Killing Jesus: A History (3 page)

Herod is the intermediary in this precarious relationship. The Romans will hold him accountable for any problems caused by an alleged new king of the Jews. They will not tolerate a ruler they have not themselves chosen. And if the followers of this new “king” foment revolution, it is certain that the Romans will immediately step in to brutally crush this voice of dissent. Better that Herod handle it himself.

Herod cannot see Bethlehem from his palace, but it is roughly six miles away, on the far side of some low green hills. He cannot see the blood flowing in its streets right now, nor hear the wails of the terrified children and their parents. As Herod gazes out from his palace, he does so with a clean conscience. Let others condemn him for murdering more than a dozen infants. He will sleep well tonight, knowing that the killings are for the good of his reign, the good of Judea, and the good of Rome. If Caesar Augustus hears of this slaughter, he will surely understand: Herod is doing what must be done.

*   *   *

Jesus and his family barely get out of Bethlehem alive. Joseph awakes from a terrifying dream and has a vision of what is to come. He rouses Mary and Jesus in the dead of night and they escape. Herod’s soldiers arrive too late. They butcher the babies in vain, fulfilling a prophecy made five hundred years earlier by the contrarian prophet Jeremiah.
⁹

There are many more prophecies about the life of Jesus outlined in Scripture. Slowly but surely, as this child grows to manhood, those predictions will also come true. Jesus’s behavior will see him branded as a revolutionary, known throughout Judea for his startling speeches and offbeat teachings. He will be adored by the Jewish people but will become a threat to those who profit from the populace: the high priests, the scribes, the elders, the puppet rulers of Judea, and, most of all, the Roman Empire.

And Rome does not tolerate a threat. Thanks to the examples of empires such as those of the Macedonians, Greeks, and Persians that came before them, the Romans have learned and mastered the arts of torture and persecution. Revolutionaries and troublemakers are dealt with in harsh and horrific fashion, in order that others won’t be tempted to copy their ways.

So it will be with Jesus. This, too, will fulfill prophecy.

All of that is to come. For now, Jesus is still an infant, cared for and loved by Mary and Joseph. He was born in a stable, visited by the Magi, presented with their lavish gifts, and is now on the run from Herod and the Roman Empire.
¹⁰

CHAPTER TWO

ROME
MARCH 15, 44 B.C.
11 A.M.

The dictator with one hour to live rides atop the shoulders of slaves. Julius Caesar sits comfortably inside his litter, dressed in his usual dapper fashion: a loose belt, a purple wool toga over a white silk tunic, and a wreath of oak leaves atop his head that attests to his heroism while also hiding the bald spot he so despises. Lately Caesar has developed a passion for wearing high red boots, but on this morning his feet are clad in sandals.

He is barely contemplating his upcoming meeting with the Roman Senate, for which he is already late. The thoughts most on his mind are rumors of a death—his own. But of course Caesar has no idea that the whispered gossip of his impending demise will prove all too true this time.

Julius Caesar is the most powerful man in the world, so mighty that he has not only changed the number of days per year but will soon have the month of his birth and the entire calendar renamed after himself. Today is the equivalent of Wednesday in the seven-day Jewish week. But the Romans use the eight-day cycle and give their days a letter rather than a name, so today is simply “G.” They also believe in giving each sunrise a number, so now it is the fifteenth day of Martius in the year 44
B.C.
on Caesar’s brand-new Julian calendar.

Or, as it is also known, the Ides of March. And as the great Roman orator and lawyer Cicero will soon write, “The Ides changed everything.”

The fifty-five-year-old Divus Julius—“Julius the God,” as the Roman Senate will later proclaim him—is being carried through Rome. The day is warm but not hot, and the people stand back in awe as Caesar passes by. He is a man of average height but extraordinary determination, having successfully conquered, invaded, or allied Rome with what will later be called Spain, Britain, France, Egypt, and Italy. Caesar is a study of conflict in his personal life, eating little and drinking even less, even as he spends money with abandon—such as when he commissioned the construction of a new villa, only to tear it down as soon as it was completed because he felt it wasn’t perfect. And while many Roman men are wary of their sex drives, believing that too much sex will drain the virility from their bodies, Caesar has no such compunction. Calpurnia is his third wife, but he has had many mistresses, including the ambitious Cleopatra of Egypt.

Julius Caesar

Now, reclined in his litter, the well-muscled warrior statesman contemplates the subject of murder—his own. Friends, soothsayers, and even his beloved Calpurnia—whom he first bedded when he was forty and she was a sixteen-year-old virgin—have warned him that something terrible will happen today. It was Calpurnia who made Caesar late this morning. Last night she dreamed in most vivid fashion that he would be assassinated, and she begged him not to go to the Senate. Under normal circumstances, Caesar would have ignored her forebodings, but in the past few days informants have urgently warned him about a conspiracy to kill him. Given the choice of heeding those warnings or ignoring them, Caesar has chosen to brush them off—and even make light of them.

“What is the sweetest way to die?” asked Lepidus, Caesar’s second in command, two nights earlier over dinner.

“The kind that comes without warning,” the dictator shot back.

Caesar indulged Calpurnia’s fears for much of this morning. He even sent word that the Senate be dismissed. But then Decimus Brutus, the great general who had crushed the Venetian fleet during the Gallic Wars, arrived at Caesar’s home and pleaded with him to ignore Calpurnia’s nightmares. He reminded Caesar of his impending journey to Parthia, the land west of Judea where Rome’s legions had suffered one of their most bruising defeats at the Battle of Carrhae nearly ten years earlier. Caesar’s aim is to subjugate the Parthians—who hail from the mountainous deserts of the modern-day Middle East—and continue the expansion of Rome’s global empire.

The scheduled departure is March 18, just three days away. Caesar could be gone for months, perhaps a year. So it’s urgent that he meet with the Senate and clear up any unfinished business. Brutus also hints that there might be a nice surprise awaiting Caesar. A month ago the nine hundred members of the Senate named Caesar dictator for life. Now Brutus is intimating that they might also name Caesar king this morning, meaning that he will become the first monarch Rome has known in almost five hundred years.

The citizens of Rome have enjoyed a republic ever since Lucius Tarquinius Superbus was overthrown in 509
B.C.
, and they are so averse to the idea of an absolute ruler that the Latin word for “king,”
rex
, is considered repugnant. But as Caesar draws closer and closer to his meeting with the Senate, he is sure that the people feel differently about him. He has long been devoted to keeping the masses happy. One way to do this is by ensuring that popular entertainment is available to one and all, distracting them from any issues they might have about their government. Right now, for instance, as Caesar’s path to the Senate takes him from his home on the Via Sacra and out beyond the
pomerium
, Rome’s sacred boundary, he can hear the roar of the crowds in the Theater of Pompey’s grand arena as they gather to watch a blood-soaked gladiatorial battle.

The Theater of Pompey was built by, and named after, Caesar’s greatest rival. The eleven-year-old columned structure is made of stone and concrete, unlike the wooden theaters that have long been a staple of Roman life. It is an enormous and complex work of architecture—so monumental, in fact, that in the entire seven-hundred-year history of Rome, there has never been a larger or more elaborate entertainment venue. One half is comprised of the
D
-shaped amphitheater where popular entertainments such as plays and gladiatorial competitions take place. Mock battles with elephants have been staged there, as well as very real combat between lions and men.

The garden area features lavish flower beds and arcades decorated with fountains and statuary and is partially covered to allow people escape from the rain or sun. Still another portion of this “theater” is the cool and quiet marble-floored great hall, where the Roman Senate meets. Caesar could have changed the facility’s title after Pompey’s execution, but demeaning his rival’s memory would have served no useful political purpose. So it is that Pompey’s name still adorns this magnificent structure and that a giant marble statue of the fallen general watches over the portico of the great hall, as if listening in on everything the Senate has to say.

The people of Rome joyfully mob Caesar’s litter as the slaves carry him toward the Campus Martius, an open plain along the Tiber River where Roman legions assemble before marching off to war. Once, to ensure his popularity with those armies, Caesar gave each soldier his own personal slave, taken from the ranks of the Gauls they had just defeated in battle. The legionaries have never forgotten that gift and continue to reciprocate by showing Caesar their unconditional support. So, unlike many rulers, Caesar is quite sure of his personal safety. He has even reassigned the two thousand soldiers who once served as his personal guards and is unafraid to walk freely through the streets of Rome, so that one and all can see that he is not a tyrant. “I would rather die,” Caesar has noted, “than be feared.”

As the journey comes to an end at Pompey’s theater, Caesar spies a familiar face in the crowd. “The day which you warned me against is here,” Caesar calls out to Spurinna, the fortune-teller who was bold enough to predict that a terrible fate would befall the empire’s leader on this very day. Spurinna divined this knowledge by studying the raw livers of sacrificed sheep and chickens. The goddess Venus Genetrix is Caesar’s personal deity, and he has dedicated a large temple in her honor, but on this morning Caesar has little use for religion or superstition. He wears a confident smile on his face—but it is one that quickly vanishes when Spurinna offers his reply.

“Yes,” the Etruscan haruspex shouts over the clamor of the loyal people of Rome, who now press in around Caesar’s litter. Spurinna is quite sure of his prediction and not at all fearful of being reprimanded for what he is about to say. “It is here, but it is not yet gone.”

Caesar hears those words but does not respond. Gathering his purple toga to his body with his left arm, he steps from his litter, hoping to soon become king of Rome.

*   *   *

But there will be no coronation. Instead, a team of assassins waits for Caesar inside the Senate. These killers are not soldiers or angry citizens but self-styled “Liberators” comprised of dozens of Caesar’s closest friends and trusted allies, men of regal bearing and upbringing whom he trusts completely and with whom he has shared many a meal and battlefield victory. These rogue senators are uneasy about Caesar’s ever-growing power and his desire to be king. Such a promotion would ensure not only Caesar’s authority for life but also that it be passed down through his will to the heir of his choice. That Caesar publicly refused a crown when his good friend Marc Antony recently tried to place one upon his head does not appease them. With these thoughts, along with nagging doubts that they might not have the guts to follow through on their assassination plan, the rebel senators have waited in their Senate seats all morning, freshly sharpened
pugiones
concealed beneath the thick folds of their togas.