Centurion: Governor Pilate, we have given the Nazarene 39 lashings
as ordered by the law.
Pilate: Were you able to get anything?
Centurion: Nothing. Not even a word. It’s like milking a stone.
Pilate: He’s not a Jew for nothing! A breed of stubborn brutes!
I’m sick and tired of these people and all their troubles, damn it!
Centurion: The truth is, this beast won’t last anymore, Governor.
The prisoner is beaten to a pulp….
Pilate: Then release him. See to it that Caiphas and his gang
don’t bother me anymore.
Centurion: Caiphas and his gang are waiting for his Excellency outside….
Pilate: May the god Pluto take them to hell!… Say, where is this
man?
Centurion: The Nazarene?
Pilate: Yeah.
Centurion: He’s still in the pits with the soldiers, Governor.
A
Soldier: It’s your turn, Tatus!
Tatus: Hell! Here, everybody falls asleep… And with this heat!
Fatso: C’mon, man, cast the dice again…
Soldier: Three and two! You lost, Tatus! You’ll be the little
king!
To kill boredom for two long hours, the Roman soldiers played dice in
the humid and stinking prison cells of the Antonia Fortress…
Fatso: Hey, have this rascal blindfolded!
The game of the little king was very popular in our country. A roulette
was drawn on the floor with several drawings, and the dice were thrown
over them. The loser had to be king and blindfolded, and guess who among
his companions hit him…
Tatus: Hey, don’t make the blindfold too tight, I’m not going
to cheat!
Another
Soldier: Look what
I brought you, buddies…!
Tatus: Lemme see… Well, well! What have you done to the Jewish
prophet!… He’s been beaten to a pulp!
Another
Soldier: What did
you expect… He’s a very dangerous man.
A strong and stout soldier dragged Jesus to one of the corners of the
jail and left him there to die. His almost naked body doubled up as
he tried to catch his breath. From his back, furrowed by lashes, flowed
trickles of blood forming little pools on the wet soil…
Fatso: But, why did you bring him here?
Another
Soldier: You know
how it is in “Hell?” A cage full of birds like him!… It’s during the
holidays when we have to work hard to make them sing… This man was a
pest and I was ordered to take him some place… Here, take him! He’s
all yours!
Tatus: So this is the famous “prophet,” ha, ha, ha…
The soldier leaned and grabbed Jesus by the hair to get a glimpse of
his face…
Tatus: Bah… this “was” the prophet… but now, he’s no more than
trash. He’s a goner. It’s best to throw him on to the dunghill for the
vultures to feast on him.
Another
Soldier: You won’t
believe this, but this fellow is strong… He was able to stand the thirty-nine
lashings… This morning, two of his type didn’t last half the trip…
Fatso: Agitators! That’s what they get… and more! For being
meddlesome….
Tatus: A few months ago, I met one of these revolutionaries…
You should have heard him speak…! But his bragging didn’t last, you
know.
Fatso: Hey, enough of this and let’s go on with our game… Will
you stay, Fatso? We cast the dice, making Tatus the little king…
Soldier: Listen. Wasn’t this Jesus arrested because he said he
was king of the Jews…? Well, let him be the king! What do you think?
Tatus: Ha, ha, ha! That’s a good idea!… C’mon, let’s sit him
here… Get something to blindfold him…
Fatso: That’s it…
Tatus: Not my scarf, damn it…. Look for an old rag over there,
hurry.
Fatso: Shall we go, your Majesty, the Messiah? Ha!
Two soldiers lifted Jesus from the ground and dragged him to a small
stone bench at the center of the prison cell used to torture the prisoners...
They sat him there…
Tatus: Ha! What a throne! What do you say?
Soldier: Cover his “nakedness” Tatus!… A king in the nude loses
some dignity… Ha, ha, ha…!
Tatus: You’re right… Does your Majesty want to be caressed?
Hmmm… Here, take it!!
The soldier kicked him in the balls… Jesus’ face contracted in pain…
Tatus: You don’t play easy with Rome, my friend… Do you want
another one?
Fatso: Have him blindfolded, man… Otherwise, the game won’t
be fun…
Tatus: Okay, put on this rag… Didn’t your Jewish countrymen
say that their prophets foresee everything? Well then, let him guess
who’s giving him the blows!
Jesus’ eyes were blindfolded. Since he could hardly support himself,
one of the soldiers, held his shoulders from behind to sustain him….
Tatus: Tell us, petty king, who gave you the blow?
The first blow landed on his face, shaking his whole body…
Tatus: C’mon, say something! Aren’t you a prophet? Then, do
your job well, my friend! We, the Romans, have done our job: keeping
you at bay… Now, brave man, speak… we’re listening to you…!
Fatso: We’re all ears, King of Israel!
Soldier: Hey, man, it’s my turn now…. Take it! Now guess, prophet!
Jesus would have fallen on the ground if the soldier had not held him
from behind. Like a pair of pincers, his hands were stuck on Jesus’
blood-drenched back…
Soldier: You’re not very good at this game, my friend. You neither
cackle nor lay eggs! Ha, ha, ha!
Fatso: Hey, this is getting to be boring…
Soldier: Leave him alone… They’ll come for him soon… I think they’re
gonna release him… The governor doesn’t want any trouble with him… The
people are pretty agitated out there…
Fatso: Ha! Of course, since he claims to be the Messiah!
Tatus: The Messiah! It’s not always that you have the Messiah
in your hands! You should take advantage! Ha, ha, ha…!
Soldier: Listen. Why don’t we dress him up like a king? If indeed
he is the Messiah… So when they free him, this mob will acclaim him
as he deserves…
Tatus: Exactly!… Here, let me take care of the crown!
Fatso: Be back soon, for his Majesty is in a hurry!
Soldier: Meanwhile, let’s have a cloak for the king, buddies!
Fatso: That one over there will do! Bring it here! Ha, ha, hay!
A young soldier, with a pimpled face, took a red rag from the floor,
which, for a time must have been the cloak of someone in the group,
and now was just lying in one corner, greasy and full of dust…
Soldier: Perfect! King Messiah, the people are entrusting into
your hands, the care of the kingdom!
They put the red rag over his wounded and blood-stained back, pressing
it on to his wounds…. Jesus gave a groan, blinded by the unbearable
pain….
Soldier: That’s what you get for pretending to be a savior! Leave
us alone, my friend! Here, everyone must save his own skin!
Fatso: Take off his blindfold!… He ought to see his royal bearing!
Tatus: Here’s the crown, pals. What do you think?
Soldier: Not even King David whom these Jews revere, had it better!
It was a skullcap of blackberry thorns, almost dried, which the soldier
had pulled from the patio of the guards. Two of them hurriedly made
a braid of that macabre cap.
Soldier: Hell! This really pricks, huh!
Tatus: Put it on his head, and we’ll adjust it!
Soldier: You deserve this crown, for being so stubborn, you rebellious
little king!
The soldier placed the crown of thorns on Jesus’ dishevelled hair…
Tatus: The crown has not really touched his royal head!
Soldier: Go get a sceptre…!
They brought an olive stick, knotty and twisted, which was used to beat
the prisoners…
Tatus: Let’s go inside! Here…! Each one must hold the sceptre
and pledge obedience to the petty king, c’mon!
With the stick, they hit down on the crown, to make it settle on Jesus’
head. The thorns, sharp and hard as needles, penetrated through the
skin of the head and the forehead… From Jesus’ face flowed thick trickles
of blood….
Soldier: At your orders, your Majesty! Here, take it…!
One of the thorns got stuck in the right eye of Jesus. A whitish liquid
mixed with the blood flowed onto his cheeks…
Tatus: Hey man, you don’t do that to our king! If he becomes
blind, he won’t see how his subjects revere him!
Having gotten tired of beating him, the soldiers placed the olive stick
in Jesus’ lifeless hands, and began to gather around him, making faces
and kneeling before him…
Soldier: Cheers to the king of the Jews!
Tatus: To your health, your Majesty, the Messiah!
Soldier: Hey, but hasn’t anyone noticed that our king has grown
his beard? This can’t be!… Do you hear, my friends?… We’ll have to shave
you! This is a Roman custom and we’ve got to comply with it… Is that
okay, huh?
Jesus trembled. The soldier, heading the group grabbed his bloodstained,
curly and abundant hair with his two hands… then he started to pull
it off forcefully… Pulled from the roots, some of the hair got stuck
with the skin, causing the blood to flow profusely from the shaven cheeks…
Soldier: This is it, your Majesty! Now we can recognize you as
our Caesar! Ha, ha…!
Tatus: Cheers to the king of the Jews!
Soldier: Look at him, look at him tremble…. That’s how these men
are... They seem very boastful in the beginning, but the moment you
lay your hands on them, they even pee out of fear…!
Fatso: I knew something was missing here! Perfumes to anoint
our king! You, go get the bedpans from the small room…!
The soldiers, trained by their chiefs to make a mockery of their prisoners,
laughed boisterously… One of them came shortly, with a metal container,
which the group used in jail for their necessities.
Tatus: Give me, give me, I myself will anoint him!… Long live
the king of urine!
Excrement and urine fell on Jesus’ head, flowing through the red cloak
and over his chest... The air was filled with a nauseating odor…
Fatso: What a stink this king of the Jews makes, fellas!
Jesus felt violent throbbings all over his body caused by the thorns
on his head… His face was bathed in blood, dripping slowly down his
naked chest… The merciless laughter of the soldiers got on his nerves
like stones being hurled from a dark and bottomless pit, into which
he was sinking… He felt completely desolate… The smell of the excrement
was unbearable… He opened the one eye left unhurt by his torturers,
to take a look at those who were mocking him…. and he wept…. His tears,
saltier than his blood, rolled down his cheeks, which had become raw
flesh… He felt he was going to faint, and with his remaining strength,
wished to die….