The Master and Margarita the image of Pontius. Analysis of the chapter "Pontius Pilate" from the novel by M.A. Bulgakov's "The Master and Margarita". What happened to Pontius Pilate after the execution of Yeshua

Pontius Pilate in Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita is the character of the Master, that is, the hero of the novel in the novel, who at the end of the work converge on one common denouement. The story of the Procurator, who sent the wandering philosopher Yeshua Ha-Nozri, preaching love, to death, was written by the Master and paid for his courage in choosing a theme for the work.

Loneliness is the price of high social status

In the novel The Master and Margarita, the image of Pontius Pilate is one of the most controversial and tragic characters. The fifth procurator of Judea arrived in Jerusalem for service from Rome. His job was to judge the criminals of the city he hated.

Meeting a close soul

The Master's novel describes one trial in which Yeshua, nicknamed Ha-Nozri, appeared, accused of encouraging people to destroy the temple of existing power. At first, tension reigns in the dialogue between the accused and the procurator of Judea. This strange thinker calls the hegemon a kind person, and also claims that there are no evil people, but only unhappy people. This fact angers Pilate. He was not used to being perceived without fear - the procurator of Judea Pontius Pilate, distinguished by pride and an emphasized sense of his own dignity. He regarded such treatment as disrespect for his person.

Over time, however, Pilate and Yeshua began to sympathize with each other. But upon hearing the unacceptable speeches, with which in the depths of his soul he agreed, the procurator flew into a rage and announced the decision on the death sentence. Career and status outweighed sympathy for the kind and fearless guy on the scales of Pilate's judicial justice. Maybe it was a manifestation of cowardice, and not great power?

Pilate's vanity was dealt a blow. After all, some rogue is spiritually richer and happier than him. He was simply afraid to admit the simple philosophy of goodness and love that the young prophet carried. In making a decision, Pontius Pilate was guided not by his heart or even common sense, but only by unverified facts and anger because of wounded pride. He sentenced Yeshua to death on the basis of a report from a certain Judas from Kiriath. In appointing the sentence, the procurator believed that he would be able to save the Messiah. Indeed, on the eve of Easter, the Jewish high priest has the right to acquit one of the accused.

Remorse and futile attempts to correct the mistake

The three other criminals were being tried for grave sins, so Pontius Pilate was confident that the high priest Kaifa would acquit Yeshua. However, when the decision of the first clergyman of Yershalaim turned out to be different, because he decided to justify the murderer Barrabas, Pilate understood the terrible consequences of his mistake, but he could not do anything.

His torment was intensified by the information that Judas reported on Yeshua only in order to receive money from the high priest, and also when the head of the secret guard of the procurator spoke in detail about the behavior of Ha-Nozri at the execution. “The only thing he said was that he considers cowardice to be one of the most important of human vices,” Afranius said.

Pontius Pilate could not find a place for himself, because he put to death the only soul close to him. He understood that he no longer wanted to be in this position and in the city where he had approved so many death sentences, feeling innocent blood on his hands. With all his heart, Pilate wanted to do at least something to clear his conscience, although he understood that he could not return Yeshua. At his indirect request, Judas was killed, and he decided to take the only follower of the wandering philosopher Levi Matthew to himself.

The problem of conscience in the novel

Through the characterization of Pontius Pilate in the novel The Master and Margarita, the solution to the problems of cowardice and conscience is realized. Each of us is just a person who can make a mistake. And even though the mistake of Pontius Pilate was incorrigible, he realized what he had done and repented of it. Not higher powers, but his conscience did not allow him to sleep on every full moon, and when he managed to fall asleep, he saw Yeshua and dreamed of going with him along the lunar path. He thought now quite differently from what he had acted: “Cowardice is undoubtedly one of the most terrible vices. So spoke Yeshua Ha-Nozri. No, philosopher, I object to you: this is the most terrible vice. "

The Master, the author of the novel about Pilate, was able to save the Roman procurator from the prison of his own conscience and fulfill his desire to be near the Messiah. Ascending to heaven, Woland showed the Master his hero, who had been tormented by loneliness and remorse for centuries, and allowed him to complete his work, the ending of which was the phrase: "Free."

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The novel "The Master and Margarita" is not only the most famous in the entire work of Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov, but also the most widely read. And not only in Russia, but also abroad. Why is the work so loved by readers? Probably, the reason is that the novel perfectly reflects the realities of Soviet reality, and also perfectly reveals the characters' characters.

Among the main characters is Pontius Pilate. It is interesting that he is a historical person (1st century AD). Pilate is the personification of power. He is proud that everyone is afraid of him, considers him cruel. The procurator knows that the war is open and veiled, and he is sure that only those who do not know fear and doubts have it. However, the image of Pontius Pilate is idealized. Yes, yes, in fact, the procurator of Judea was even more cruel, and also distinguished by exorbitant greed.

The story of the origin of the ruler, invented in the Middle Ages in Germany, is presented in the novel as a fact. According to legend, Pontius Pilate is the son of Ata (the astrologer king) and Pyla (the miller's daughter). Once looking at the stars, the astrologer read from them that the child, who will be conceived by him now, will become a great man in the future. Then At ordered the beautiful Pyla to be brought to him, and after 9 months a child was born, who got his name from the names of his mother and father put together.

Contradictory personality. Pontius Pilate is both terrible and pitiable. The crime he committed against an innocent person dooms him to eternal torment. This story is also mentioned in one of the Gospel legends from Matthew (another interesting parallel: Levi Matthew was Yeshua's disciple in the novel). It says that the wife of the procurator of Judea had a terrible dream in which Pilate would pay for the crucifixion of the righteous.

The novel clearly shows the idea that Pontius Pilate does not want Yeshua to die. He sees that this person does not pose any danger to society, because he is not a thief, not a murderer, not a rapist. However, the state does not want to agree with the ruler, and the high priest, of course, sees a threat in a person who preaches an unknown religion. The Roman procurator is unable to fight, even the strongest mental anguish does not force him to make a decision at his own discretion: he knows that this can shake his authority in the eyes of society, his strength and power.

When the execution ritual was completed, and nothing could be corrected, Pontius Pilate completely forgot about a quiet life. He reproaches himself for his weakness, and at night he often sees a dream in which everything happens differently: there was nothing, Yeshua is alive, and they walk together along the lunar road and talk, talk ...

Surely the real Pilate did not torment himself with such doubts and regrets. However, M.A. Bulgakov supposedly believed that feelings of fear and justice can fight in the most inhuman tyrant. At the same time, the writer, as it were, shifts the responsibility for such a view onto the shoulders of the Master: after all, it is he who is the author of the Novel.

It is not known with what feelings the Roman ruler actually left this world, but in the book everything should end well, and in the end the fifth procurator of Judea, Pontius Pilate, will find peace of mind.

The Master and Margarita is a truly great work that every person who considers himself cultured must read.

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

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

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 Rhine-Rhine Germany. Once At, being on the move, he learned from the stars that the child he conceived immediately would become powerful and famous. The miller's daughter, Pila, was brought to the king. Pilate got his name from the addition of their names. The procurator apparently received the nickname Golden Spear for his keen eye and love for gold.

The posthumous fate of Pilate is connected with another legend. In the article "Pilate" of the Brockhaus and Efron encyclopedia, the name of the mountain of the same name in the Swiss Alps was associated with the fate of the fifth procurator of Judea, where "he seems to still appear on Good Friday and wash 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 the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 27:19) about Pilate's warning by his wife, who advises her husband not to harm the righteous man she saw in her dream, otherwise he, Pilate, will have to suffer for his careless actions. It is symbolic that the procurator's illness of hemicrania (migraine) was intensified due to rose oil - rose oil: a red rose is a symbol of the torment of the cross and the subsequent resurrection of Christ 4.

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

"6. When the chief priests and ministers saw Him, they cried out: Crucify, crucify Him! Pilate says to them: take Him you and crucify, for I find no fault 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, hearing this word, was more afraid ...

12.From now on Pilate sought to release Him. The Jews shouted: if you let him go, you are not Caesar's friend; everyone who makes himself king is an adversary to Caesar….

15. But they cried out: Take, take, crucify Him! Pilate says to them: Will I crucify your king? The chief priests answered: we have no king except Caesar.

16. Then at last he gave Him to them to be crucified[emphasis mine. - VC.]".

M. Bulgakov in his novel deploys, in fact, a deep Gospel story of doubt, fear and, ultimately, the betrayal of Jesus by Pilate. It is already in the Gospel of John that it is about betrayal that is discussed, since Pontius "did not find guilt in Him [Jesus]" and "sought to let him go."

Pontius Pilate as depicted by M. Bulgakov is a complex and dramatic character. Yeshua preaches in the novel: "All power is violence against people ... the time will come when there will be no power of either Caesar or any other power. Man will move into the kingdom of truth and justice, where no power will be needed at all."... For fear of denunciation, fear of ruining his career, Pilate approves the verdict, and Yeshua is executed. He commits evil under the pressure of circumstances that he could not resist, and then his whole life and further - during the "twelve thousand moons" - he repents of this. The colors of the clothes are symbolic (see the second chapter) of Pilate: he went out "into the covered colonnade between the two wings of the palace of Herod the Great" "in a white cloak with a 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 redeem his guilt before an innocent wandering philosopher. By order of Pontius Pilate, Yeshua's suffering was reduced: he was pierced with a spear. Following the secret order of the procurator, they kill Judas.

At the request of the Master and Margaret, Pontius Pilate in the last chapter of the novel receives release and forgiveness, and together with Yeshua he, in conversation, leaves along the lunar road. The idea of ​​forgiveness and mercy associated with the image of Pilate is one of the central ideas in The Master and Margarita, and it concludes the last - 32nd chapter of the novel: "This hero has gone into the abyss, gone irrevocably, 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":

"The Master and Margarita Chapter 02. Pontius Pilate"

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

More than anything in the world, 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 palms in the garden exuded a pink scent, that a cursed pink stream was mingled with the scent of leather and the convoy. From the outbuildings in the rear of the palace, where the first cohort of the twelfth lightning legion, who had come with the procurator to Yershalaim, settled down in smoke into the colonnade through the upper platform of the garden, and to the bitter smoke, which indicated that the cooks in the centuria began to cook dinner, the same greasy pink spirit. Oh gods, gods, what are you punishing me for?

"Yes, there is no doubt! It is she, again she, invincible, terrible disease of hemicrania, in which half my head hurts. There is no money from her, there is no salvation. I will try not to move my head."

An armchair was already prepared on the mosaic floor by the fountain, and the procurator, without looking at anyone, sat down in it and stretched out his hand to the side.

The secretary respectfully placed a piece of parchment in that hand. Unable to refrain from a painful grimace, the procurator looked sideways at what had been written, returned the parchment to the secretary and said with difficulty:

A Galilee suspect? Have you sent the case to the tetrarch?

Yes, Procurator, - answered the secretary.

What is he?

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

The procurator jerked his cheek and said quietly:

Bring the accused.

And now two legionnaires led in from the area of ​​the garden under the columns to the balcony and placed a man of about twenty-seven in front of the procurator's chair. This man was dressed in an old and torn blue tunic. 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 caked blood in the corner of his mouth. The one brought in looked at the procurator with anxious curiosity.

He paused, then asked quietly in Aramaic:

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

At the same time, the procurator sat like a stone, and only his lips moved slightly as he uttered the words. The procurator was like a stone, because he was afraid to shake his head, burning with hellish pain.

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

Kind person! Trust me...

But the procurator, still without moving and without raising his voice in the least, interrupted him right there:

Do you call me a kind person? You're wrong. In Yershalaim, everyone is whispering about me that I am a fierce monster, and this is absolutely true, ”and added in the same monotonous manner:“ Kenturion Rat-Slayer to me.

It seemed to everyone that it was dark on the balcony when the centurion, the commander of the special centuria, Mark, nicknamed the Rat-Slayer, appeared before the procurator.

The rat-slayer was a head taller than the tallest soldier in the legion, and was so broad at the shoulders that he completely obscured the still low sun.

The procurator addressed the centurion in Latin:

The perpetrator calls me "kind person". Get him out of here for a minute, explain to him how to talk to me. But don't maim.

And everyone, except for the motionless procurator, watched Mark Rat-Slayer, who waved his hand to the arrested person, indicating that he should follow him.

In general, everyone watched the rat-slayer, wherever he appeared, because of his height, and those who saw him for the first time, due to 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 rattled on the mosaic, the tied man followed him silently, complete silence fell in the colonnade, and you could hear the cooing pigeons on the garden platform by the balcony, and the water was singing an intricate pleasant song in the fountain.

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

Taking the arrested person out from under the columns into the garden. The rat-slayer took a whip from the hands of the legionnaire, who was 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 light, but the bound one instantly collapsed to the ground, as if his legs had been chopped off, choked with air, the color escaped from his face and his eyes became meaningless. Mark with one left hand, lightly like an empty sack, lifted the fallen man into the air, put him on his feet and spoke in a nasal voice, pronouncing the Aramaic words poorly:

The name of the Roman procurator is hegemon. Do not say any other words. Stand still. Do you understand me or 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 before the procurator.

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

The procurator said in a low voice:

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

Yeshua, - the prisoner answered hastily.

Do you have a nickname?

Ha-Nozri.

Where you're from?

From the city of Gamala, - the prisoner replied, showing with his head that there, somewhere far, to the right of him, in the north, there is the city of Gamala.

What blood are you?

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

Where do you live permanently?

I do not have a permanent home, - the prisoner answered shyly, - I travel from city to city.

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

There is nobody. I am alone in the world.

Do you know the letter?

Do you know any language other than Aramaic?

I know. Greek.

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

Pilate spoke in Greek:

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

Then the prisoner perked up again, his eyes ceased to express fear, and he spoke in Greek:

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

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

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

These good people, ”the prisoner began to speak, and, hastily adding:“ Hegemon, ”he continued:“ they didn’t learn anything and they confused everything that I said. In general, I am beginning to fear that this confusion will continue for a very long time. And all due to the fact that he incorrectly records after me.

There was a silence. Now both sick eyes were looking heavily at the prisoner.

I repeat to you, but for the last time: stop pretending to be crazy, robber, - said Pilate softly and monotonously, - there is not much written behind you, but it is enough written down to hang you.

No, no, hegemon, - all straining in his desire to convince, the arrested man spoke up, - he walks, walks alone with a goat's parchment and writes continuously. But I once looked into this parchment and was horrified. Absolutely nothing of what is written there, I did not say. I begged him: burn your parchment for God's sake! But he snatched it from my hands and ran away.

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

Levi Matvey, - the prisoner eagerly explained, - he was a tax collector, and I met him for the first time on the road to Bethphage, where the fig garden looks out at the corner, and got into conversation with him. Initially, he treated me with hostility and even insulted me, that is, he thought he was insulting, calling me a dog, - then the prisoner grinned, - I personally do not see anything wrong in this beast to take offense at this word ...

The secretary stopped taking notes and surreptitiously threw a surprised look, not at the arrested person, but at the procurator.

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

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

Oh, the city of Yershalaim! What can you not hear in it. The tax collector, you hear, threw money on the road!

Not knowing how to answer this, the secretary saw fit to repeat Pilate's smile.

Still grinning, the procurator looked at the arrested man, then at the sun, steadily rising up above the equestrian statues of the hippodrome lying far below to the right, and suddenly, in a kind of sickening torment, he thought that the easiest way would be to expel this strange robber from the balcony, saying only two words: "Hang it up." Expel the convoy, leave the colonnade inside the palace, order to darken the room, fall on the bed, demand cold water, call Bang the dog in a plaintive voice, complain to her about hemicrania. And the thought of poison suddenly flashed seductively in the procurator's ailing head.

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

Yes, Matthew Levi, - came a high, tormenting voice to him.

But what did you say about the temple to the crowd in the bazaar?

I, hegemon, said that the temple of the old faith would collapse and a new temple of truth would be created. He said it so that it was clearer.

Why did you, a tramp, confuse the people at the bazaar, telling about the truth about which you have no idea? What is Truth?

And then the procurator thought: "Oh, my gods! I ask him about something unnecessary at the trial ... My mind does not serve me anymore ..." And again he imagined a bowl with a dark liquid. "Poison to me, poison!"

The truth is, first of all, that your head hurts, and it hurts so badly that you faintly think about death. Not only are you unable to speak to me, but it is difficult for you even to look at me. And now I unwittingly am your executioner, which makes me sad. You cannot even think about anything and only dream of your dog coming, apparently the only creature to which you are attached. But your torment will now end, your head will pass.

The secretary goggled at the prisoner and did not finish the word.

Pilate raised his martyr's eyes to the prisoner and saw that the sun was already quite high above the hippodrome, that the beam had made its way into the colonnade and crawled up to Yeshua's worn-out sandals, that he was avoiding the sun.

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

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

Well, it’s all over, ”said the arrested man, glancing benevolently at Pilate,“ and I am extremely happy about that. I would advise you, hegemon, to leave the palace for a while and take a walk somewhere in the vicinity, well, at least in the gardens on the Mount of Olives. The thunderstorm will begin, - the prisoner turned, squinted at the sun, - later, towards evening. The walk would be of great benefit to you, and I would gladly accompany you. Some new thoughts came to my mind that might, I think, seem interesting to you, and I would gladly share them with you, especially since you give the impression of a very intelligent person.

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

The trouble is, - continued the bound, unstoppable by anyone, - that you are too withdrawn and completely lost faith in people. You must admit that you can't put all your affection in a dog. Your life is meager, hegemon, - and then the speaker allowed himself to smile.

The secretary was now thinking of only one thing, whether to believe his ears or not. I had to believe. Then he tried to imagine in what kind of bizarre form the anger of the hot-tempered procurator would pour out 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 with a spear, handed it over to another, approached and removed the ropes from the prisoner. The secretary raised the scroll, decided not to write anything down and not be surprised at anything for the time being.

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

No, Procurator, I'm not a doctor, ”the prisoner replied, rubbing his crumpled and swollen crimson hand with pleasure.

Abruptly, from under his brows, Pilate bored the prisoner's eyes, and there was no cloudiness in those eyes, the familiar sparks appeared in them.

I didn’t ask you, - said Pilate, - maybe you know Latin too?

Yes, I know, - answered the prisoner.

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

How did you know I wanted to call the dog?

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

Yes, - said Pilate.

They were silent, then Pilate asked a question in Greek:

So, are you a doctor?

No, no, - the prisoner answered briskly, - believe me, I am not a doctor.

Well, OK. If you want to keep it a secret, keep it. This has nothing to do with the case. So you say that you did not call to destroy ... or set fire to, or in any other way destroy the temple?

I, hegemon, did not call anyone to such actions, I repeat. Do I look like a feeble-minded person?

Oh, yes, you do not look like a feeble-minded person, ”the procurator answered quietly and smiled some kind of terrible smile,“ so swear that it didn’t happen.

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

Well, at least by your life, - answered the procurator, - it is high 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 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 his hand from the sun, - you must agree that only the one who hung it can probably cut the hair?

So, so, - Pilate said with a smile, - now I have no doubt that idle onlookers in Yershalaim followed on your heels. I don't know who hung your tongue, but it hangs well. By the way, tell me: is it true that you came to Yershalaim through the Susa gate astride a donkey, accompanied by a crowd of rabble, shouting greetings to you as if to some prophet? - here the procurator pointed to a roll 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 only Matthew Levi, and no one shouted anything to me, since no one in Yershalaim knew me then.

Don't you know such, - continued Pilate, not taking his eyes off the prisoner, - a certain Dismas, another - Gestas and the third - Bar-Rabban?

I don’t know these kind people, ”the prisoner replied.

Now tell me that you use the words "kind people" all the time? Do you call everyone that?

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

This is the first time I hear about this, - said Pilate, grinning, - but maybe I know little about life! You don't have to write down further, - he turned to the secretary, although he did not write anything down anyway, and continued to say to the prisoner: - In any of the Greek books you read about this?

No, I got to this point with my mind.

And do you preach it?

But, for example, the centurion Mark, he was nicknamed the Rat Slayer - is he kind?

Yes, - replied the prisoner, - he is, indeed, an unhappy person. Since the good people disfigured him, he became cruel and callous. It would be interesting to know who crippled him.

I can gladly report this, - Pilate responded, - for I was a witness of it. Kind people rushed at him like dogs at a bear. The Germans grabbed his neck, arms, legs. The infantry maniple fell into the sack, and if the cavalry turma had not been cut in from the flank, and I commanded it, you, a philosopher, would not have had to talk to Rat Slayer. This was in the battle at Idistaviso, in the Valley of the Devs.

If we could talk to him, - the prisoner suddenly said dreamily, - I am sure that he would have changed dramatically.

I suppose, - replied Pilate, - that you would bring little joy to the legate of the legion if you decided to talk to one of his officers or soldiers. However, this will not happen, to the general happiness, and the first one to take care of this will be me.

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

During her flight, a formula was formed in the now light and light head of the procurator. It was as follows: the hegemon examined the case of the wandering philosopher Yeshua, nicknamed Ha-Notsri, and found no corpus delicti in it. In particular, I did not find the slightest connection between the actions of Yeshua and the riots that took place 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-Notsri by the Lesser Sanhedrin. But in view of the fact that the crazy, utopian speeches of Ha-Nozri can 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.

It remained to dictate this to the secretary.

The swallow's wings snorted over the very head of the hegemon, the bird darted to the bowl of the fountain and flew out into the wild. The procurator raised his eyes to the prisoner and saw that dust had burst into flames near him.

All about him? - Pilate asked the secretary.

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

What else is there? - asked Pilate and frowned.

After reading the file, his face changed even more. Whether dark blood rushed to his neck and face, or something else happened, but only his skin lost its yellowness, turned brown, and his eyes seemed to have sunk.

Again, the blood that rushed to the temples and pounded in them was probably to blame, only the procurator had something wrong with his eyesight. So, it seemed to him that the prisoner's head floated away somewhere, and instead of it another appeared. On this bald head sat a sparse-toothed golden crown; there was a round ulcer on the forehead, corroding the skin and smeared with ointment; sunken toothless mouth with drooping lower lip, capricious. It seemed to Pilate that the pink columns of the balcony and the roofs of Yershalaim had disappeared in the distance, behind the garden below, and everything sank around in the thickest green of the Caprean gardens. And something strange happened to the hearing, as if the trumpets were playing quietly and menacingly in the distance and a nasal voice was heard very clearly, haughtily pulling the words: "The law on insult to the majesty ..."

Thoughts rushed short, incoherent and extraordinary: "Perished!", Then: "Perished! .." And some absolutely ridiculous among them about something that must certainly be - and with whom ?! - immortality, and immortality for some reason caused unbearable melancholy.

Pilate tensed, banished the vision, returned with his gaze to the balcony, and again the prisoner's eyes were in front of him.

Listen, Ha-Nozri, - said the procurator, looking at Yeshua in a strange way: the procurator's face was menacing, but his eyes were alarmed, - have you ever said anything about the great Caesar? Answer me! Did you speak? .. Or ... did not ... speak? - Pilate stretched out the word "not" a little more than is required by the court, and sent Yeshua in his gaze some thought that he would like to instill in the prisoner.

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

I don’t need to know, ”Pilate responded in a strangled, angry voice,“ whether it is pleasant or unpleasant for you to tell the truth. But you have to tell her. But, 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 from the sun's ray, and behind this hand, like behind a shield, send the prisoner some kind of hinting glance.

So, - he said, - answer, do you know a certain Judas from Kiriath, and what exactly did you say to him, if you spoke, about Caesar?

It was like this, - the prisoner willingly began to tell, - the day before yesterday 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 to ...

Kind person? - asked Pilate, and a devilish fire flashed in his eyes.

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

I lit the lamps ... - Pilate said through his teeth in tune with the prisoner, and his eyes twinkled at the same time.

Yes, - a little surprised by the awareness of the procurator, continued Yeshua, - he asked me to express my view of the 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, - said the prisoner, - 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. A person will pass into the kingdom of truth and justice, where no power will be needed at all.

The secretary, trying not to say a word, quickly drew words on the parchment.

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

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

The convoy raised the spears and, with a measured knocking of shod kaligas, went 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 over the tube, how its edges broke off, how it fell in trickles.

The prisoner spoke first:

I see that some kind of trouble is happening because I spoke to this young man from Kiriath. I, hegemon, have a premonition that misfortune will happen to him, and I am very sorry for him.

I think, - the procurator answered with a strange laugh, - that there is still someone in the world whom you should have pitied more than Judas of Kiriath, and who will have much worse than Judas! So, Mark the Rat-slayer, a cold and convinced executioner, people who, as I see, - the procurator pointed to Yeshua's disfigured face - were beaten for your sermons, the robbers Dismas and Gestas, who killed four soldiers with their attendants, and, finally, dirty traitor Judas - are they all good people?

Yes, - the prisoner answered.

And the kingdom of truth will come?

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

It will never come! - Pilate suddenly shouted in such a terrible voice that Yeshua staggered back. 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-Slayer has been caught!" He raised his voice, thwarted by the commands, shouting out the words so that they could be heard in the garden: “Outlaw! Criminal! Criminal!

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

God is one, - answered Yeshua, - I believe in him.

So pray to him! Pray better! However, - here Pilate's voice sat down, - it will not help. No wife? - For some reason Pilate asked sadly, not understanding what was happening to him.

No, I am alone.

Hateful city, - suddenly for some reason muttered the procurator and shrugged his shoulders, as if chilled, and rubbed his hands, as if washing them, - if you were stabbed to death before your meeting with Judas from Kiriath, really, it would be better.

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

Pilate's face was contorted with a convulsion, he turned to Yeshua the inflamed whites of his eyes with red veins and said:

Do you suppose, unfortunate one, that the Roman procurator will release the man who said what you said? Oh gods, gods! Or do you think I'm ready to take your place? I do not share your thoughts! And listen to me: if from this minute you utter at least one word, talk to someone, beware of me! I repeat to you: beware.

Hegemon ...

Be silent! - cried Pilate and with a furious 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 was confirming the death sentence passed in the assembly of the Lesser Sanhedrin to the criminal Yeshua Ha-Nozri, and the secretary wrote down what Pilate had said.

A minute later, Mark Ratslayer 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-Notsri be separated from the other convicts, and that the secret service team should be prohibited from anything under pain of severe 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's muzzles sparkling on his chest, with eagle feathers on the crest of his helmet, with gold plaques on the sword belt, in shoes laced up to the knees with triple soles, in a crimson cloak thrown over his left shoulder, appeared before the procurator. This was the legate commander of the legion. His procurator asked about 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 sentence against the criminals would be announced to the people.

Then the procurator ordered the legate to separate two centuria from the Roman cohort. One of them, under the command of Rat Slayer, will have to escort criminals, carts with devices for executions and executioners when leaving for Bald Mountain, and upon arriving at it, enter the upper cordon. The other one should be immediately sent to Bald Mountain and begin the cordon immediately. For the same purpose, that is, to guard the Mountain, the procurator asked the legate to send an auxiliary cavalry regiment - the Syrian ala.

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

The orders of the procurator were executed quickly and accurately, and the sun, which was burning Yershalaim these days with some unusual fury, had not yet managed to approach its highest point, when on the upper terrace of the garden, two marble white lions guarding the stairs met the procurator and the executor. duties of the president of the Sanhedrin; the high priest of the Jews, Joseph Kaifa.

The garden was quiet. But, coming out from under the colonnade to the sun-flooded upper square of the garden with palm trees on monstrous elephant legs, the square from which all the hated Yershalaim with hanging bridges, fortresses and - most importantly - with a block of marble with gold that defied any description, unfurled in front of the procurator. dragon scales instead of a roof - the temple of Yershalaim - with a keen hearing the procurator caught the far and below, where the stone wall separated the lower terraces of the palace garden from the city square, a low grumbling, over which at times faint, thin moans or cries soared.

The procurator realized that an innumerable crowd of Yershalaim residents, agitated by the latest riots, had already gathered on the square, that this crowd was impatiently awaiting the sentencing, 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 Kaifa politely excused himself and explained that he could not do this. Pilate threw the hood over his slightly balding head and began a conversation. This conversation was in Greek.

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

Thus, three robbers were sentenced to the death penalty, which should be performed today: Dismas, Gestas, Bar-Rabban and, in addition, this Yeshua Ha-Notsri. The first two, who took it into their heads to incite the people to revolt against Caesar, were taken in battle by the Roman authorities, are listed with the procurator, and, therefore, they will not be discussed here. The latter, Bar-Rabban and Ha-Notsri, were seized by the local authorities and condemned by the Sanhedrin. According to the law, according to custom, one of these two criminals will need to be released in honor of the great Easter holiday that is coming today.

So, the procurator wants to know which of the two criminals the Sanhedrin intends to free: Bar-Rabban or Ha-Nozri? Kaifa 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 very well that the high priest would answer him in this way, but his task was to show that such an answer aroused his amazement.

Pilate did this with great skill. The eyebrows on the haughty face rose, the procurator looked the high priest straight in the eyes with amazement.

I confess that this answer surprised me, ”the procurator spoke softly,“ I’m afraid there is no misunderstanding here.

Pilate explained himself. The Roman government does not at all encroach on the rights of the spiritual local government, the high priest is well aware of this, but in this case there is an obvious mistake. And the Roman authorities, of course, are interested in correcting this mistake.

Indeed, the crimes of Bar-Rabban and Ha-Nozri are completely incomparable in gravity. If the second, obviously crazy person, is guilty of uttering ridiculous speeches that embarrassed the people in Yershalaim and some other places, then the first one is much more burdened. Not only did he indulge in direct calls for rebellion, but he also killed the guard while trying to take him. Bar-Rabban is much more dangerous than Ha-Nozri.

By virtue of all the above, the procurator asks the high priest to reconsider the decision and to leave at liberty the one of the two convicts who is less harmful, and such, no doubt, is Ha-Nozri. So?

Kaifa looked Pilate straight in the eyes and said in a quiet but firm voice that the Sanhedrin had carefully examined the case and announced a second time that he intended to free Bar-Rabban.

How? Even after my petition? The intercessions of the one in whose person the Roman authorities speak? 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-Nozri was leaving forever, and there was no one to cure the terrible, evil pains of the procurator; there is no remedy from them but death. But it was not this thought that struck Pilate now. All 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 vaguely to the procurator that he had not finished something with the convict, and perhaps he had not heard something out.

Pilate chased away this thought, and it flew away in an instant, just as it had arrived. She flew away, but the melancholy remained unexplained, for it could not be explained by the flashing lightning and immediately extinguished some short other thought: "Immortality ... immortality has come ..." Whose immortality has come? The procurator did not understand this, but the thought of this mysterious immortality made him chill in the sun.

Well, - 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 weighed down with roses disappeared, the cypresses bordering the upper terrace, and the pomegranate tree, and the white statue in greenery, and the greenery itself, disappeared. Instead of all this, some kind of crimson thicket swam, algae swayed in it and moved somewhere, and Pilate himself moved with them. Now he was carried away, suffocating and burning, the most terrible anger, the anger of impotence.

Closely for me, - said Pilate, - for me!

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

Today it is stuffy, somewhere there is a thunderstorm, - answered Kaifa, not taking his eyes off the reddened face of the procurator and foreseeing all the torments that still lay ahead. "Oh, what a terrible month of Nisan this year!"

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

What do I hear, Procurator? - Kaifa answered proudly and calmly. Could it be? We are accustomed to the fact that the Roman procurator chooses his words before saying anything. Would anyone have heard us, hegemon?

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

What are you, high priest! Who can hear us here now? Do I look like a young wandering holy fool who is being executed today? Am I a boy, Kaifa? I know what I am saying and where I am speaking. The garden is cordoned off, the palace is cordoned off, so that a mouse will not penetrate any crevice! Yes, not only a mouse, even this one, like him ... from the city of Kiriath, will not penetrate. By the way, do you know this, high priest? Yes ... if such a person had penetrated here, he would have bitterly felt sorry for himself, in this you will, of course, believe me? So know that there will be no rest for you, high priest, from now on! Neither you, nor your people, - and Pilate pointed into the distance to the right, to where the temple was burning in the height, - I tell you this - Pilate of Pontus, horseman Golden Spear!

I know I know! - Fearlessly answered the black-bearded Kaifa, and his eyes flashed. He raised his hand to heaven and continued: - The Jewish people know that you hate them with fierce hatred and you will inflict a lot of torment on them, but you will not destroy them at all! God will protect him! He will hear us, the almighty Caesar will hear, he will hide 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 hour has come, Kaifa! Now the news will fly from me, but not to the governor in Antioch and not to Rome, but directly to Caprei, the emperor himself, the news about how you are hiding the notorious rebels in Yershalaim from death. And not with water from Solomon's pond, as I wanted for your benefit, then I will give Jerusalem to drink! No, not with water! Remember how because of you I had to remove the shields with the emperor's monograms from the walls, move the troops, you see, I had to come myself, to see what was going on here! Remember my word, high priest. You will see more than one cohort in Yershalaim, no! The Fulminat legion will come under the walls of the city, the Arab cavalry will approach, then you will hear bitter weeping and groaning. You will remember the then saved Bar-Rabban and you will regret that you sent a philosopher to his death with his peaceful sermon!

The high priest's face was covered with spots, his eyes burned. He, like the procurator, smiled, grinning, and replied:

Do you, procurator, believe what you are saying now? No, you don’t believe! The seducer of the people in Yershalaim brought us not peace, not peace, and you, the horseman, understand this perfectly well. You wanted to release him so that he confused the people, outraged the faith and led the people under the Roman swords! But I, the high priest of the Jews, as long as I live, will not give the faith to reproach and I will protect the people! Do you hear, Pilate? And then Kaifa raised his hand threateningly: “Listen, procurator!

Kaifa fell silent, and the procurator again heard the sound of the sea rolling up to the very walls of Herod the Great's garden. This noise rose from below to the feet and in the face of the procurator. And behind him, there, behind the wings of the palace, alarming trumpets were heard, the heavy crunch of hundreds of feet, the iron clatter - then the procurator realized that the Roman infantry was already leaving, according to his order, striving for the death parade, terrible for rebels and robbers.

Do you hear, Procurator? - the high priest repeated quietly, - will you really tell me what all this is, - then the high priest raised both hands, and the dark hood fell off Kaifa's head, - called the miserable 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 red-hot ball was almost over his very head, and Kaifa's shadow had completely shrunk against the lion's tail, and said quietly and indifferently:

It goes by noon. We were carried away by the conversation, but meanwhile we must continue.

In exquisite expressions, apologizing to the high priest, he asked him to sit on a bench in the shade of a magnolia and wait until he summoned the rest of the persons needed for the last brief conference and gave another order related to the execution.

Kaifa bowed politely, putting his hand to his heart, and stayed 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 chief of the temple guard, who were awaiting summons on the next lower terrace of the garden in a round pavilion with a fountain. To this, Pilate added that he would immediately go out himself, and withdrew into the palace.

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

There, in the presence of all whom he wished to see, the procurator solemnly and dryly confirmed that he was confirming the death sentence of Yeshua Ha-Notsri, and officially inquired from the members of the Sanhedrin about which of the criminals he wanted to keep alive. Having received the answer that this is Bar-Rabban, the procurator said:

Very good, - and ordered the secretary to immediately put it in the protocol, squeezed the buckle that the secretary had raised from the sand in his hand and solemnly said: - It's time!

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

As soon as the group, leaving the garden on the square, ascended the vast stone platform reigning over the square, Pilate, looking back through narrowed eyelids, understood the situation. The space that he had just passed, that is, the space from the palace wall to the platform, was empty, but Pilate did not see the square in front of him - it was eaten by the crowd. It would have flooded both the platform itself and that cleared space, if the triple row of Sebastian soldiers on the left hand of Pilate and the soldiers of the Iturean auxiliary cohort on the right did not hold it.

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

As soon as a white cloak with crimson lining appeared at a height on a stone cliff above the edge of the human sea, a sound wave hit the blind Pilate: "Ha-ah ..." 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 boiled up and individual female moans, which were discernible through the thunder. "They were led onto the platform ..." thought Pilate, "and the groans because they crushed several women when the crowd leaned forward."

He waited for a while, knowing that no force can silence the crowd until it exhales everything that has accumulated inside it and stops itself.

And when that moment came, the procurator threw up his right hand, and the last noise blew away from the crowd.

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

In the name of Caesar the Emperor!

Then an iron chopped cry struck him several times in his ears - in the cohorts, throwing up spears and badges, the soldiers shouted terribly:

Long live Caesar!

Pilate lifted his head and buried it directly in the sun. A green fire flashed under his eyelids, his brain caught 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 shameful execution - hanging on poles! And this execution will now take place on Bald Mountain! The names of the criminals are Dismas, Gestas, Bar-Rabban and Ha-Notsri. 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 hum of surprise or relief. When it went out, Pilate continued:

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

Pilate shouted out the words and at the same time listened to the great silence replacing the rumble. Now not a sigh, not a rustle reached his ears, and even a moment came when it seemed to Pilate that everything around him had disappeared altogether. The city they hated has died, and only he is standing, burned by sheer rays, with his face in the sky. Pilate held the silence still, and then began to shout out:

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

He paused one more time, holding the name, checking to see if 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.

“Everything?” Pilate whispered to himself, “everything. Name!”

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

Bar-Rabban!

Then it seemed to him that the sun, ringing, burst over him and flooded his ears with fire. Roaring, squeals, groans, laughter and whistles raged in this fire.

Pilate turned and walked across the bridge back to the steps, not looking at anything except the multicolored checkers of the flooring under his feet so as not to stumble. He knew that now behind his back bronze coins and dates were flying onto the platform like a hail, that in the howling crowd people, crushing each other, climb on their shoulders to see with their own eyes a miracle - like a man who was already in the hands of death escaped from these hands! How the legionnaires remove the ropes from him, involuntarily causing him a burning pain in his arms dislocated during interrogation, how he, grimacing and groaning, still smiles a meaningless, crazy smile.

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

The moaning of the crowd, which was beginning to subside, now mingled and the shrill cries of the heralds were discernible, repeating, some in Aramaic, others in Greek, all that the procurator had shouted from the platform. In addition, a fractional, chirping and approaching horse stomp and a trumpet, which shouted something shortly and cheerfully, reached the ears. These sounds were answered by the boring whistle of boys from the rooftops of the streets leading from the bazaar to the hippodrome square, and shouts of "beware!"

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

The cavalry ala, taking ever wider lynx, flew out to the square in order to cross it aside, bypassing the crowd of people, and along the alley under the stone wall, along which the grapes were cascaded, to ride the shortest way to Bald Mountain.

Flying at a trot, small as a boy, dark as a mulatto, the commander of the ala - a Syrian, equalizing with Pilate, shouted something subtly and drew his sword from its sheath. The angry black, sweaty horse recoiled, reared up. Sheathed the sword, the commander struck the horse in the neck with a whip, straightened it and galloped into the alley. Riders flew three in a row after him in a cloud of dust, the tips of light bamboo lances jumped, faces, seemingly especially dark under white turbans, rushed past the procurator with gaily grinning, sparkling teeth.

Kicking up dust up to the sky, ala burst into the alley, and the last soldier galloped past Pilate with a chimney blazing in the sun behind him.

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

It was about ten o'clock in the morning.

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

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

The Master and Margarita Chapter 03. The Seventh Proof
- Yes, it was about ten o'clock in the morning, Honorable Ivan Nikolaevich, - ska ...

The Master and Margarita Chapter 04. The Pursuit
Hysterical female screams subsided, police whistles were drilled, two dignitaries ...

The events described in the novel "The Master and Margarita" show how the possibility of choice faced by the main characters can affect the fate of each of us. Bulgakov tries to convey to the reader that the course of history is influenced by good, truth, freedom, and not the usual power and evil, which are in eternal confrontation.

The image and characterization of Pontius Pilate in "The Master and Margaret" will help to understand what kind of person he really is, and how the crime he committed reflected on his future life, dooming him to eternal torment and repentance.

Pontius Pilate is the fifth Roman procurator of Judea, who ruled the country from 26-36 AD.

Family

Little is known about Pontius Pilate's family. According to legend, he is the fruit of the love of the astrologer king and the miller's daughter. Looking at the star map of Ata, I thought that a child conceived that night would definitely become a great person. And so it happened. Exactly 9 months later, Pontius Pilate was born, whose name is a component of two names, the paternal Ata and the maternal Pyla.

Pontius Pilate's appearance

Pontius Pilate's appearance did not differ from an ordinary person, despite the fact that he was the procurator of Judea. Slavic features slip through the whole appearance. Yellowish skin tone. Always perfectly shaved with no signs of weekly stubble.

"On a yellowish shaved face."

There is almost no hair left on the head.

"I put my hood over my balding head."

He suffers daily from migraines, which give him a lot of inconvenience, and hates what he does. The city that has to rule and its inhabitants. Because of this, Pontius Pilate is constantly in an irritated state, often ripping off evil on the people around him.

His clothes are a white raincoat.

"White cloak with bloody lining."

He walked:

"Shuffling, cavalry gait",

Giving him a military man. On the feet are ordinary sandals worn on bare feet. In all appearance, strength and power are felt, but what was happening in his soul was known only to him.

Service

Pontius Pilate ended up in Yershalaim on a service sent from Rome. Every day he has to do a bunch of routine work: sort out court cases, lead the army, listen to denunciations, decide fate. He hates what he does. This is the city where I have to be on duty. People who were doomed to execution, treating them with complete indifference.

Character

Pontius Pilate is essentially a deeply unhappy man. Despite the power he possessed, making the whole world around him tremble, he was a lonely, vulnerable man, hiding his true face under the mask of a despot. Pilate was educated and intelligent. He was fluent in three languages: Latin, Greek, Aramaic.

The procurator's loyal friend was Bang's dog.

"... your dog, apparently the only creature to which you are attached ..."

They were inseparable, trusting each other infinitely. His life is empty and meager. There is only one place in it - service.

The people around him considered him angry and unsociable.

"... in Yershalaim everyone whispers about me that I am a fierce creature, and this is absolutely true ..."

He was cruel to people. They avoided him, trying not to provoke in him the fits of anger that are characteristic of him due to constant migraines. Arrogance gave him a formidable, stern look. Brave in life, he behaved like a coward in the deal with Yeshua. Despising everyone, he hated himself, his position and the inability to change anything.

What happened to Pontius Pilate after the execution of Yeshua

Another working moment in the life of Pontius Pilate played a key role that left an imprint on the novel as a whole. The execution of prisoners is a common thing for the procurator. He was used to taking it for granted, not counting those arrested for people and not being interested in their fate. During the interrogation of Yeshua, he is convinced that the person in front of him is innocent of the crime presented. In addition, he was the only one who is able to relieve him of a constantly boring headache. So another personality trait was revealed in him - compassion.

With the power given to him, he could not overturn the sentence and release the guy. The only way he could help him was to make sure that the condemned were killed immediately, without suffering. Pontius Pilate could not resist the pressure of circumstances by committing evil. After this act, he "twelve thousand moons" in time will repent of his deed. Remorse had robbed him of his normal sleep. At night, in fits and starts, he has the same dream, where he walks along the lunar road.

Liberation

At the end of the novel, he is pardoned for being punished on Saturday night to Sunday after 2000 years. Yeshua forgave him, turning to Woland (Satan) with a request to release Pontius Pilate. Finally, the procurator's dream came true. He was able to free himself from torment. The moon road was waiting for him. Now he will walk along it not alone, but together with Yeshua, continuing the conversation begun once.