Vengeance is Mine

[Written circa 2002]


Vengeance is Mine

   By Leigh D. Doubledee

Now, when the scribes heard of this, they went and told Pilot that the Jew would have to be punished. They would have nailed Him to a cross that moment, but Pilot declined, saying that each man under his rule must have the chance to defend himself before his governor. He insisted, though they argued, and when Jesus was called by the guard, He left his cell and came and stood before Pilot.

       “What have you to say for yourself?” the governor asked in a gruff voice. A mastiff at his side snarled and made it clear that none might approach and live. Two chickadees in a hempen cage tossed their beaks skyward now and then in little trills.

       Jesus waited for someone to address him. He seemed not to have heard Pontias. The ruler, with a sudden flourish, loosed the chain that held the Great Dane and it leapt at the man in white before them. It charged, and in a second launched itself bodily into the air at the Christ. The Holy One moved not a muscle; He stood there still and silent. The beast seemed about to tear into His throat, but abruptly in his forward motion he came to a shocking stop, as if he had hit a brick wall. The nose of the dog actually dented in, and his teeth ground on a hard substance and brake. Fragments of enamel flew through the air, scattering on the stone steps. The Christ seemed unimpressed or almost unaware. He cleared his throat, and asked Pilot what it was that he had said.

       Livid, the governor took hold of a staff at his side, one bedecked in shards of glass and pointed with innumerable hooks, barbs and glinting blades. He wheeled it above him and brought it down with a curse and with enormous force on the Savior’s head.
       “There, you ingrate! Take that!” he shouted and then his wooden pole appeared to bounce off a substance hard and resilient. It rebounded back at him with such force that it sheered deep into his shoulder, cleaving it and the arm free from his body. The limb flew through the air and fell near the mastiff, which sniffed it and licked the blood. Pilot stood still in the moment before pain, and the look on his face would have surprised a devil of the fourth level of apprenticeship. Then the hurt came and he screamed three times before he collapsed and twitched on the ground at Jesus’s feet.

       “There, there,” the master intoned. “You will be alright. I will see to it that you don’t die.” With that, he took him by the sleeve, lifted him up and set him on his feet.

       “What was it were you saying?” Jesus asked Pilot. Pilot continued looking at the wound and making loud noises. He pointed at it with his other hand and howled and pointed some more. He turned to the courtesans and retainers around him and indicated his injury, bellowing for them to provide him some comfort. They said nothing, but stood there in confusion.

       In sudden and terrible rage, Pilot launched himself at Jesus full bodily as if to tackle Him. He bit at Jesus’s shoulder with foam and spittle flying, and snarling coming from his lips. His words were incoherent. He snapped and chomped at the Savior and would have inflicted severe injury on Him, but some impediment kept his teeth from finding their mark. Instead, they met with stony resistance of an invisible sort. They crunched on stone, they splintered, they brake apart, and flew, like the beast’s, about the feet of our Lord. Pilot, blood dribbling from his mouth, roared his agony and anger at the gaping crowds.

       “Help me hurt Him!” he seemed to be shouting, again and again. No one responded. No one could understand his babble.

       Jesus took him by the arm that was left to him and led him gently away across the tiled floor toward the palace entrance. Pilot looked back over his shoulder, terror in his eyes, emitting loud unintelligible cries and pulling back to be released from the Son of God's light grasp, but all to no avail. He disappeared through the gate. Watchers saw him walk reluctantly with our Lord down the street before the palace and turn a sudden corner into a narrow lane. He was never seen again.