Didius tied the straps of his sandals as he prepared to report for duty. He moved slowly and hung his head in spite of the beautiful spring morning. His wife Panthia watched him from the other room. She could no longer contain her concern.
“Didius, what troubles you?” she asked.
“There are three crucifixions scheduled today,” Didius replied.
“That never troubled you before,” Panthia replied. “‘Respect for the law is respect for Caesar,’ you always said.”
“Yes, yes,” Didius said. “But I fear there will be trouble today.”
“How so?” she questioned.
“Unruly crowds forced Pilate to condemn a Jew, some say The King of the Jews. They screamed for his crucifixion. There was almost a riot,” Didius explained.
“What had he done?” Panthia asked.
“Nothing. He’s a teacher. He’s never even been in jail,” Didius said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“If the Jews want him dead, what is that to us?” Panthia huffed.
“You’d have to see him for yourself,” Didius said. “There’s just something about him: he doesn’t fight back, he doesn’t strike out in anger, he curses no one.”
“I wish we were never sent to this awful place,” Panthia said.
“I want to go back to Rome — back to our families.”
“A soldier’s life is one of orders, you know that, Panthia,” Didius said.
“I know it only too well,” his wife countered.
With that, Didus put on his helmet, sheathed his sword, and walked out of his house. Arriving at his duty post, he greeted Maximus, the guard on duty whom he was to replace.
“Greetings, Maximus,” said Didius.
“Didius,” grunted Maximus. “The prisoners are ready to begin their march to the hill. And I am ready for my march to bed,” Maximus said and handed Didius the keys to the cells and departed.
A short time later, Didius received the order to bring the prisoners out and march them to the place of execution. The route was lined with people, some jeering, cursing and spitting, while others wept in distress, barely able to follow along.
Didius was uneasy and tried his best to keep order while hurrying the proceedings along. The three were secured to their crosses, which were then raised into position; it was about noon. After a few hours, Didius, who had witnessed more crucifixions that he cared to count, knew the agony was about to end. At three o’clock the sun was obscured and the sky darkened, causing the spectators to run for cover in terror. Even Didius dropped to his knees and covered his head with his shield. An all-consuming, profound sadness saturated his being.
IT WAS FINISHED.
