for all the newest techniques of war.

           At the palace, a man bloody and beaten was brought into the room. The room was bright, not like my home, cold and dark. The torches smelled of the animal oil. They gave of light and smoke. At least they had the good oil, and it didn't smoke as much as mine. They were beating this man with a shard whip. This had to be the most hated man on earth. What had this man done to deserve this punishment? Unspeakable things were done by others in private, but never in front of a politician; they needed to keep their hands clean of any dirty work. That way if a mistake was ever made they would be able to deny it. 

           There were many officials, Rabbi's from the Jewish temple at the palace. They hated this person. I was taught never to think for myself, just to obey orders. I didn't know what was going on. Something just didn't seem right. The head leaders of the temple kept accusing the beaten man of different things. They told Pilate of meetings on mounds, and how he gathered all the masses. He may have been talking to them about an uprising, and about a new kingdom. He told the people how he would rule the world with God. He fed them, and gave them drink. He was accused of sorcery to make food appear from nowhere. "He says it's from God, but we tell you it is from sorcery from the devil." claimed the accusers.

            When Pilate didn't respond to the accusations, they just came up with more. In desperation they told Pilate that he was going to be the King of the Jews, and attack Rome. Pilate chuckled to himself, but asked the man “If he was a king.” He didn't answer. I was ordered to hit him, and make him answer. I smote him across his face, causing blood to spurt from his lips, and teeth. I did what I was told, my duty. He answered “If you say I am a king then I am.”

             The officials from the temple told Pontius Pilate, "See he thinks he is a king, a direct threat to the Roman Government." Pilate said “Why haven't I ever heard of him before this day if you are so concerned. From what I have heard this man has done nothing wrong.”  The Rabbi's told Pilate, “But he has taught this through all of Galilee.” Pilate finally got a way out of this and said, “Oh so he is a Galilean, which is out of my jurisdiction. Bring him to Herod.”

           We grabbed this man, marched him over to Herod. The accusations and stories where all told again. Herod found the man innocent, and said he was not his problem. So he sent us back to Pilate. We marched the man back to the palace again. The captain told Pilate of what happened with Herod. Pilate becoming weary of this told the guards to take him away, and use all our methods available to make him talk.

           We tortured him through the night by every means at our disposal. Our captain reported to Governor Pilate, "that he had not admitted to any guilt. He was just praying to some father for mercy." It was a very ugly night for me. It was like beating a lamb, being accused of eating a wolf. It was ugly, horrid. I am a soldier, an elite guard. I felt sick to my stomach.

           As the sun rose, I thought I would be relieved. I wanted to go home and hug my wife, and kids. I knew my life had already changed but I didn't know how. We were ordered to take this man out to a crowd. The governor told the crowd that they could release one prisoner.
they could pick this beat up, bloody person who I don't even know, or ever heard of before tonight, or this murderous thief. The crowd picked the murderer.

           I had tracked this person down. He had found this family of goods traders. They were moving to a different city. Their goods were seasonal, and they were heading to a new place. While encamped, this murderous person had killed the parents, and did unspeakable things to the children. A boy was left, cut up everywhere. I had found him before he died, and by the description he gave me, I knew who this person was, his name was Barabbas. The boy confirmed it in my mind before he died.

            When we captured him, we found him with the goods, and brought him to justice, but just as a thief. Now this man was being released by the crowd. A tear was forming in my eye, thinking of the boy dying in my arms. This man Barabbas was getting away with murder. Meanwhile this man, who I am not sure what he even did, was going to be put to death. I am a soldier. I can't afford to have emotions, but this was wrong.

           Our group of soldiers was ordered to crucify this man. Some of the soldiers mocking him put a crown of thorns on his head saying, "That every king needed a crown." The others soldiers broke out in laughter. The noise of the crowd was getting louder. They started tormenting him step by step. There were three that day to be crucified. They made him carry his own cross. If he fell, I was ordered to whip him.

            The cross was heavy, and he was very weak. There were people throwing things at him.Some struck him in the face, causing him to drop to the cross and fall and get whipped. I witnessed people tripping him. I whipped him again and he cried out in pain. It was an agonizing walk; I was getting tired from whipping him. He tired and fell on his own. Ordered to whip him again, I was reaching my end, not wanting to whip him any more. Then someone helped him carry his cross.The man was up and walking again. He staggered but kept moving without falling. I was so glad because I don't think I could have whipped him anymore, and he made it so I would not have to.

           We reached the site on the mound. The three were laid on the crosses and tied on. Two of them that were tied on were hoisted up to be set into the hold that held  the cross. I heard a woman call the third man Jesus. I was thinking to myself this was the first time I had heard his name. I heard him say to her weakly “I love you Mary.”

            I was getting ready to help hoist him up when the captain said to wait. He took out three nails and a mallet from a bag. He held them up, and the crowd cheered. He handed me the nails and the mallet. This wasn't something normally done, we saved this for the most retched murderers, usually someone who had murdered one of our own men. I held the nail to his hand. This man Jesus couldn't see what was going on because of the blood running into his eyes. I struck the nail, piercing the hand while going into the cross. His blood sprayed over my hands and arms. The man screamed in agony. I nailed the other hand, then his feet. I felt sick; this duty wasn't a very pleasant task.

           I had killed in battle, but this was different. We hoisted him up, and dropped the cross into the hold, causing great pain to the man. The crowd was cheering. They kept up their torment, ridiculing him. Some saying, "if your the son of God, save yourself."

            I thought to myself, Son of God, what are they talking about?

            Hours had pasted, it felt like days to me. One of the soldiers offered him a drink; I thought it was to keep him alive to suffer a little longer. It was vinegar, which just burned his swollen, bloody lips. I heard him talking. He had turned his head slightly toward his companions, who were on their own crosses. "I say to you now, you are forgiven, and we will be together in paradise."

            I thought, Paradise, what paradise, the three would all die soon; he must be delirious from the pain.

           Then what he said next I will never forget “Father why have you forsaken me.”

           These words rang in my ears. A strange feeling swept over me like a wave. I didn't understand the feeling, or where it came from, it filled me with compassion for this man. I felt that I had to do something to end his suffering I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed my spear and stuck it into his side, making sure I pierced his heart, as his blood now covered me. A cry of pain came from this man, with a turned up lip that looked like a slight smile that I could only see. It was finally over.

            Within moments, the captain saw what I had done and grabbed my spear. "You are a disgrace to your uniform!" he said before he turned to my fellow soldiers. "Take him away!"

             Several of them dragged me away from the crowd, while the captain gave his final orders. "He will die without honor."

             Not long after that, I was stripped naked and told to get on my knees. I did as I was told, all while wondering if my family would suffer a worse fate than this; a family of a disgraced soldier. Then I pictured in my mind the bloody man on the cross, and that slight smile. I didn't have long to think about it when I felt several swords enter my body. I died with my blood mingling with his.


                                                                                           

Thomas Seeker