Bulgakov's inserted story about Pilate...
is apocryphal, very
far from the Gospel. The main task
the writer was to portray a person
"washing his hands", which thereby
betrays himself.
A. Men 1

Pontius Pilate 2 is a real historical figure. Pontius Pilate was the procurator of Judea in 26-36. AD “Bulgakov’s Pontius Pilate is greatly ennobled in comparison with the prototype, so his bribery and desire for profit are hidden in the subtext. It is known that it was precisely because of the exorbitant exactions from the population that Pilate was eventually removed from his post” 3 .

According to medieval German legend, the procurator was the son of the astrologer king Ata and the daughter of the miller Pila, who lived in Rhineland Germany. One day At, while on his way, learned from the stars that the child he conceived would immediately become powerful and famous. The miller's daughter Pila was brought to the king. Pilate received his name from the addition of their names. The procurator apparently received the nickname Golden Spear for his keen eye and love of gold.

The posthumous fate of Pilate is connected with another legend. In the article “Pilate” in the Brockhaus and Efron encyclopedia, the fate of the fifth procurator of Judea was associated with the name of the mountain of the same name in the Swiss Alps, where “he allegedly still appears on Good Friday and washes his hands, trying in vain to cleanse himself of complicity in a terrible crime.”

The story of Pilate goes back to the Gospel story (see Gospel of Matthew, chapter 27:19) about Pilate’s warning from his wife, who advises her husband not to harm the righteous man she saw in a dream, otherwise he, Pilate, will have to suffer for his careless actions. It is symbolic that the procurator’s illness, hemicrania (migraine), was aggravated by rose oil - rose oil: the red rose is a symbol of the agony of the cross and the subsequent resurrection of Christ 4 .

The motive for Pilate's hesitation, fear, and direct threat to him from the Jews - residents of the city of Yershalaim hated by the procurator - is also contained in some Gospels - in the Gospel of John (see Chapter 19):

“6. When the high priests and ministers saw Him, they shouted: Crucify Him, crucify Him! Pilate said to them: Take Him and crucify Him, for I find no guilt in Him.

7. The Jews answered him: We have a law, and according to our law He must die, because He made Himself the Son of God.

8. Pilate, having heard this word, was more afraid...

12. From now on Pilate sought to release Him. The Jews shouted: if you let Him go, you are no friend of Caesar; everyone who makes himself a king is an opponent of Caesar...

15. But they shouted: Take, take, crucify Him! Pilate says to them: Shall I crucify your king? The high priests answered: We have no king except Caesar.

16. Then finally he handed Him over to them to be crucified[emphasis added. - VC.]".

M. Bulgakov in his novel unfolds, in fact, the deep gospel plot of doubt, fear and, in the end, betrayal of Jesus by Pilate. Already in the Gospel of John we are talking specifically about betrayal, since Pontius “found no guilt in Him [Jesus]” and “sought to let him go.”

Pontius Pilate as portrayed by M. Bulgakov is a complex, dramatic character. Yeshua preaches in the novel: “All power is violence over people... the time will come when there will be no power of Caesar or any other power. Man will move into the kingdom of truth and justice, where no power will be needed at all.”. Because of fear of denunciation, fear of ruining his career, Pilate confirms the sentence, and Yeshua is executed. He commits evil under the pressure of circumstances that he could not resist, and then throughout his life and beyond - for “twelve thousand moons” - he repents of it. The colors of Pilate’s clothes (see chapter two) are symbolic: he came out "into the covered colonnade between the two wings of the palace of Herod the Great" "in a white cloak with bloody lining". The very combination of white (the color of purity and innocence) and blood red is already perceived as a tragic omen.

But Procurator 5 is trying to at least partially atone for his guilt before the innocent wandering philosopher. By order of Pontius Pilate, Yeshua's suffering was shortened: he was pierced with a spear. Following the secret order of the procurator, Judas is killed.

At the request of the Master and Margarita, Pontius Pilate in the last chapter of the novel receives liberation and forgiveness, and together with Yeshua, talking, he leaves along the lunar road. The idea of ​​forgiveness and mercy associated with the image of Pilate is one of the central ones in the novel “The Master and Margarita”, and it ends the last, 32nd chapter of the novel: "This hero has gone into the abyss, gone forever, forgiven on Sunday night son of the astrologer king, cruel fifth procurator of Judea, horseman Pontius Pilate [emphasis mine. - VC.]".

Read also other articles on the work of M.A. Bulgakov and the analysis of the novel "The Master and Margarita":

Sections: Literature

(Slide No. 2)

Target: Observe the details of a literary text, while simultaneously analyzing your own feelings that arose as a response to the events happening to the characters.

(Slide No. 3)

Tasks:

• Explain the reasons for Pontius Pilate’s actions through observation of his emotional experiences; notice all the subtleties in his behavior, speech, intonation, explain the inconsistency of his feelings.
• Analyze your own feelings that appear when reading the text.
• Compile a psychological dictionary of your feelings.

Equipment: Microsoft Power Point presentation (Appendix 1), two sheets of Whatman paper, markers

During the classes

Teacher's opening speech.

So, today we begin to analyze chapter 2 of the novel by M.A. Bulgakov’s “The Master and Margarita”, which is based on the eternal problems of human existence: Good and Evil, Faith and Unbelief, Betrayal and Love, Power and Freedom, the problem of repentance and fair retribution.

A whole panorama of human morals unfolds before us, revealing questions as old as the world and eternal as life itself. What is a person? Is he responsible for his affairs? Can even the most severe circumstances justify an immoral act? You know that part of Bulgakov’s novel “The Master and Margarita”, its individual chapters, is the novel of his hero, the Master, which is set in almost two thousand years of history, but has a direct connection with the events taking place in Moscow in the 1930s. The plot of this novel is reminiscent of the biblical tale of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ and gives the impression of a documentary-accurate presentation of the events that actually took place, since its heroes are almost historical figures. However, there is something that distinguishes the Master's novel.

The Gospel of Matthew says that, having gathered 12 disciples for the Last Supper on the eve of Easter, Jesus Christ predicted his death from the betrayal of one of them...

(Slide No. 4)

Student's message about the biblical story of the crucifixion of Christ ( tells the legend of the crucifixion of Christ, supplementing the story with the following quotes from the Bible):

“Truly I say to you, one of you will betray me.

The disciples were saddened by this, and they began to ask one after another:

- Isn’t it me, Lord?

Then Judas, who had previously betrayed Him, also asked:

- Of course not me, Teacher?

Jesus answered:

- Yes, you...

(Gospel of Matthew, chapter 26 (20–22, 25, 46–52,) chapter 27 (1–5)

Teacher: There is no doubt that Yeshua Ha-Nozri is a kind of double of Jesus Christ. Moreover, Yeshua in Aramaic means Lord (salvation), and Ha-Nozri is from Nazareth. Jesus Christ, born in Bethlehem, lived permanently in Nazareth before he began his career, which is why he is often called Jesus the Nazarene. What, in your opinion, is the peculiarity of the interpretation of the Gospel story?

(The writer significantly deepened the biblical plot, conveyed a whole range of feelings and experiences of the heroes, he “humanized” them, which evokes empathy and compassion for them in the readers. He puts them before a moral choice, and it seems that Bulgakov addresses everyone: “Could Are you as courageous and resigned as Yeshua, to accept suffering in the name of your idea, maintaining to the end faith in the good beginning in man, without allowing one iota of feelings of bitterness and resentment for your fate?”)

In the second lesson of studying M.A. Bulgakov’s novel “The Master and Margarita” you received the task: re-read chapter 2 of “Pontius Pilate” and answer the questions:

1. Can we, sincerely sympathizing with Yeshua, understanding the injustice of his punishment, categorically condemn Pilate for his cruelty? What is Pilate's true guilt?
2. Why did the circumstances turn out to be higher than the desire of the procurator to save the preacher? Why was Yeshua above these circumstances?
3. Did Pilate have the opportunity to choose, why did he still choose evil?

These questions can be answered by skimming through the content, but M.A. is describing it for some reason. Bulgakov's experiences of Pilate? Perhaps everything is not as simple as it seems?

Individual homework (message from 2 students with presentation of their slide)

1 student completed the task: to track how Pontius Pilate’s mood changes. Make a dictionary of your feelings that arose while reading chapter 2.

2, the student analyzes the behavior of Yeshua Ha-Nozri and compiles a dictionary of his own feelings.

(Slide No. 5)

Speech by 1 student:

As soon as Bulgakov introduces us to the palace of Herod the Great and introduces us to Pontius Pilate, an atmosphere of some kind of anxiety immediately catches our eye. Pilate's painful condition confirms this (“an attack of hemicrania began again, when half of his head hurts”).

So, meeting the procurator for the first time, we see him irritated. It is felt that the inhabitants of the palace and those close to him were accustomed to the cruelty and harshness of his character. Talking to the prisoner brought to him, he interrupts him mid-sentence when Yeshua addressed him: “Good man...” Pilate declares that in Yershalaim everyone whispers about him: “a ferocious monster,” “and this is absolutely true.” In confirmation of his words Pilate summons the centurion, the formidable Mark the Rat-Slayer: “The criminal calls me “good man...” Explain to him how to talk to me. But don’t maim.”

(Some kind of terrible feeling of fear and bewilderment appears and the question: “Why?”)

But later, it seems, Pilate himself became interested in talking with this man. After all, “the easiest thing would be to expel this strange robber from the balcony by uttering only two words: “hang him.” However, the procurator does not do this. And when Yeshua explains to the procurator the reason for his suffering (“the truth, first of all, is that you have a headache... Not only are you unable to talk to me, but it’s difficult for you to even look at me...”), Pilate is simply overwhelmed.

The procurator calms down when Yeshua continues the conversation that “there are no evil people in the world,” and a formula formed in his head by itself: “the hegemon looked into the case of the wandering philosopher Yeshua, nicknamed Ha-Nozri, and did not find any corpus delicti in it. In particular, I did not find the slightest connection between the actions of Yeshua and the unrest that occurred in Yershalaim recently. The wandering philosopher turned out to be mentally ill. As a result of this, the death sentence ... the prosecutor does not approve ... "

(Here the reader involuntarily rejoices for the procurator and for Yeshua and is already waiting for a happy ending.) And suddenly it turns out that everything is wrong.

– Everything about him? – Pilate asked the secretary.

“No, unfortunately,” the secretary unexpectedly answered and handed Pilate another piece of parchment.

-What else is there? - Pilate asked and frowned.

(This is where I really want this second parchment not to be there; I’m getting scared that it will ruin everything.)

The procurator himself feels the same, who tries with all his being to prevent danger, even condescending to give signs to Yeshua. (Therefore, the feeling of excitement and anxiety increases), Moreover, Pilate has a terrible hallucination, which seems to foreshadow trouble: “So, it seemed to him that the prisoner’s head floated away somewhere, and another one appeared in its place. On this bald head sat a thin-toothed golden crown; on the forehead there was a round ulcer, corroding the skin and smeared with ointment, ... in the distance, as if trumpets were playing quietly and menacingly, and a nasal voice was very clearly heard, arrogantly drawing the words: “The law of lese majeste...” Yeshua’s story about what and how He spoke to Judas from Cariath, which gives rise to a mood of hopelessness in Pilate. He feels that he is losing his chances of saving the naive prisoner. (Feelings of anxiety increase)

(Slide No. 6)

Speech by 2 students:

The cruel, unfair punishment, it seems, did not even cause indignation in the arrested person. He simply, like a child, asks the centurion in response to his menacing tone: “I understand you. Do not hit me." (This arouses interest and respect in him)

(Slide No. 7)

In the future, the sincerity and ease of his conversation with Pilate is simply captivating.

(Slide No. 8)

For this reason, the directness of the answer struck Pilate with its insolence: “Don’t you think that you have hung her, hegemon? If so, you are very mistaken." (At this moment there is a fear that Yeshua may harm himself) Pilate “shuddered and answered through his teeth: “I can cut this hair.”

“Would you let me go, hegemon,” the prisoner suddenly asked, and his voice became alarmed, “I see that they want to kill me.”

(At the moment of the verdict, the reader has a strong feeling of disagreement with what is happening: the cruelty of the procurator and his powerlessness are so clearly shown.)

(Slide No. 9)

“Do you believe, unfortunate one, that the Roman procurator will release a man who said what you said? I don’t share your thoughts!”

It is interesting that Pilate does not calm down, but arranges a meeting with the president of Sendrion, Kaifa. A conversation with him was the last hope for the salvation of Yeshua, and Pilate made every effort to achieve this.

After this, he is overcome by melancholy, developing into a terrible anger of powerlessness. the procurator realizes his guilt and feels terrible pangs of conscience, and then feels almost furious towards him for trampling on his last hope. The procurator is overcome with open indignation:

“You will remember then the saved Var-Rawan and you will regret it.” But the high priest is adamant:

“...You wanted to release him so that he would confuse the people, outrage the faith and bring the people under the Roman swords! But I, the High Priest of the Jews, while I am alive, will not allow my faith to be mocked and will protect the people!”

(Reading this scene you feel such indignation because there was no force capable of preventing this absurd and monstrous injustice.)

Heading to the platform and pronouncing the words of sentence, Pilate does not even look in the direction of the criminals. “He didn't see anything. He didn't need it. He already knew that behind him the convoy was already leading to Bald Mountain Ha-Notsri, to whom the procurator himself pronounced a death sentence and whom he most wanted to see alive.”

(When you read these lines, a feeling of indignation and horror covers you. And also powerlessness. You can only watch what is happening.)

(Slide No. 10)

A dictionary reflecting feelings and experiences when reading a chapter

Pontius Pilate	Yeshua
Fear (incomprehensible cruelty)	Sympathy (keeps it simple)
Confusion (why they beat you)	Interest (sincere, like a child)
Curiosity (result of conversation)	Respect (resilience, fearlessness)
Excitement (premonition of trouble)	Fear (may harm oneself)
Anxiety (sentence)	Joy (expectation of a happy ending)
Despair (recorded testimony)	Fear (at least it doesn’t ruin everything)
Powerlessness (no one will help)	Anxiety (Yeshua's steadfastness)
Indignation (from injustice)	Disagreement (with the decision of the procurator)
Disgust (cowardice is the most vile trait)	Horror (death sentence)

Teacher: So, we see that the figure of Pontius Pilate is truly complex and contradictory. He wanted to save Yeshua, realizing the unfoundedness of the sentence passed by the Sanhedrin. But even the all-powerful procurator, a man whose one glance plunges one into numbness, turned out to be powerless to save Yeshua from death. Why did circumstances turn out to be higher than Pilate's wishes? Why was Yeshua above these circumstances? Did the procurator have a choice? And why did he still choose evil?

Group assignment(performed on computers or on Whatman paper)

Group1 Make a cluster of the character traits of Yeshua Ha-Nozri that appeared in Chapter 2 of the novel

Group 2 Make a cluster of Pontius Pilate’s character traits that appeared in Chapter 2 of the novel

Speech by representatives from groups defending their work.

(Slide No. 11)

Comparison: Students are presented with a color spectrum of the characters’ character traits, drawn up by the teacher. Teacher's explanation:

Yeshua is the ideal of individual freedom. His main feature is HUMANITY.

(Slide No. 12)

The main goal on earth is the peaceful preaching of the kingdom of truth and justice. And therefore no forces can force him to betray his faith in goodness. (Let us remember the episode when, before his death, he asks the executioner not for himself, but for another: “Give him a drink”). He does not betray his forever accepted conviction - his truth. He is internally surrounded by a halo of bright feelings: Love, Freedom, Goodness.

Pilate is always irritated, embittered, distrustful, and cruel. In addition, he has to live in a city that he hates, he governs a people that he does not like. His will cannot contradict the will of the higher authority of the clergy in the person of the Great Caesar, the high priests and the entire Sanhedrin. Therefore, Pilate turns out to be internally bound, dependent on his position.

He constantly experiences internal discord.

In Yeshua, Pilate felt what he himself lacked: understanding, sincerity, sensitivity, fortitude. In addition, this philosopher was able to guess not only his loneliness and suffering, but also relieved his physical pain and awakened long-forgotten feelings. He wants to help Yeshua.

The procurator faces a choice: either take a step towards saving Yeshua and thus accomplish Good; or destroy him and commit Evil.

Pilate understood perfectly well the injustice of Yeshua’s punishment and with all the strength of his soul wanted to choose Good

But on the other hand, the procurator is a powerful ruler. He cannot let go of a man who said what he said about power, and which is recorded not only in Judas’ report, but also in the protocol of the procurator’s secretary. Then your career and position will be ruined. He - slave of Caesar, his position and his career. Pilate chooses Evil, betraying his conscience.

He was free to decide the fates of others, but, it turns out, he cannot control his own actions and actions. And therefore Pilate is doomed to eternal mental torment, a guilt that for almost two thousand years he has not been able to atone for, since there is no greater vice than cowardice.

Conclusion: Yeshua leaves, and the procurator remains for thousands of years in the cell of his solitude, where he dreams of a lunar road along which he walks and talks with the prisoner Ha-Notsri, because, as he claims, he did not say something back then on the fourteenth day of the spring month of Nisan. And he waits and hopes that he will be forgiven and released.

Literary drawing completely coincides with historical drawing, even in small details and subtleties. And the name of Pilate - both as an evangelical figure and as a Bulgakov character - will always go hand in hand with the name of Yeshua Jesus, as punishment for inaction. Immortality through the ages is his curse.

With the image of Pilate, his fate, his mental anguish, Bulgakov convinces us that man is responsible for his deeds. As a living being, he can resist fulfilling his civic duty with all his might and find justification for himself - in the thirst for life, in habits, in the natural desire for peace, in fear of suffering or of superiors, of hunger, poverty, exile, death. But as a spiritual being with moral consciousness, he is always responsible to his conscience. Here he has no allies on whom he could shift at least part of his responsibility, and no external circumstances and conditions of choice can serve as his justification.

You come to such conclusions by analyzing the contradictory feelings experienced by Pontius Pilate. A wide variety of feelings are captured in his words, eyes, and voice: hopelessness, melancholy, rage, despair. And it turns out that Pilate is a suffering man, embittered by illness and misunderstanding, shackled by his power. But most importantly - lonely, smart, deeply feeling.

In life there is always a choice, even in the most seemingly hopeless situations a person must make some decision. And it depends only on him how he will live longer: in harmony or at odds with his conscience.

(Slides No. 13, 14)

Summing up the lesson: Why did Bulgakov need such an artistic device - parallel to the narrative of modernity, to also carry on the line of a novel written by the Master and telling about events that took place two thousand years ago? ( The novel is dedicated to eternal problems; they exist in the present just as they did thousands of years ago. It will take a long time for humanity to reach the truth and whether it will come to its knowledge is unknown).

Lesson grades.

Homework: Select material relating to a) the history of the Master, b) the general atmosphere of life in the 30s of the 20th century, using chapters 5, 6, 7, 9, 13, 27.

Literature:

1. “M.A. Bulgakov “The Master and Margarita” Moscow “Olympus” 1997
2. Russian literature of the 20th century, part 2" Edited by V.P. Zhuravleva Moscow “Enlightenment” 2006.
3. “Russian literature of the 20th century. Reader" Compiled by A.V. Barannikov, T.A. Kalganova Moscow “Enlightenment” 1993 p.332.
4. M.P. Zhigalov “Russian literature of the 20th century in high school” M. Bulgakov and his novel “The Master and Margarita” in scientific and methodological research pp. 10-9 Minsk 2003.
5. Magazine "Literature at School" No. 7 2002 pp. 11-20.
6. Internet resources were used to create the presentation.

1. Pilate in various literary sources.
2. The image of Pilate in Bulgakov’s novel.
3. Punishment and forgiveness of the procurator.

This hero went into the abyss, left irrevocably, the son of the astrologer king, forgiven on Sunday night, the cruel fifth procurator of Judea, the horseman Pontius Pilate.
M. A. Bulgakov

The Roman horseman, ruler of Judea Pontius Pilate, the hero of M. A. Bulgakov’s novel “The Master and Margarita” is a real historical figure, whose rule was cruel, accompanied by numerous executions without trial. According to the New Testament, Pontius Pilate sentenced Jesus Christ to death, and then ritually washed his hands, showing his innocence. This image appears in the novel in close connection with the image of Yeshua Ha-Nozri: “Now we will always be together... Once there is one, that means there is another! They will remember me, and now they will remember you too! Me, a foundling, the son of unknown parents, and you, the son of the astrologer king and the miller’s daughter, the beautiful Pila,” Yeshua says to Pilate in a dream.

Thus, for Bulgakov, Pilate, who is not given much time in the Gospel, is one of the main characters of the novel. He is preoccupied with the question of the reality of the events that took place; the biblical chapters in the novel turn out to be confirmation of the existence of Christ for Ivan Bezdomny.

In the process of creating the novel, the writer became acquainted with G. Petrovsky’s poem “Pilate”. The author of the poem also portrays Pilate as sympathetic to Jesus, rather than perceiving his actions as a threat to overthrow the government. The cowardly procurator could not fight for Jesus against the Sanhedrin - just as in Bulgakov’s novel, in Petrovsky’s poem this vice is recognized in Pilate.

The writer’s view of events, the “Gospel of Bulgakov” is not just a dispute between the heroes about the existence of Christ. The author raises eternal themes - the theme of cowardice, betrayal, relations between man and power, unjust trial.

By the will of the author, the image of Pilate is endowed with numerous small details that make it more vivid and understandable to the reader. Thanks to Bulgakov, the hero of his novel is seen as more humane than in the New Testament. He has weaknesses - he has doubts, hesitations, he, a cruel procurator, has great affection for his dog, he is worried not only about the fate of Yeshua, but also about the fate of his student Levi Matthew. In the end, Pilate has a conscience and it torments him. Pilate does not consider Yeshua guilty, because he sees: this man simply does not know how to lie, his soul is pure. He gives Yeshua to execution against his will, confirming the death sentence of the Sanhedrin, becoming an involuntary executioner.

The author emphasizes the smallest shades of the hero’s mood in the process of making a difficult decision, which is very difficult for him. He cannot sacrifice his career to save Yeshua, but there is still something human left in him. The figure of Pilate in the novel is ambiguous. First we see the horseman Golden Spear, a cruel procurator “in a white cloak with a bloody lining,” which symbolizes his bloody deeds. Then we see in him a person subject to weaknesses and illnesses, and later suffering. The reader sees how the procurator changes in his conversation with Yeshua. At first, only one thought occupies him - that the interrogation should end as soon as possible. At this moment, the arrested and doomed Yeshua takes pity on him and empathizes, accurately determining his condition: “The truth, first of all, is that you have a headache, and it hurts so much that you are cowardly thinking about death. Not only are you unable to speak to me, but it is difficult for you to even look at me. And now I am unwittingly your executioner, which saddens me. You can’t even think about anything and dream only that your dog, apparently the only creature to which you are attached, will come. But your torment will now end, your headache will go away.”

This execution becomes a turning point in the life of Pontius Pilate; it haunts him all his life, because he executed an innocent man whose crime did not deserve such punishment. To atone for his guilt, Pilate orders the death of Judas, but this does not bring Yeshua back, and the procurator suffers for twelve thousand moons...

Woland tells what is happening to Pilate: “He says the same thing, he says that even in the moonlight he has no peace, and that he has a bad position. This is what he always says when he is not sleeping, and when he sleeps, he sees the same thing - the lunar road and wants to go along it and talk with the prisoner Ga-Notsri, because, as he claims, he did not say something back then, a long time ago , the fourteenth of the spring month of Nisan. But, alas, for some reason he fails to take this road and no one comes to him. Then, what can you do, he has to talk to himself. However, some variety is needed, and to his speech about the moon he often adds that most of all in the world he hates his immortality and unheard-of glory.” An attempt to justify oneself by one’s “bad position,” the same as that of the centurion Mark the Rat-Slayer, cannot drown out the voice of conscience. Even washing his hands does not allow him to remove this grave sin from his conscience. Immortality is the heaviest punishment Pilate receives. Yeshua comes to him in visions until Pilate, freed by the master, joins Ha-Nozri on the lunar path, not only in vision, but in reality. Then Pilate finds peace, assured by Yeshua that there was no execution. The ending brings Pilate forgiveness.

Bulgakov neglects many gospel facts for the sake of revealing the image of Pilate. Unlike Yeshua, the author condemns his hero. It is important for him to draw a parallel between that time and Moscow in the 20s, to prove that people have remained the same, and cowardice always remains the most serious vice.

One of the main characters of Bulgakov’s novel “The Master and Margarita” is the fifth procurator of Judea, the horseman Pontius Pilate.

First of all, I will note the extraordinary not only physical, but also mental strength of nature. It seems that only thanks to her, the “fruit of forbidden love” - the illegitimate son of the “stargazer king and the miller’s daughter, the beautiful Jigsaw” - was able to achieve his position.

In the past, he is an experienced and courageous warrior. His voice was torn by the commands not only in the dry dust of the cities, but also in the terrible mess of battles with the wild and warlike Germans, constantly besieging the northern borders of the Empire.

There is no doubt: not only the commander of the first century, the nasal freak Mark, aptly nicknamed the Rat Slayer (who almost lost his life in the Valley of the Virgins), but dozens, if not hundreds of Pilate’s comrades - the warriors of all the centuries subordinate to him - owe their very lives to this to the man - the horseman of the Golden Spear, who did not betray any of them.

Equally Pilate and a powerful figure. With an iron hand he decides the destinies of the regions entrusted to him. Natural intelligence, strong will and worldly experience allow the procurator to easily get out of the most difficult situations. He is able to predict the course of current events for a long time, he is used to being the master of the situation, and on occasion he is not afraid to take responsibility.

True, Pilate is quick-tempered, and those around him are not always able to predict in what bizarre forms his anger will pour out. In moments of battle, anger gives strength, saving lives; in the deceptive silence of palaces can cloud the mind and become a threat not only to well-being or career, but even to life itself.

However, if necessary, the formidable ruler of Yershalaim knows how to control himself perfectly - he will play the role that suits the occasion, like a natural actor. Let us at least remember the end of the dialogue with the gloomy high priest Caiaphas - the one that took place “on the fourteenth day of the spring month of Nisan” “on the upper terrace of the garden near two marble white lions guarding the stairs,” the one in which the fate of the beggar philosopher Yeshua was finally decided:

“The procurator knew well that this was exactly how the high priest would answer him, but his task was to show that such an answer caused him amazement. Pilate did this with great skill. The eyebrows rose on his arrogant face, and the procurator looked the high priest straight in the eyes with surprise.

“I admit, this answer struck me,” the procurator spoke softly, “I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding here...

Yes, Pilate is able to suppress the anger that engulfs him - the one that carries away, “suffocating and burning”, “the most terrible anger is the anger of impotence”: “What are you, high priest! - he mints the words to Kaifa. - Who can hear us here now? Do I look like the young wandering holy fool who is being executed today? Am I a boy, Caiaphas? I know what I'm saying and where I'm saying it. The garden is cordoned off, the palace is cordoned off, so that a mouse cannot get through any crevice! Not just a mouse, even this one won’t get in. What’s his name… from the city of Kiriath.”

The procurator of Judea does not know the name of the native of Kiriath, or simply does not want to stain his lips with his name? He, apparently, generally despises people. But what's so surprising? After all, he has long been familiar with all their habits and rules.

Pilate saw with his own eyes how, on occasion, they all rush at one person, like “dogs at a bear.” Don't expect any mercy here. The hegemon is also aware of their strange curiosity - for example, in questions about “state power”, and how they rush to light lamps in order to better see the speaker’s face. And this passion for money?

The stronger, the more piercing the surprise will be when he encounters another reality - with the truth of the “wandering holy fool” from the city of Gamala: “... so, Mark the Ratboy, a cold and convinced executioner, people who, as I see... you were beaten for your sermons , the robbers Dismas and Gestas, who killed four soldiers with their associates, and, finally, the dirty traitor Judas - are they all good people?
“Yes,” answered the prisoner.
- And will the kingdom of truth come?
“It will come, hegemon,” Yeshua answered with conviction.
- It will never come! - Pilate suddenly shouted in such a terrible voice that
Yeshua recoiled."

The more painful the pangs of conscience will be later, the deeper and more significant the insight. The insight of a man who believed that for him there was and could not be anything new on this mortal and endlessly sad earth.

“But have mercy on me, philosopher! - Pilate prays in his dreams (wouldn’t it be more correct to call them nightmares?), which have been overwhelming him since the homeless tramp Yeshua stood in his way. Do you, with your intelligence, admit the idea that because of a man who committed a crime against Caesar, the procurator of Judea will ruin his career?

And every time there follows a soul-opening confession: “Of course, it will destroy. In the morning I would have destroyed it even more, but now, at night, having weighed everything, I agree to destroy it. He will do anything to save a completely innocent, insane dreamer and doctor from execution!”

Bulgakov could have learned about this in his youth - while studying at the medical faculty of the University of St. Vladimir. However, something else is more important now: the undoubted trait of the people of such an organization - along with painful pride, suspicion or, say, disgust - is exceptional, downright phenomenal honesty. This is what makes Pilate’s experiences especially painful: what prevented him from saving poor Yeshua from death? Really, what?

"The Master and Margarita Chapter 02. Pontius Pilate"

In a white cloak with a bloody lining and a shuffling cavalry gait, early in the morning of the fourteenth day of the spring month of Nisan, the procurator of Judea, Pontius Pilate, came out into the covered colonnade between the two wings of the palace of Herod the Great.

More than anything else, the procurator hated the smell of rose oil, and everything now foreshadowed a bad day, since this smell began to haunt the procurator from dawn. It seemed to the procurator that the cypresses and palm trees in the garden emitted a pink smell, that a cursed pink stream was mixed with the smell of leather and the convoy. From the wings in the rear of the palace, where the first cohort of the twelfth lightning legion, which had arrived with the procurator in Yershalaim, was stationed, smoke drifted into the colonnade through the upper platform of the garden, and the same greasy smoke was mixed with the bitter smoke, which indicated that the cooks in the centuries had begun to prepare dinner. pink spirit. Oh gods, gods, why are you punishing me?

“Yes, there is no doubt! It’s her, she again, the invincible, terrible disease of hemicrania, in which half of the head hurts. There is no remedy for it, there is no salvation. I’ll try not to move my head.”

A chair had already been prepared on the mosaic floor by the fountain, and the procurator, without looking at anyone, sat down in it and extended his hand to the side.

The secretary respectfully placed a piece of parchment into this hand. Unable to resist a painful grimace, the procurator glanced sideways at what was written, returned the parchment to the secretary and said with difficulty:

A suspect from Galilee? Did they send the matter to the tetrarch?

Yes, procurator,” the secretary answered.

What is he?

He refused to give an opinion on the case and sent the death sentence to the Sanhedrin for your approval,” the secretary explained.

The procurator twitched his cheek and said quietly:

Bring the accused.

And immediately, from the garden platform under the columns to the balcony, two legionnaires brought in a man of about twenty-seven and placed him in front of the procurator’s chair. This man was dressed in an old and torn blue chiton. His head was covered with a white bandage with a strap around his forehead, and his hands were tied behind his back. The man had a large bruise under his left eye and an abrasion with dried blood in the corner of his mouth. The man brought in looked at the procurator with anxious curiosity.

He paused, then quietly asked in Aramaic:

So it was you who persuaded the people to destroy the Yershalaim Temple?

At the same time, the procurator sat as if made of stone, and only his lips moved slightly when pronouncing the words. The procurator was like a stone, because he was afraid to shake his head, blazing with hellish pain.

The man with his hands tied leaned forward a little and began to speak:

A kind person! Trust me...

But the procurator, still not moving and not raising his voice at all, immediately interrupted him:

Are you calling me a good person? You're wrong. In Yershalaim, everyone whispers about me that I am a ferocious monster, and this is absolutely true,” and he added just as monotonously: “Centurion Rat-Slayer to me.”

It seemed to everyone that it had darkened on the balcony when the centurion, commander of the special centurion, Mark, nicknamed the Rat Slayer, appeared before the procurator.

Rat Slayer was a head taller than the tallest soldier in the legion and so broad in the shoulders that he completely blocked out the still low sun.

The procurator addressed the centurion in Latin:

The criminal calls me "a good man." Take him out of here for a minute, explain to him how to talk to me. But don't maim.

And everyone, except the motionless procurator, followed Mark the Ratboy, who waved his hand to the arrested man, indicating that he should follow him.

In general, everyone followed the rat-slayer with their eyes, wherever he appeared, because of his height, and those who saw him for the first time, because of the fact that the centurion’s face was disfigured: his nose had once been broken by a blow from a German club.

Mark's heavy boots tapped on the mosaic, the bound man followed him silently, complete silence fell in the colonnade, and one could hear pigeons cooing in the garden area near the balcony, and the water sang an intricate, pleasant song in the fountain.

The procurator wanted to get up, put his temple under the stream and freeze like that. But he knew that this would not help him either.

Taking the arrested man out from under the columns into the garden. The Ratcatcher took a whip from the hands of the legionnaire standing at the foot of the bronze statue and, swinging slightly, hit the arrested man on the shoulders. The centurion's movement was careless and easy, but the bound one instantly fell to the ground, as if his legs had been cut off, choked on air, the color ran away from his face and his eyes became meaningless. Mark, with one left hand, easily, like an empty sack, lifted the fallen man into the air, put him on his feet and spoke nasally, poorly pronouncing Aramaic words:

To call a Roman procurator hegemon. No other words to say. Stand still. Do you understand me or should I hit you?

The arrested man staggered, but controlled himself, the color returned, he took a breath and answered hoarsely:

I understood you. Do not hit me.

A minute later he again stood in front of the procurator.

My? - the arrested person hastily responded, expressing with all his being his readiness to answer sensibly and not cause further anger.

The procurator said quietly:

Mine - I know. Don't pretend to be more stupid than you are. Your.

Yeshua,” the prisoner hastily answered.

Do you have a nickname?

Ga-Nozri.

Where you're from?

From the city of Gamala,” the prisoner answered, indicating with his head that there, somewhere far away, to the right of him, in the north, there was the city of Gamala.

Who are you by blood?

“I don’t know for sure,” the arrested man answered briskly, “I don’t remember my parents.” They told me that my father was Syrian...

Where do you live permanently?

“I don’t have a permanent home,” the prisoner answered shyly, “I travel from city to city.”

This can be expressed briefly, in one word - a tramp,” said the procurator and asked: “Do you have any relatives?”

There is no one. I'm alone in the world.

Do you know how to read and write?

Do you know any language other than Aramaic?

I know. Greek.

The swollen eyelid lifted, the eye, covered with a haze of suffering, stared at the arrested man. The other eye remained closed.

Pilate spoke in Greek:

So you were going to destroy the temple building and called the people to do it?

Here the prisoner perked up again, his eyes stopped expressing fear, and he spoke in Greek:

I, dear... - here horror flashed in the eyes of the prisoner because he almost misspoke, - I, the hegemon, never in my life intended to destroy the temple building and did not persuade anyone to do this senseless action.

Surprise was expressed on the face of the secretary, hunched over the low table and recording the testimony. He raised his head, but immediately bowed it again to the parchment.

Many different people flock to this city for the holiday. There are magicians, astrologers, soothsayers and murderers among them,” the procurator said monotonously, “and there are also liars.” For example, you are a liar. It is clearly written down: he persuaded to destroy the temple. This is what people testify.

These good people,” the prisoner spoke and hastily added: “hegemon,” continued: “they didn’t learn anything and they all confused what I said.” In general, I am beginning to fear that this confusion will continue for a very long time. And all because he writes me down incorrectly.

There was silence. Now both sick eyes looked heavily at the prisoner.

“I repeat to you, but for the last time: stop pretending to be crazy, robber,” Pilate said softly and monotonously, “there is not much recorded against you, but what is written down is enough to hang you.”

“No, no, the hegemon,” the arrested man spoke, straining himself in the desire to convince, “he walks and walks alone with a goat’s parchment and writes continuously. But one day I looked into this parchment and was horrified. I said absolutely nothing of what was written there. I begged him: burn your parchment for God’s sake! But he snatched it from my hands and ran away.

Who it? - Pilate asked disgustedly and touched his temple with his hand.

Levi Matthew,” the prisoner readily explained, “he was a tax collector, and I met him for the first time on the road in Bethphage, where the fig garden overlooks the corner, and I got into conversation with him. Initially, he treated me with hostility and even insulted me, that is, he thought that he was insulting me by calling me a dog,” here the prisoner grinned, “I personally don’t see anything bad in this beast to be offended by this word...

The secretary stopped taking notes and secretly cast a surprised glance, not at the arrested person, but at the procurator.

However, after listening to me, he began to soften, - Yeshua continued, - finally threw money on the road and said that he would travel with me...

Pilate grinned with one cheek, baring his yellow teeth, and said, turning his whole body to the secretary:

Oh, the city of Yershalaim! There's just so much you can't hear in it. The tax collector, you hear, threw money on the road!

Not knowing how to respond to this, the secretary considered it necessary to repeat Pilate’s smile.

Still grinning, the procurator looked at the arrested man, then at the sun, steadily rising above the equestrian statues of the hippodrome, which lay far below to the right, and suddenly, in some kind of sickening torment, he thought that the easiest thing would be to expel this strange robber from the balcony, saying only two words: “Hang him.” Drive out the convoy too, leave the colonnade inside the palace, order the room to be darkened, lie down on the bed, demand cold water, call the dog Bang in a plaintive voice, and complain to her about hemicrania. And the thought of poison suddenly flashed seductively in the procurator’s sick head.

He looked with dull eyes at the prisoner and was silent for some time, painfully remembering why in the morning merciless Yershalaim sun a prisoner with a face disfigured by beatings was standing in front of him, and what unnecessary questions he would have to ask.

Yes, Levi Matvey,” a high, tormenting voice came to him.

But what did you say about the temple to the crowd at the market?

I, the hegemon, said that the temple of the old faith would collapse and a new temple of truth would be created. I said it this way to make it clearer.

Why did you, tramp, confuse people at the market by talking about the truth, about which you have no idea? What is truth?

And then the procurator thought: “Oh, my gods! I’m asking him about something unnecessary at the trial... My mind no longer serves me...” And again he imagined a bowl with a dark liquid. "I'll poison you, I'll poison you!"

The truth, first of all, is that you have a headache, and it hurts so much that you are cowardly thinking about death. Not only are you unable to speak to me, but it is difficult for you to even look at me. And now I am unwittingly your executioner, which saddens me. You can’t even think about anything and dream only that your dog, apparently the only creature to which you are attached, will come. But your torment will now end, your headache will go away.

The secretary stared at the prisoner and did not finish the words.

Pilate raised his martyred eyes to the prisoner and saw that the sun was already standing quite high above the hippodrome, that the ray had made its way into the colonnade and was creeping towards Yeshua’s worn sandals, that he was avoiding the sun.

Here the procurator rose from his chair, clasped his head in his hands, and horror was expressed on his yellowish, shaved face. But he immediately suppressed it with his will and sank back into the chair.

Meanwhile, the prisoner continued his speech, but the secretary did not write down anything else, but only, stretching his neck like a goose, tried not to utter a single word.

Well, it’s all over,” said the arrested man, looking benevolently at Pilate, “and I’m extremely happy about it.” I would advise you, hegemon, to leave the palace for a while and take a walk somewhere in the surrounding area, or at least in the gardens on the Mount of Olives. The thunderstorm will begin,” the prisoner turned and squinted into the sun, “later, in the evening.” A walk would be of great benefit to you, and I would be happy to accompany you. Some new thoughts have come to my mind that might, I think, seem interesting to you, and I would be happy to share them with you, especially since you seem to be a very smart person.

The secretary turned deathly pale and dropped the scroll to the floor.

The trouble is,” continued the bound man, unstoppable by anyone, “that you are too closed and have completely lost faith in people. You can’t, you see, put all your affection into a dog. Your life is meager, hegemon,” and here the speaker allowed himself to smile.

The secretary was now thinking about only one thing: whether to believe his ears or not. I had to believe. Then he tried to imagine exactly what bizarre form the anger of the hot-tempered procurator would take at this unheard-of insolence of the arrested person. And the secretary could not imagine this, although he knew the procurator well.

Untie his hands.

One of the escort legionnaires struck his spear, handed it to another, walked up and removed the ropes from the prisoner. The secretary picked up the scroll and decided not to write anything down and not be surprised by anything for now.

“Confess,” Pilate asked quietly in Greek, “are you a great doctor?”

No, procurator, I’m not a doctor,” answered the prisoner, rubbing his crumpled and swollen purple hand with pleasure.

Cool, from under his brows Pilate gazed at the prisoner, and in these eyes there was no longer any dullness, familiar sparks appeared in them.

“I didn’t ask you,” said Pilate, “perhaps you know Latin?”

Yes, I know,” answered the prisoner.

Color appeared on Pilate's yellowish cheeks, and he asked in Latin:

How did you know that I wanted to call the dog?

“It’s very simple,” the prisoner answered in Latin, “you moved your hand through the air,” the prisoner repeated Pilate’s gesture, “as if you wanted to stroke it, and your lips...

Yes, said Pilate.

There was silence, then Pilate asked a question in Greek:

So, are you a doctor?

No, no,” the prisoner answered briskly, “believe me, I’m not a doctor.”

OK then. If you want to keep it a secret, keep it. This is not directly related to the matter. So you're saying that you didn't call for the temple to be destroyed... or set on fire, or in any other way destroyed?

I, the hegemon, did not call anyone to such actions, I repeat. Do I look like a retard?

“Oh yes, you don’t look like a weak-minded person,” the procurator answered quietly and smiled with some kind of terrible smile, “so swear that this didn’t happen.”

What do you want me to swear to? - asked, very animated, untied.

Well, at least with your life,” answered the procurator, “it’s time to swear by it, since it hangs by a thread, know this!”

Don't you think you've hung her up, hegemon? - asked the prisoner, - if this is so, you are very mistaken.

Pilate shuddered and answered through clenched teeth:

I can cut this hair.

And in this you are mistaken,” the prisoner objected, smiling brightly and shielding himself from the sun with his hand, “Do you agree that only the one who hung it can probably cut the hair?”

“So, so,” Pilate said, smiling, “now I have no doubt that the idle onlookers in Yershalaim followed on your heels.” I don’t know who hung your tongue, but it hung well. By the way, tell me: is it true that you appeared in Yershalaim through the Susa Gate riding on a donkey, accompanied by a crowd of rabble who shouted greetings to you as if to some prophet? - here the procurator pointed to a scroll of parchment.

The prisoner looked at the procurator in bewilderment.

“I don’t even have a donkey, hegemon,” he said. “I came to Yershalaim exactly through the Susa Gate, but on foot, accompanied by Levi Matvey alone, and no one shouted anything to me, since no one knew me in Yershalaim then.

“Don’t you know such people,” Pilate continued, without taking his eyes off the prisoner, “a certain Dismas, another Gestas and a third Bar-Rabban?”

“I don’t know these good people,” the prisoner answered.

Now tell me, why are you always using the words “good people”? Is that what you call everyone?

“All,” the prisoner answered, “there are no evil people in the world.”

This is the first time I’ve heard about this,” Pilate said, grinning, “but maybe I don’t know life much!” You don’t have to write down any further,” he turned to the secretary, although he didn’t write anything down anyway, and continued to say to the prisoner: “Did you read about this in any of the Greek books?”

No, I came to this with my own mind.

And you preach this?

But, for example, the centurion Mark, they called him the Rat Slayer - is he kind?

Yes,” answered the prisoner, “he is, indeed, an unhappy man.” Since good people disfigured him, he has become cruel and callous. It would be interesting to know who crippled him.

“I can readily report this,” Pilate responded, “for I witnessed this. Good people rushed at him like dogs at a bear. The Germans grabbed his neck, arms, and legs. The infantry maniple fell into the bag, and if the cavalry tour had not cut in from the flank, and I commanded it, you, philosopher, would not have had to talk to the Rat-Slayer. This was in the battle of Idistavizo, in the Valley of the Maidens.

If I could talk to him,” the prisoner suddenly said dreamily, “I’m sure he would change dramatically.”

“I believe,” Pilate responded, “that you would bring little joy to the legate of the legion if you decided to talk to any of his officers or soldiers.” However, this will not happen, fortunately for everyone, and I will be the first to take care of this.

At this time, a swallow quickly flew into the colonnade, made a circle under the golden ceiling, descended, almost touched the face of the copper statue in the niche with its sharp wing and disappeared behind the capital of the column. Perhaps the idea came to her to build a nest there.

During her flight, a formula developed in the now bright and light head of the procurator. It was like this: the hegemon looked into the case of the wandering philosopher Yeshua, nicknamed Ga-Notsri, and did not find any corpus delicti in it. In particular, I did not find the slightest connection between the actions of Yeshua and the unrest that occurred in Yershalaim recently. The wandering philosopher turned out to be mentally ill. As a result, the procurator does not approve the death sentence of Ha-Nozri, passed by the Small Sanhedrin. But due to the fact that Ha-Notsri’s crazy, utopian speeches could be the cause of unrest in Yershalaim, the procurator removes Yeshua from Yershalaim and subjects him to imprisonment in Caesarea Stratonova on the Mediterranean Sea, that is, exactly where the procurator’s residence is.

All that remained was to dictate this to the secretary.

The swallow's wings snorted just above the hegemon's head, the bird darted towards the bowl of the fountain and flew out into freedom. The procurator looked up at the prisoner and saw that a column of dust had caught fire near him.

Everything about him? - Pilate asked the secretary.

No, unfortunately,” the secretary unexpectedly answered and handed Pilate another piece of parchment.

What else is there? - Pilate asked and frowned.

Having read what was submitted, his face changed even more. Whether the dark blood rushed to his neck and face or something else happened, but his skin lost its yellowness, turned brown, and his eyes seemed to have sunk.

Again, the culprit was probably the blood rushing to his temples and pounding through them, only something happened to the procurator’s vision. So, it seemed to him that the prisoner’s head floated away somewhere, and another one appeared in its place. On this bald head sat a thin-toothed golden crown; there was a round ulcer on the forehead, corroding the skin and covered with ointment; a sunken, toothless mouth with a drooping, capricious lower lip. It seemed to Pilate that the pink columns of the balcony and the roofs of Yershalaim in the distance, below the garden, disappeared, and everything around was drowned in the dense greenery of the Caprean gardens. And something strange happened to my hearing, as if in the distance trumpets were playing quietly and menacingly, and a nasal voice was very clearly heard, arrogantly drawing the words: “The law on lese majeste...”

Thoughts rushed through, short, incoherent and extraordinary: “Dead!”, then: “Dead!..” And some completely ridiculous one among them about someone who must certainly be - and with whom?! - immortality, and for some reason immortality caused unbearable melancholy.

Pilate tensed, expelled the vision, returned his gaze to the balcony, and again the eyes of the prisoner appeared before him.

Listen, Ha-Nozri,” the procurator spoke, looking at Yeshua somehow strangely: the procurator’s face was menacing, but his eyes were anxious, “have you ever said anything about the great Caesar?” Answer! Did you say?.. Or... didn’t... say? - Pilate drew out the word “not” a little longer than is appropriate in court, and sent Yeshua in his gaze some thought that he seemed to want to instill in the prisoner.

It’s easy and pleasant to tell the truth,” the prisoner noted.

“I don’t need to know,” Pilate responded in a stifled, angry voice, “whether it’s pleasant or unpleasant for you to tell the truth.” But you'll have to say it. But when speaking, weigh every word if you do not want not only inevitable, but also painful death.

No one knows what happened to the procurator of Judea, but he allowed himself to raise his hand, as if shielding himself from a ray of sunlight, and behind this hand, as if behind a shield, he sent the prisoner some kind of suggestive glance.

So,” he said, “answer, do you know a certain Judas from Kiriath, and what exactly did you tell him, if anything, about Caesar?

It was like this,” the prisoner eagerly began to tell, “the day before yesterday in the evening I met a young man near the temple who called himself Judas from the city of Kiriath. He invited me to his house in the Lower City and treated me...

A kind person? - asked Pilate, and the devilish fire sparkled in his eyes.

“A very kind and inquisitive person,” the prisoner confirmed, “he expressed the greatest interest in my thoughts and received me very cordially...

He lit the lamps... - Pilate said through his teeth in the same tone as the prisoner, and his eyes flickered as he did so.

Yes,” Yeshua continued, a little surprised at the procurator’s knowledge, “he asked me to express my view of state power. He was extremely interested in this question.

And what did you say? - asked Pilate, - or will you answer that you forgot what you said? - but there was already hopelessness in Pilate’s tone.

Among other things, I said,” the prisoner said, “that all power is violence against people and that the time will come when there will be no power of either the Caesars or any other power. Man will move into the kingdom of truth and justice, where no power will be needed at all.

The secretary, trying not to utter a word, quickly scribbled words on the parchment.

There has not been, is not and will never be a greater and more beautiful power for people than the power of Emperor Tiberius! - Pilate’s torn and sick voice grew.

For some reason the procurator looked at the secretary and the convoy with hatred.

The convoy raised their spears and, rhythmically knocking their shod swords, walked out from the balcony into the garden, and the secretary followed the convoy.

The silence on the balcony was broken for some time only by the song of the water in the fountain. Pilate saw how the water plate swelled above the tube, how its edges broke off, how it fell in streams.

The prisoner spoke first:

I see that some kind of disaster is happening because I spoke with this young man from Kiriath. I, the hegemon, have a presentiment that misfortune will happen to him, and I feel very sorry for him.

“I think,” the procurator answered with a strange smile, “that there is someone else in the world whom you should feel sorry for more than Judas of Kiriath, and who will have to do much worse than Judas!” So, Mark the Ratboy, a cold and convinced executioner, people who, as I see,” the procurator pointed to the disfigured face of Yeshua, “beat you for your sermons, the robbers Dismas and Gestas, who killed four soldiers with their associates, and, finally, the dirty the traitor Judas - are they all good people?

Yes,” answered the prisoner.

And will the kingdom of truth come?

It will come, hegemon,” Yeshua answered with conviction.

It will never come! - Pilate suddenly shouted in such a terrible voice that Yeshua recoiled. So many years ago, in the Valley of the Virgins, Pilate shouted to his horsemen the words: “Cut them down! Cut them down! The Giant Rat Killer has been caught!” He even raised his voice, strained by commands, calling out the words so that they could be heard in the garden: “Criminal!” Criminal! Criminal!

Yeshua Ha-Nozri, do you believe in any gods?

There is only one God, answered Yeshua, and I believe in him.

So pray to him! Pray harder! However,” here Pilate’s voice sank, “this will not help.” No wife? - For some reason, Pilate asked sadly, not understanding what was happening to him.

No, I am alone.

“Hateful city,” the procurator suddenly muttered for some reason and shrugged his shoulders, as if he were cold, and rubbed his hands, as if washing them, “if you had been stabbed to death before your meeting with Judas of Kiriath, really, it would have been better.

“Would you let me go, hegemon,” the prisoner suddenly asked, and his voice became alarmed, “I see that they want to kill me.”

Pilate’s face was distorted with a spasm, he turned to Yeshua the inflamed, red-veined whites of his eyes and said:

Do you believe, unfortunate one, that the Roman procurator will release a man who said what you said? Oh gods, gods! Or do you think I'm ready to take your place? I don’t share your thoughts! And listen to me: if from now on you utter even one word, speak to anyone, beware of me! I repeat to you: beware.

Hegemon...

Be silent! - Pilate cried and with a wild gaze followed the swallow, which again fluttered onto the balcony. - To me! - Pilate shouted.

And when the secretary and the convoy returned to their places, Pilate announced that he approved the death sentence pronounced in the meeting of the Small Sanhedrin to the criminal Yeshua Ha-Nozri, and the secretary wrote down what Pilate said.

A minute later, Mark Ratboy stood in front of the procurator. The procurator ordered him to hand over the criminal to the head of the secret service and at the same time convey to him the procurator’s order that Yeshua Ha-Nozri be separated from other convicts, and also that the secret service team be prohibited from doing anything under pain of grave punishment talk to Yeshua or answer any of his questions.

At a sign from Mark, a convoy closed around Yeshua and led him out of the balcony.

Then a slender, light-bearded handsome man with lion muzzles sparkling on his chest, with eagle feathers on the crest of his helmet, with gold plaques on the sword belt, in shoes laced to the knees with a triple sole, and in a scarlet cloak thrown over his left shoulder, appeared before the procurator. This was the legate commander of the legion. His procurator asked where the Sebastian cohort was now. The legate reported that the Sebastians were holding a cordon in the square in front of the hippodrome, where the verdict on the criminals would be announced to the people.

Then the procurator ordered the legate to select two centuries from the Roman cohort. One of them, under the command of Ratboy, will have to escort criminals, carts with execution equipment and executioners when departing for Bald Mountain, and upon arrival at it, enter the upper cordon. The other should be immediately sent to Bald Mountain and begin the cordon immediately. For the same purpose, that is, to protect the Mountain, the procurator asked the legate to send an auxiliary cavalry regiment - the Syrian alu.

When the legate left the balcony, the procurator ordered the secretary to invite the president of the Sanhedrin, two of his members and the head of the temple guard of Yershalaim to the palace, but added that he asked to arrange it so that before the meeting with all these people he could speak with the president earlier and in private.

The orders of the procurator were carried out quickly and accurately, and the sun, which was burning Yershalaim with some extraordinary fury these days, had not yet had time to approach its highest point when on the upper terrace of the garden, near two marble white lions guarding the stairs, the procurator and the acting The duties of the President of the Sanhedrin are the Jewish High Priest Joseph Caiaphas.

It was quiet in the garden. But, emerging from under the colonnade onto the sun-filled upper square of the garden with palm trees on monstrous elephant legs, the square from which the whole of Yershalaim, which he hated, unfolded before the procurator with hanging bridges, fortresses and - most importantly - a block of marble with gold that defies any description dragon scales instead of a roof - the temple of Yershalaim - the procurator's keen hearing caught far and below, where a stone wall separated the lower terraces of the palace garden from the city square, a low grumbling, above which weak, thin moans or screams soared from time to time.

The procurator realized that a countless crowd of Yershalaim residents, agitated by the latest riots, had already gathered in the square, that this crowd was impatiently awaiting the verdict, and that restless water sellers were shouting in it.

The procurator began by inviting the high priest to the balcony in order to hide from the merciless heat, but Caiaphas politely apologized and explained that he could not do this. Pilate pulled his hood over his slightly balding head and began a conversation. This conversation was conducted in Greek.

Pilate said that he had examined the case of Yeshua Ha-Nozri and approved the death sentence.

Thus, three robbers are sentenced to death, which must be carried out today: Dismas, Gestas, Bar-Rabban and, in addition, this Yeshua Ha-Nozri. The first two, who decided to incite the people to revolt against Caesar, were taken in battle by the Roman authorities, are listed as the procurator, and, therefore, they will not be discussed here. The latter, Var-Rabban and Ha-Notsri, were captured by the local authorities and condemned by the Sanhedrin. According to the law, according to custom, one of these two criminals will have to be released in honor of the great Easter holiday coming today.

So, the procurator wants to know which of the two criminals the Sanhedrin intends to release: Bar-Rabban or Ga-Nozri? Caiaphas bowed his head as a sign that the question was clear to him and answered:

The Sanhedrin asks to release Bar-Rabban.

The procurator knew well that this was exactly how the high priest would answer him, but his task was to show that such an answer caused him amazement.

Pilate did this with great skill. The eyebrows on his arrogant face rose, the procurator looked straight into the eyes of the high priest with amazement.

I admit, this answer surprised me,” the procurator spoke softly, “I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding here.”

Pilate explained. The Roman government in no way encroaches on the rights of the spiritual local authorities, the high priest knows this well, but in this case there is a clear mistake. And the Roman authorities are, of course, interested in correcting this mistake.

In fact: the crimes of Bar-Rabban and Ha-Nozri are completely incomparable in severity. If the second, clearly a crazy person, is guilty of uttering absurd speeches that confused the people in Yershalaim and some other places, then the first is burdened much more significantly. Not only did he allow himself to directly call for rebellion, but he also killed the guard while trying to take him. Var-Rabban is much more dangerous than Ha-Nozri.

In view of all of the above, the procurator asks the high priest to reconsider the decision and leave at liberty the one of the two convicts who is less harmful, and this, without a doubt, is Ha-Nozri. So?

Caiaphas looked Pilate straight in the eye and said in a quiet but firm voice that the Sanhedrin had carefully examined the case and was reporting for the second time that it intended to release Bar-Rabban.

How? Even after my petition? The petitions of the one in whose person the Roman power speaks? High Priest, repeat a third time.

And for the third time we announce that we are freeing Bar-Rabban,” Kaifa said quietly.

It was all over, and there was nothing more to talk about. Ha-Notsri was leaving forever, and there was no one to cure the terrible, evil pains of the procurator; there is no remedy for them except death. But this was not the thought that struck Pilate now. The same incomprehensible melancholy that had already come on the balcony permeated his entire being. He immediately tried to explain it, and the explanation was strange: it seemed vague to the procurator that he had not finished speaking to the convict about something, or perhaps he had not heard something out.

Pilate drove away this thought, and it flew away in an instant, just as it had arrived. She flew away, and the melancholy remained unexplained, for it could not be explained by some other short thought that flashed like lightning and immediately went out: “Immortality... immortality has come...” Whose immortality has come? The procurator did not understand this, but the thought of this mysterious immortality made him feel cold in the sun.

“Okay,” said Pilate, “so be it.”

Then he looked around, looked around the world visible to him and was surprised at the change that had taken place. The bush, burdened with roses, disappeared, the cypress trees bordering the upper terrace, and the pomegranate tree, and the white statue in the greenery, and the greenery itself, disappeared. Instead, just some kind of crimson thicket floated, algae swayed in it and moved somewhere, and Pilate himself moved with them. Now he was carried away, suffocating and burning, by the most terrible anger, the anger of powerlessness.

I’m cramped,” said Pilate, “I’m cramped!”

With a cold, wet hand, he tore the buckle from the collar of his cloak, and it fell onto the sand.

“It’s stuffy today, there’s a thunderstorm somewhere,” Kaifa responded, not taking his eyes off the procurator’s reddened face and foreseeing all the torment that was still to come. "Oh, what a terrible month of Nisan this year!"

The high priest's dark eyes flashed, and, no worse than the procurator had earlier, he expressed surprise on his face.

What do I hear, procurator? - Caiaphas answered proudly and calmly, “are you threatening me after the verdict was passed, approved by you yourself?” Could it be? We are accustomed to the fact that the Roman procurator chooses his words before saying anything. Wouldn't anyone hear us, hegemon?

Pilate looked at the high priest with dead eyes and, baring his teeth, feigned a smile.

What are you, high priest! Who can hear us here now? Do I look like the young wandering holy fool who is being executed today? Am I a boy, Caiaphas? I know what I'm saying and where I'm saying it. The garden is cordoned off, the palace is cordoned off, so that not even a mouse can get through any crevice! Yes, not only a mouse, not even this one, what’s his name... from the city of Kiriath, will not penetrate. By the way, do you know someone like that, high priest? Yes... if someone like that got in here, he would bitterly feel sorry for himself, of course you will believe me on that? So know that from now on, high priest, you will have no peace! Neither you nor your people,” and Pilate pointed into the distance to the right, to where the temple was burning in the heights, “I’m telling you this - Pilate of Pontus, horseman of the Golden Spear!”

I know I know! - Black-bearded Caiaphas answered fearlessly, and his eyes sparkled. He raised his hand to heaven and continued: “The Jewish people know that you hate them with fierce hatred and you will cause them a lot of torment, but you will not destroy them at all!” God will protect him! He will hear us, the almighty Caesar will hear us, he will protect us from the destroyer Pilate!

Oh no! - Pilate exclaimed, and with every word it became easier and easier for him: there was no need to pretend anymore. There was no need to choose words. “You have complained too much to Caesar about me, and now my time has come, Caiaphas!” Now the news will fly from me, and not to the governor in Antioch and not to Rome, but directly to Caprea, the emperor himself, the news about how you are hiding notorious rebels in Yershalaim from death. And then I will not water Yershalaim with water from Solomon’s Pond, as I wanted for your benefit! No, not water! Remember how, because of you, I had to remove shields with the emperor’s monograms from the walls, move troops, I had, you see, to come myself and see what’s going on here! Remember my word, high priest. You will see more than one cohort in Yershalaim, no! The entire Fulminata legion will come under the city walls, the Arab cavalry will approach, then you will hear bitter weeping and lamentations. You will remember then the saved Bar-Rabban and you will regret that you sent the philosopher to his death with his peaceful preaching!

The high priest's face was covered with spots, his eyes were burning. He, like a procurator, smiled, grinning, and answered:

Do you, procurator, believe what you are saying now? No, you don't! The seducer of the people brought us no peace, no peace, to Yershalaim, and you, horseman, understand this very well. You wanted to release him so that he would confuse the people, outrage the faith and bring the people under the Roman swords! But I, the High Priest of the Jews, while I am alive, will not allow my faith to be mocked and will protect the people! Do you hear, Pilate? - And then Kaifa raised his hand menacingly: - Listen, procurator!

Caiaphas fell silent, and the procurator again heard, as it were, the sound of the sea rolling up to the very walls of the garden of Herod the Great. This noise rose from below to the feet and into the face of the procurator. And behind him, there, behind the wings of the palace, alarming trumpet signals, the heavy crunch of hundreds of legs, iron clanking were heard - then the procurator realized that the Roman infantry was already leaving, according to his order, rushing to the death parade, terrible for rioters and robbers.

Are you listening, procurator? “- the high priest repeated quietly, “are you really going to tell me that all this,” here the high priest raised both hands, and the dark hood fell from Kaifa’s head, “was caused by the pathetic robber Bar-Rabban?”

The procurator wiped his wet, cold forehead with the back of his hand, looked at the ground, then, squinting at the sky, saw that the hot ball was almost above his head, and the shadow of Caiaphas had completely shrunk near the lion’s tail, and said quietly and indifferently:

It's getting close to noon. We got carried away by the conversation, but meanwhile we must continue.

Having apologized to the high priest in elegant terms, he asked him to sit down on a bench in the shade of a magnolia tree and wait while he called the remaining persons needed for the last brief meeting and gave another order related to the execution.

Caiaphas bowed politely, putting his hand to his heart, and remained in the garden, while Pilate returned to the balcony. There, he ordered the secretary who was waiting for him to invite into the garden the legate of the legion, the tribune of the cohort, as well as two members of the Sanhedrin and the head of the temple guard, who were waiting to be called on the next lower terrace of the garden in a round gazebo with a fountain. To this Pilate added that he would immediately go out himself, and withdrew into the palace.

While the secretary was convening the meeting, the procurator, in a room shaded from the sun by dark curtains, had a meeting with some man, whose face was half covered by a hood, although the rays of the sun in the room could not disturb him. This meeting was extremely short. The procurator quietly said a few words to the man, after which he left, and Pilate walked through the colonnade into the garden.

There, in the presence of everyone he wanted to see, the procurator solemnly and dryly confirmed that he approved the death sentence of Yeshua Ha-Nozri, and officially inquired from the members of the Sanhedrin about which of the criminals he wanted to leave alive. Having received the answer that it was Bar-Rabban, the procurator said:

“Very good,” and ordered the secretary to immediately enter this into the protocol, squeezed the buckle picked up from the sand by the secretary in his hand and solemnly said: “It’s time!”

Here all those present set off down a wide marble staircase between the walls of roses, exuding an intoxicating aroma, descending lower and lower to the palace wall, to the gate opening onto a large, smoothly paved square, at the end of which the columns and statues of the Yershalaim lists could be seen.

As soon as the group, having left the garden to the square, climbed onto the vast stone platform that reigned over the square, Pilate, looking around through narrowed eyelids, figured out the situation. The space that he had just passed, that is, the space from the palace wall to the platform, was empty, but in front of him Pilate no longer saw the square - it was eaten up by the crowd. It would have flooded both the platform itself and that cleared space, if the triple row of Sebastian soldiers on Pilate’s left hand and soldiers of the Iturean auxiliary cohort on the right had not held it.

So, Pilate climbed onto the platform, mechanically clutching the unnecessary buckle in his fist and squinting. The procurator squinted not because the sun was burning his eyes, no! For some reason he did not want to see a group of convicts who, as he knew very well, were now being led onto the platform after him.

As soon as a white cloak with crimson lining appeared high on a stone cliff above the edge of the human sea, a sound wave hit the blind Pilate’s ears: “Gaaah...” It began quietly, originating somewhere in the distance near the hippodrome, then became thunderous and, after holding on for a few seconds, began to subside. “They saw me,” thought the procurator. The wave did not reach its lowest point and suddenly began to grow again and, swaying, rose higher than the first, and on the second wave, like foam boiling on a sea wall, a whistle and individual female moans, audible through the thunder, boiled up. “It was them who were brought onto the platform...” thought Pilate, “and the groans were because they crushed several women when the crowd moved forward.”

He waited for some time, knowing that no force could silence the crowd until it exhaled everything that had accumulated inside it and fell silent itself.

And when this moment came, the procurator threw his right hand up, and the last noise was blown away from the crowd.

Then Pilate drew as much hot air as he could into his chest and shouted, and his broken voice carried over thousands of heads:

In the name of Caesar the Emperor!

Then an iron, chopped scream hit his ears several times - in the cohorts, throwing up their spears and badges, the soldiers shouted terribly:

Long live Caesar!

Pilate raised his head and buried it directly in the sun. A green fire flashed under his eyelids, it set his brain on fire, and hoarse Aramaic words flew over the crowd:

Four criminals arrested in Yershalaim for murder, incitement to rebellion and insulting the laws and faith, were sentenced to a shameful execution - hanging from poles! And this execution will now take place on Bald Mountain! The names of the criminals are Dismas, Gestas, Var-Rabban and Ha-Nozri. Here they are in front of you!

Pilate pointed to the right with his hand, not seeing any criminals, but knowing that they were there, in the place where they needed to be.

The crowd responded with a long roar of surprise or relief. When it went out, Pilate continued:

But only three of them will be executed, for, according to law and custom, in honor of the Easter holiday, one of the condemned, at the choice of the Small Sanhedrin and according to the approval of the Roman authorities, the magnanimous Caesar Emperor returns his despicable life!

Pilate shouted out words and at the same time listened as the roar was replaced by great silence. Now neither a sigh nor a rustle reached his ears, and there even came a moment when it seemed to Pilate that everything around him had completely disappeared. The city he hated has died, and only he stands, burned by sheer rays, with his face to the sky. Pilate remained silent for a while longer, and then began shouting:

The name of the one who will now be released in front of you...

He made another pause, holding the name, checking that he had said everything, because he knew that the dead city would rise again after pronouncing the name of the lucky one and no further words could be heard.

“That’s it?” Pilate silently whispered to himself, “that’s it. Name!”

And, rolling the letter “r” over the silent city, he shouted:

Var-rabvan!

Then it seemed to him that the sun, ringing, burst above him and filled his ears with fire. In this fire roars, squeals, groans, laughter and whistles raged.

Pilate turned and walked along the bridge back to the steps, looking at nothing but the multi-colored checkers of the flooring under his feet, so as not to stumble. He knew that now behind him bronze coins and dates were flying like a hail onto the platform, that in the howling crowd people, crushing each other, were climbing on each other’s shoulders to see with their own eyes a miracle - how a man who had already been in the hands of death escaped from these hands! How the legionnaires remove the ropes from him, involuntarily causing him searing pain in his arms, dislocated during interrogation, how he, wincing and groaning, still smiles a meaningless, crazy smile.

He knew that at the same time a convoy was leading three men with their hands tied to the side steps to take them out onto the road leading west, outside the city, to Bald Mountain. Only when he found himself behind the platform, in the rear, did Pilate open his eyes, knowing that he was now safe - he could no longer see the condemned.

The groaning of the crowd, which was beginning to subside, was now mingled with the piercing cries of the heralds, who repeated, some in Aramaic, others in Greek, everything that the procurator had shouted from the platform. In addition, the sound of a horse's trumpet and a trumpet, which briefly and cheerfully shouted something, reached the ear. These sounds were answered by the drilling whistle of boys from the roofs of the houses of the street leading from the market to the hippodrome square, and the shouts of “Beware!”

The soldier, standing alone in the cleared space of the square with a badge in his hand, waved it anxiously, and then the procurator, the legate of the legion, the secretary and the convoy stopped.

The cavalry ala, picking up an ever wider trot, flew out into the square to cross it to the side, bypassing the crowd of people, and along the alley under the stone wall along which the grapes lay, galloping along the shortest road to Bald Mountain.

Flying at a trot, small as a boy, dark as a mulatto, the commander of the alya - a Syrian, equaled Pilate, shouted something subtly and grabbed a sword from its sheath. The angry black, wet horse shied away and reared up. Throwing his sword into its sheath, the commander hit the horse on the neck with his whip, straightened it out and galloped into the alley, breaking into a gallop. Behind him, horsemen flew three in a row in a cloud of dust, the tips of light bamboo lances jumped, faces that seemed especially dark under white turbans with cheerfully bared, sparkling teeth rushed past the procurator.

Raising dust to the sky, the ala burst into the alley, and the last to gallop past Pilate was a soldier with a pipe blazing in the sun behind his back.

Shielding himself from the dust with his hand and wrinkling his face with displeasure, Pilate moved on, rushing to the gates of the palace garden, followed by the legate, secretary and convoy.

It was about ten o'clock in the morning.

Mikhail Bulgakov - The Master and Margarita Chapter 02. Pontius Pilate, read the text

See also Bulgakov Mikhail - Prose (stories, poems, novels...):

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