His Passing

Christ's death from the viewpoint of a Roman. 300 words

His Passing

“What is the problem here?” Prefect Maximus demanded, hiding his fright.

“We don’t know, sir. The sky suddenly darkened, and the wind is roaring.”

“What of the criminals? Check them at once!” Maximus followed several soldiers to the crosses.

“Take these people away,” he ordered as the two Marys and the disciples huddled beneath the center cross.”

He drew his sword and pierced the side of the man hanging on the cross with the placard on it that read “King of the Jews.” Clear fluid came from the wound.

“This one is dead.”

As he spoke, thunder rolled, and lightening cracked. The wind gusted harder and rain fell in torrents.

“These others as well.”

“Take them down and dispose of them,” he ordered.

As the cross was lowered, the crowd around its base begged and pleaded for the body of the man on it.

“Very well, if you must have it, take the others as well,” Maximus demanded.

Carefully, the man’s followers took up his broken body as the families and friends of the other men did the same.

Maximus ordered his men to tidy up the site, then he marched off to a quiet spot to think.

Removing his helmet, he mopped his shaven head. He sat watching. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the death of a King. But never had he been as affected as he was by one!

“What is it about this man that is different from other kings? He didn’t behave like one, certainly.”

He accepted a dipper of water from a passing water boy. He drank half and poured the rest over his still sweating head. For a second, the water stung his skin, and he gasped.

“Perhaps it is not for me to know, right now” he said softly.