Mars were complete, the crowds surged toward the great open market, where tables groaning with food had been set out for them. At last the officers were freed from their stations, and Tiberius retired to his home on the Palatine to wash the red from his face. Pilate stepped toward the Senate’s banquet hall, realizing that he was suddenly famished.
“A most satisfactory triumph for the Emperor’s heir, don’t you think?” came a voice at his elbow.
“Ave, Proculus!” said Pilate. “Indeed it was. This was the first triumph I have witnessed since I was fifteen, and it was most satisfying to be marching in it instead of standing in the crowd!”
The older man nodded. “I watched it from the window with your father,” he said. “He was very gratified to see you so close to the triumphator’s chariot!”
Pilate smiled. “I am glad he was well enough to see it,” he said. “I fear he does not have long left with us.”
Proculus nodded. “I will be surprised if he lives past midsummer,” he said. “There is one more thing he told me he would like to see before he crosses the Styx.”
“His eldest son’s marriage?” asked Pilate.
“Exactly!” said Proculus.
“I have been meaning to speak to you about this,” Pilate said. “With your permission, I should like to propose to your daughter, Procula Porcia.”
The older man beamed. “Her mother and I have been hoping you would ask,” he said. “She has been fond of you for many years, long before you went to Germania.”
“That is gratifying to know,” said Pilate. “I did not notice her much then, except to see that she was growing into a beautiful young lady. I will speak to her tomorrow morning. For now, how about if I join the feast with my future father-in-law?”
The two Romans linked arms and walked toward the couches that had been set up inside the Forum for the members of the Senate and senior army officers. As they stepped into the chamber, the members of the Senate rose as one and applauded the newest winner of the Civic Crown. Pilate returned their salutes with a generous bow, and then reclined at the table. Being shown such respect by men who were far his senior in years and rank filled him with a deep joy. His rise in the world was truly well begun!
The next morning Pilate went calling at the home of Gaius Proculus Porcius, dressed in his finest toga and bearing a fine, jeweled necklace as a gift for his lady. He was shown to the atrium, where Procula Porcia waited for him. Her carriage and posture were flawless, as befit a Roman lady, but her eyes were demurely cast downward, as befit a maiden unbetrothed.
“Good morning, Procula Porcia,” said Pilate. “I trust you are well?”
“I am quite well, Pontius Pilate,” she said. “It has been a joy to see you back in Rome, and I was very proud to see you honored before the city yesterday.”
“I have spoken to your father, Porcia, to ask for your hand in marriage,” said Pilate. “That is, if such a union is suitable to you.”
She looked him in the eyes and smiled. “Nothing would suit me more!” she said. “Oh, Pilate, I was so hoping you would ask, and so afraid that you would not! Of course, I would marry whoever my father asked me to, but I was so afraid he would choose some fat old Senator thirty years older than me!”
“A Senator would be a fine match for your family,” said Pilate. “And he could probably keep you in better style than I will be able to. Should I withdraw my request?”
“Silly man!” she said with a giggle. “You are a Senator, only younger and better looking than the majority of them. And the only way I want to be kept is by you!”
“Then kiss me, sweet girl, and we will call it a betrothal!” said Pilate. She did kiss him then, and it was a most satisfying kiss—enthusiastic but not overly erotic, as befit the virgin daughter of a respectable Roman family. “Now let me see how this looks on you!” he said, and placed his gift
“A most satisfactory triumph for the Emperor’s heir, don’t you think?” came a voice at his elbow.
“Ave, Proculus!” said Pilate. “Indeed it was. This was the first triumph I have witnessed since I was fifteen, and it was most satisfying to be marching in it instead of standing in the crowd!”
The older man nodded. “I watched it from the window with your father,” he said. “He was very gratified to see you so close to the triumphator’s chariot!”
Pilate smiled. “I am glad he was well enough to see it,” he said. “I fear he does not have long left with us.”
Proculus nodded. “I will be surprised if he lives past midsummer,” he said. “There is one more thing he told me he would like to see before he crosses the Styx.”
“His eldest son’s marriage?” asked Pilate.
“Exactly!” said Proculus.
“I have been meaning to speak to you about this,” Pilate said. “With your permission, I should like to propose to your daughter, Procula Porcia.”
The older man beamed. “Her mother and I have been hoping you would ask,” he said. “She has been fond of you for many years, long before you went to Germania.”
“That is gratifying to know,” said Pilate. “I did not notice her much then, except to see that she was growing into a beautiful young lady. I will speak to her tomorrow morning. For now, how about if I join the feast with my future father-in-law?”
The two Romans linked arms and walked toward the couches that had been set up inside the Forum for the members of the Senate and senior army officers. As they stepped into the chamber, the members of the Senate rose as one and applauded the newest winner of the Civic Crown. Pilate returned their salutes with a generous bow, and then reclined at the table. Being shown such respect by men who were far his senior in years and rank filled him with a deep joy. His rise in the world was truly well begun!
The next morning Pilate went calling at the home of Gaius Proculus Porcius, dressed in his finest toga and bearing a fine, jeweled necklace as a gift for his lady. He was shown to the atrium, where Procula Porcia waited for him. Her carriage and posture were flawless, as befit a Roman lady, but her eyes were demurely cast downward, as befit a maiden unbetrothed.
“Good morning, Procula Porcia,” said Pilate. “I trust you are well?”
“I am quite well, Pontius Pilate,” she said. “It has been a joy to see you back in Rome, and I was very proud to see you honored before the city yesterday.”
“I have spoken to your father, Porcia, to ask for your hand in marriage,” said Pilate. “That is, if such a union is suitable to you.”
She looked him in the eyes and smiled. “Nothing would suit me more!” she said. “Oh, Pilate, I was so hoping you would ask, and so afraid that you would not! Of course, I would marry whoever my father asked me to, but I was so afraid he would choose some fat old Senator thirty years older than me!”
“A Senator would be a fine match for your family,” said Pilate. “And he could probably keep you in better style than I will be able to. Should I withdraw my request?”
“Silly man!” she said with a giggle. “You are a Senator, only younger and better looking than the majority of them. And the only way I want to be kept is by you!”
“Then kiss me, sweet girl, and we will call it a betrothal!” said Pilate. She did kiss him then, and it was a most satisfying kiss—enthusiastic but not overly erotic, as befit the virgin daughter of a respectable Roman family. “Now let me see how this looks on you!” he said, and placed his gift
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