In the Shadow of Eagles: Pontius Pilate, Bandits, and Priests A Novel

By Don Schofield

Three men stood on the precipice of one of history's most significant events: the trial and crucifixion of Christ. One a bureaucrat, another a bandit, and the third, a priest. Which one would prevail?

Pontius Pilate wanted nothing more than to succeed by his merit in his role as Roman prefect to the province of Judea. The bandit, Barabbas, a family man, sought only the necessities of a simple life. The priest, Caiaphas, was content as the ecclesiastical head of the Jewish hierarchy. However, history had other designs that led to a cross on Mount Calvary.

This novel sets out the course that each man took to arrive at that day in Jerusalem when the world changed, as did each of the three. The destinies of these men still reverberate with us today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798892433839

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In the Shadow of Eagles

Pontius Pilate, Bandits, and Priests A Novel

Don Schofield

ISBN 979-8-89243-382-2 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89243-383-9 (digital)

Copyright © 2024 by Don Schofield

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Prologue

Romans

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Bandits

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Priests

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

Author's Notes

About the Author

For Taylor, Blayne, Hayden, and L'Hannah

Other novels by this author

Matthias and the Kingdom of Kush

An Uncertain Journey

Nonfiction works by this author

Indians, Cattle, Ships, and Oil

The Story of W. M. D. Lee

Now it was the governor's custom at the festival to release a prisoner chosen by the crowd. At that time they had a well-known prisoner whose name was Barabbas. So when the crowd had gathered, Pilate asked them, Which one do you want me to release to you: Jesus Barabbas, or Jesus who is called the Messiah? For he knew it was out of self-interest that they had handed Jesus over to him.

While Pilate was sitting on the judge's seat, his wife sent him this message: Don't have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him.

But the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowd to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus executed. (Matthew 27:15–20 New International Version)

The following is a rendition of events leading to this day…

Prologue

Pontii villa, Samnium province, southeast of Rome ca. 6 CE

Claudia Flavinius was an attractive, middle-aged woman who was meticulous about most things in her life, especially how she managed the affairs of both her late husband and their two children. She tolerated contradiction as well as she would an insect invading her cherished honeypot, a problem to be addressed immediately and then eradicated. Therefore, it bewildered her why her eldest child, against her best efforts, continued to withdraw into himself, becoming almost a recluse.

A raspy voice startled Claudia, and she shook her head as if coming out of a dream while carefully maneuvering into a more comfortable position on her couch.

It is the scandal of Rome! What do you think, Claudia? the raspy voice asked.

Claudia was still rattled and her thoughts elsewhere. She had little patience for a neighbor's petty gossip.

What are you talking about, Agrippina? she asked.

Augustus, of course, and how Livia manipulates him to do whatever she wants. She is shameless!

A slave soothed Claudia's impulses with a platter of fruit followed by three goblets of wine, one for each woman reclining in the shade of a curtained pergola adjacent to the Pontii villa. The three had gathered for their twice-monthly visit.

I am sure that if Augustus can rule an empire, he can handle his wife, Claudia retorted as she again adjusted her pose on the couch. Besides, I have more important matters on my mind than the politics of Rome.

Why so modest, Claudia? Agrippina replied. It is well known that the Pontii have eyes and ears within Caesar's household. Problems at home?

Claudia pointed a finger at her neighbor but declined to respond believing that it would only invite the woman to focus her attacks on her family.

It's Pilate, isn't it? a slightly gaunt woman to Claudia's right asked as her claw-like fingers grasped a goblet and brought the drink up to her lips. I understand how his affliction would worry you. Loss of favor with the gods, so to speak.

I do not know why you and others have to keep at my son!

Claudia was losing patience.

Pilate is just having trouble adjusting to his father's death. He is young and grieves in a way that is different from you or me.

True, the woman, Julia, responded. However, it has been a year since your husband died, and the boy just seems to draw more into himself. Even my daughter, Procula, has mentioned it.

Hardly what one would expect of a Pontii, Agrippina added to the conversation as she loosened her belt around her corpulent body and took another piece of bread and cheese.

Leave my son out of this discussion! Claudia snapped. I speak for my family, and Pilate will always do as asked! Now he grieves. At the appropriate time, that, too, will pass. The gods favor his future, and I will allow nothing or anyone to interfere!

Spoken like a true mother, Agrippina replied, saluting her neighbor with a goblet of wine.

Claudia raised her eyebrows and was about to respond when she was distracted by a dark, looming figure who had entered the garden and stood facing the pavilion.

Who are you? a startled Claudia asked, putting her goblet on a large, bronze table that separated her from the other women.

A tall, bearded, and slender man dressed in a knee-length tunic and hooded robe, stepped over the threshold. He carried a large cloth sack across one shoulder.

I am the teacher, Andropolonius, ma'am. Pontius Fregellanus sent me. He said I was to instruct your son. Your slaves told me to report here.

Claudia hesitated for a moment as she scrutinized the stranger. His features certainly suited his Greek name. However, it was his luminous blue eyes that drew your attention.

Introduce us, Claudia, Julia said, perched on her couch like a cat ready to strike a defenseless prey. Agrippina was just as anxious.

Claudia waived both women off with a flick of her hand.

Uncle Fregellanus wrote and said that he would send you. However, I did not know it would be this soon. Let me take you to your pupil before you get settled. He needs to meet you.

Then turning to her visiting neighbors, she added, Ladies, you will have to entertain yourself for a while. I will return after I get this man situated and please no more talk of politics…or my son!

We promise, Agrippina said as she raised her goblet with a smile definitely meant for the Greek intruder.

Claudia, though, had already left the pergola with the new slave following. She could only hope that these were the first steps to Pilate's rehabilitation.

*****

A lanky, skinny-legged boy in only sandals and a short tunic stood on one side of a bay mare corralled inside a stall while a similarly attired young girl watched intently from the opposite side of the enclosure, the boy stroking the animal's head and neck without looking at his companion. No words were exchanged; however, it was obvious that the young girl was more interested in the boy than she was in the horse.

Pilate, do you ride her by yourself? she finally asked.

The boy, however, avoided the question and continued to stroke the animal as if he were building an invisible barrier between himself and the girl.

Nevertheless, the girl persisted.

Mama won't let me ride yet. She says that I am too little, and the horses could really hurt me. Do you think so?

The boy still refused to respond. Therefore, the girl decided to use a different tact.

She approached the horse and began to stroke its head and neck, also. Only this time she would ask no questions.

The horse suddenly shook its head and curled its lips as it nudged both the boy and girl to the sides of the stall.

Stop it! the boy shouted. Leave me alone! I don't want you here!

The girl stared at the boy. Then tears came to her eyes.

Oh, Pilate! You don't know what you want! You can keep your old horse then!

She ran out of the stall sobbing, stopping only when she ran into the obstruction of the boy's mother and a stranger.

Procula, what is the matter, dear? Claudia asked. Are you hurt? Where is Pilate?

The girl shook her head and pointed back at the stable.

Claudia was confused. However, she was also conscious that the Greek was watching and, most likely, analyzing everything. She could not let the antics of this one foolish child distract from an otherwise good impression of her son.

Go to your mother! Tell her I will be there shortly. Now go!

The girl looked up in fear and started to cry, wanting nothing more than to escape the guile of this unpleasant person. She took the opportunity that was offered and ran back to the main house and the protection of her mother.

Let me introduce you to my son, Claudia said as calmly as possible, attempting to right the disrupted climate.

Ma'am, if you do not object, the Greek responded, let me do this alone. Fregellanus told me some of what your son has experienced, and I would like to introduce myself in my own way.

Do you think that is wise? He has shut everyone else out.

At least let me try, Andropolonius answered.

Claudia thought for a moment.

Then by all means. She held out her arm pointing to the stables at the back of the villa. However, remember, he is my son. Maybe you can talk some sense into the boy. I have plans for him.

Yes, ma'am, and the man started slowly down a well-worn path that led around the main house and to a scared little boy. Truth be known, he had been in a similar circumstance himself once.

*****

Andropolonius cast a long shadow as he entered the stable where the stillness was interrupted by the occasional kick of a horse's hind leg against a stall wall. Knowing the boy could be anywhere, he moved slowly down the central corridor listening for any sign that would give up the boy's hidden location. The startled whinny of a horse from a stall near the back of the stable was as good a place to start as any.

As Andropolonius approached the last stall, he was able to peer over the top of the enclosure noticing the hand of a boy stroking the head of a bay horse.

Andropolonius approached quietly as he reached for the stall door.

Your friend? he asked as he stood at the entrance to the stall.

The boy turned and dropped his hands away from the horse. He said nothing but stared at the stranger intently.

Andropolonius took two more steps into the stall before reaching out to the horse. He began to gently pat the animal's neck and head.

I like horses too, he said. Ever since I was a young boy like you. They are almost family. Do you ride?

He continued to pat the animal which was reciprocated with a toss of its head and main.

The boy, also, reached out to the horse though never loosing eye-contact with the stranger.

What is your name? Andropolonius asked.

The boy continued to stare but did not answer.

"I am Andropolonius. Kind of a hard name to say, so my friends have shortened it to Pallo. I am a teacher that your mother brought from Rome. However, sometimes I would rather ride horses."

Pilate, the boy said very meekly.

"I am sorry. I did not hear you. Did you say Pilate?"

The boy nodded.

That's my name. Pontius Pilate. My mother should have told you.

She probably did. However, I don't remember names very well. Pilate, though, I can remember that name. It is a good name

You should remember everybody's name if you are a teacher.

Of course, you are right.

A moment of silence passed between the two.

My father gave her to me, the boy said softly as if a secret was finally revealed.

Andropolonius hesitated before he responded.

She must be a very special horse then. Do you think we could ride together?

Pilate looked surprised although not disappointed.

Let me put a halter on her. Do you ride bareback?

The boy nodded.

Good, Andropolonius said. I will lead, and you ride. He then slipped a rope over the head of the horse and looked at the boy.

Ready?

Pilate nodded as the Greek boosted the boy onto the back of the horse and opened the stall door.

Let's see what the others are up to, Andropolonius said as he led the boy and horse out of the stable to his mother and sister who were waiting impatiently not far from the entrance.

Where are you going? Claudia snapped. He could fall!

The Greek smiled as did the boy.

I am alright, Mama, Pilate replied. My horse likes the new teacher.

Are you sure you know what you are doing? Claudia asked the Greek as he passed with both the horse and boy on lead.

I haven't lost one yet, ma'am, he said. And I don't intend to.

The mother, though, was not convinced and would withhold her judgment, at least for the time being.

*****

Samnium province ca. 12 CE

A mixed compliment of twenty-five men, most dressed in red tunics with complimentary leather coverlets, polished breastplates, and plumed helmets, approached the silhouette of a walled compound as if advancing to accept the unconditional surrender of a vanquished adversary. A lone rider shrouded in lion's skin with open jaws pulled over his head led the troop bearing a standard topped with a placard engraved with the insignia, "S.P.Q.R." as various carts and other support equipment followed some distance behind. Nature favored the procession with a hazy, blue sky and intermittent wisps of clouds while a warm breeze snaked down a narrow, provincial road confined within two waist-high stone walls.

The left arm of the lead rider suddenly shot-up like a bolt.

Halt! the man shouted as the slow-moving column reacted to the unexpected command.

As if spurred by the wind, two indefinite shapes began to move through the tall grass on a course that would take them directly into the path of those using the winding, rutted road. A lone rider shattered the illusion as he with his horse chanced to jump over a wall that separated the field form the road, and race past the compliment of men, not stopping until nearly opposite the two well-appointed strangers. The horseman, a young man, probably not more than fifteen or sixteen years of age and dressed in a short, nondescript tunic, took a quick look at the intruders before turning his head and hollering at his companion.

You'll have to do better, Pallo, if you want to ride with me!

The young man then snapped the ends of his reins on the hindquarter of his horse and spurred past the column and down the rutted road. He was quickly followed by a second rider, a middle-aged male, who barely acknowledged the stalled entourage as he chased the young rider.

Of all the impertinence! the togaed stranger turned and said to his companion. Let me send two of our men and bring them back. A taste of the lash will not hurt either, I can tell you!

The younger man, however, held up an arm stopping further action.

"Not so fast, Fregellanus.