The Master and Margarita

CHAPTER 16. The Execution       The sun was already going down over Bald Mountain, and the mountain wascordoned off by a double cordon.     The cavalry ala that  had cut across the  procurator's path around nooncame  trotting  up to the Hebron gate of the city. Its way had  already beenprepared.   The  infantry   of  the  Cappadocian  cohort   had   pushed  theconglomeration  of  people,  mules  and camels to the  sides, and  the  ala,trotting  and  raising  white  columns  of dust  in  the  sky,  came  to  anintersection where two roads met: the  south  road leading to Bethlehem, andthe north-west  road to  Jaffa. The ala raced down the north-west road.  Thesame Cappadocians were strung  out along the sides of the road, and in  goodtime had driven to the sides of  it  all the caravans hastening to the feastin Yershalaim.  Crowds  of  pilgrims stood behind the  Cappadocians,  havingabandoned their temporary striped  tents, pitched right on the  grass. Goingon for  about  a half-mile, the ala caught up with the second  cohort of theLightning legion and, having  covered another half-mile, was  the  first  toreach the foot of  Bald Mountain. Here they dismounted. The  commander brokethe ala up into  squads, and  they cordoned off the  whole foot of the smallhill, leaving open only the way up from the Jaffa road.     After some dme, the  ala  was joined  at the hill by the second cohort,which climbed one level higher and also encircled the hill in a wreath.     Finally the  century  under the  command  of Mark Ratslayer arrived. Itwent stretched  out in files along the sides of the road,  and between thesefiles, convoyed by the secret guard, the three condemned men rode in a cart,white boards hanging around  their necks with 'robber and rebel' written  oneach of them in two languages -- Aramaic and Greek.     The  cart with  the condemned  men was  followed by  others laden  withfreshly hewn posts  with crosspieces, ropes, shovels, buckets  and axes. Sixexecutioners  rode  in these carts. They were  followed on  horseback by thecenturion Mark, the chief  of the temple guard of Yershalaim,  and that samehooded man with whom  Pilate  had had a momentary meeting in a darkened roomof the palace.     A file of soldiers brought up the rear of the procession, and behind itwalked about two thousand of the curious, undaunted by the infernal heat andwishing to be  present at  the interesting spectacle. The curious  from  thecity  were now  joined by  the  curious from among  the  pilgrims, who  wereadmitted without  hindrance to the tail of  the procession. Under the shrillcries of the heralds who accompanied the column and cried aloud  what Pilatehad cried out at around noon, the procession drew itself up Bald Mountain.     The  ala admitted everyone to the  second level, but the second centurylet  only  those  connected with the  execution  go  further up,  and  then,manoeuvring quickly, spread the crowd around the entire hill, so that peoplefound  themselves between the  cordons  of infantry above and cavalry below.Now they could watch the execution through the sparse line of the infantry.     And so, more than three hours had gone  by since the procession climbedthe mountain, and the sun was already going down over Bald Mountain, but theheat was still unbearable,  and  the soldiers in both cordons  suffered fromit, grew  weary  with boredom, and cursed the three robbers in their hearts,sincerely wishing them the speediest death.     The little commander of the  ala,  his  brow moist and the back of  hiswhite shirt  dark with sweat, having  placed himself at the foot of the hillby the  open  passage, went over to the leather  bucket of the  first  squadevery now and then,  scooped handfuls of water from it, drank and wetted histurban. Somewhat relieved by that, he would step away and again begin pacingback and forth on the dusty road leading to  the top. His long sword slappedagainst his laced leather boot. The commander wished to give  his cavalrymenan example of endurance, but, pitying his soldiers, he allowed them to sticktheir spears pyramid-like  in  the  ground and throw their white cloaks overthem. Under these tents, the Syrians hid from the merciless sun. The bucketswere quickly emptied, and cavalrymen  from different squads took turns goingto  fetch water in the gully  below the hill,  where  in the  thin  shade ofspindly  mulberries a  muddy  brook  was  living  out  its last  days in thedevilish  heat.  There, too,  catching the  unsteady shade,  stood the boredhorse-handlers, holding the quieted horses.     The weariness  of the soldiers and the abuse they  aimed at the robberswere understandable. The procurator's apprehensions concerning the disordersthat might occur at  the time of the execution in the city of Yershalaim, sohated by  him, fortunately were not borne out. And when the  fourth hour  ofthe  execution came, there was, contrary  to all expectations, not  a singleperson left between the two files, the infantry above and the cavalry below.The sun had scorched the crowd and driven it back to Yershalaim. Beyond  thefile of two Roman centuries there were only two dogs that belonged to no oneknew whom  and had for some reason ended up on the hill. But the heat got tothem,  too,  and they lay down  with their  tongues hanging out, panting andpaying no attention to  the green-backed lizards, the only beings not afraidof the  sun, darting among the scorching stones and some sort of big-thornedplants that crept on the ground.     No one  attempted to rescue  the condemned  men  either  in  Yershalaimitself, flooded with troops, or here on the cordoned-off hill, and the crowdwent back to  the city, for  indeed there was absolutely nothing interestingin  this execution, while there in the  city preparations were under way forthe great feast of Passover, which was to begin that evening.     The  Roman infantry  on  the  second level suffered still more than thecavalry. The only thing the centurion Ratslayer allowed his soldiers was  totake off their helmets  and cover their heads with white headbands dipped inwater,  but he kept them standing, and with their spears  in their hands. Hehimself, in  the  same kind of headband, but dry, not wet, walked  about notfar  from the  group of executioners, without even taking the silver plaqueswith lions' muzzles off his shirt, or removing his greaves, sword and knife.The sun beat straight down on the centurion without doing  him any harm, andthe  lions' muzzles were impossible to look at -  the eyes were  devoured bythe dazzling gleam of the silver which was as if boiling in the sun.     Ratslayer's mutilated face expressed neither weariness nor displeasure,and it seemed that the giant centurion  was capable of pacing like  that allday, all night  and the  next day -  in short, for as  long as necessary. Ofpacing in the same way,  holding his hands to the heavy belt with its bronzeplaques, glancing in the same stern way  now  at the posts with the executedmen, now at the file of  soldiers, kicking  aside with the  toe of  a shaggyboot  in  the same  indifferent way  human  bones whitened by time  or smallflints that happened under his feet.     That  man in the hood  placed  himself  not  far from the  posts  on  athree-legged stool and sat there in complacent morionlessness, though pokingthe sand with a twig from time to time out of boredom.     What has  been said  about  there  not being a single person beyond thefile of legionaries  is  not quite true. There was one person, but he simplycould not be seen by everyone. He had placed himself,  not on the side wherethe way up  the  mountain was open and from  where it would  have been  mostconvenient to  watch the  execution, but on  the north side, where the slopewas  not gentle and accessible, but uneven, with gaps and clefts, where in acrevice,  clutching at  the heaven-cursed  waterless soil, a sickly fig treewas trying to live.     Precisely under  it, though it  gave no  shade, this sole spectator whowas not a participant in the execution had established  himself, and had saton a stone from  the very beginning, that is, for over three hours now. Yes,he had  chosen  not  the  best but  the  worst  position  for  watching  theexecution.  But still, even from there the  posts could be  seen,  and therecould also be seen,  beyond the file of soldiers, the two dazzling spots  onthe  centurion's chest, and that  was apparently quite enough for  a man whoobviously wished to remain little noticed and not be bothered by anyone.     But  some four hours ago,  at the start of  the execution, this man hadbehaved quite differently,  and might have been noticed very well, which wasprobably why he had now changed his behaviour and secluded himself.     It was  only when the procession came to the very top, beyond the file,that  he had  first appeared, and as  an obvious latecomer  at  that. He wasbreathing hard, and did not walk but ran up the hill, pushing  his way, and,seeing  the file close together before  him as before everyone  else, made anaive attempt, pretending  he did not understand the angry shouts, to  breakthrough the soldiers to the very place of execution, where the condemned menwere already being taken from the cart. For that he received a heavy blow inthe  chest with  the  butt  end  of  a spear,  and he  leaped back  from thesoldiers, crying  out not in pain but  in despair. At the legionary who  haddealt the  blow he cast a  dull  glance, utterly indifferent  to everything,like a man insensible to physical pain.     Coughing and breathless, clutching  his chest, he ran  around the hill,trying to find some  gap in the file on  the north side where he  could slipthrough.  But it was  too  late, the ring was closed.  And the man, his facedistorted with grief, was forced to  renounce his attempts  to break throughto the carts, from which the posts had already been unloaded. These attemptswould  have led nowhere,  except that  he would  have been seized, and to bearrested on that day by no means entered his plans.     And so he  went to the side, towards  the crevice, where it was quieterand nobody bothered him.     Now, sitting on  the stone, this  black-bearded man, his eyes festeringfrom the sun and lack of sleep, was in anguish. First he sighed, opening histallith, worn out in his wanderings, gone from light-blue to dirty grey, andbared his  chest, which had been hurt by the spear and down which ran  dirtysweat;  then, in  unendurable pain, he raised his eyes to the sky, followingthe  three vultures that had long been  floating in  great  circles on high,anticipating  an imminent feast; then he peered with hopeless eyes into  theyellow earth, and  saw on it  the half-destroyed skull of a dog  and lizardsscurrying around it.     The man's sufferings were so great that  at times  he began talking  tohimself.     'Oh, fool that I am . ..' he muttered, swaying on the stone in the painof his heart and clawing his swarthy  chest with his nails. 'Fool, senselesswoman, coward! I'm not a man, I'm carrion!'     He would  fall silent,  hang his  head, then,  after drinking some warmwater from a wooden flask, he would revive again and clutch now at the knifehidden on his chest under the tallith, now at the  piece of parchment  lyingbefore him on the stone next to a stylus and a pot of ink.     On this parchment some notes had already been scribbled:     The minutes run on, and I, Matthew Levi, am here  on Bald Mountain, andstill no death!'     Further:     The sun is sinking, but no death.'     Now Matthew Levi wrote hopelessly with the sharp stylus:     'God! Why are you angry with him? Send him death.'     Having written this, he sobbed  tearlessly and again wounded his  chestwith his nails.     The reason  for Levi's  despair lay in the terrible misfortune that hadbefallen Yeshua and him and, besides that, in the grave error that he, Levi,in  his own opinion, had committed.  Two  days earlier, Yeshua and  Levi hadbeen in Bethphage near Yershalaim, where they had visited a certain gardenerwho liked Yeshua's preaching very much. The two visitors had spent the wholemorning  working  in the garden, helping  their  host, and  planned to go toYershalaim towards evening when it cooled off. But Yeshua began to hurry forsome reason, said he had urgent business  in the city, and left alone aroundnoontime.  Here lay  Matthew Levi's  first error. Why, why had he let him goalone!     Nor was Matthew Levi to go to Yershalaim that evening. He was struck bysome unexpected and terrible ailment. He began to shake, his whole  body wasfilled with fire, his teeth chattered, and he kept asking to  drink  all thetime.     He  could  not go  anywhere.  He collapsed on  a horse blanket  in  thegardener's shed and lay there till dawn on Friday, when the illness releasedLevi as unexpectedly as it had fallen upon him. Though he was still weak andhis  legs  trembled,  he took  leave of his  host  and,  oppressed  by  someforeboding of  disaster,  went  to  Yershalaim.  There he learned  that  hisforeboding  had not deceived him -  the disaster occurred.  Levi  was in thecrowd and heard the procurator announce the sentence.     When the condemned men were led off  to the mountain,  Matthew Levi ranalongside the file in the crowd of the curious, trying to let Yeshua know insome  inconspicuous way that at least he, Levi, was there with  him, that hehad not abandoned him  on his  last  journey,  and that  he was praying thatdeath would overtake Yeshua as soon as possible. But Yeshua, who was lookinginto the  distance towards  where he was being taken, of course did  not seeLevi.     And then,  when the  procession  had gone  about a half-mile  along theroad,  a simple  and  ingenious  thought dawned  on Matthew, who  was  beingjostled by the crowd just next to the file, and in his excitement he at onceshowered himself with curses for not having thought of it  earlier. The fileof soldiers  was  not solid, there were  spaces  between them.  Given  greatdexterity and a precise calculation, one  could bend  down, slip between twolegionaries, make  it to  the cart and jump into  it.  Then Yeshua would  besaved from suffering.     One instant would be  enough to stab Yeshua in the back  with  a knife,crying to him:  'Yeshua!  I  save  you  and go  with you!  I,  Matthew, yourfaithful and only disciple!'     And if God granted  him  one more free instant, he would also have timeto stab himself and avoid death on a post. This last, however, was of littleinterest  to Levi, the former tax  collector. He  was indifferent to  how hedied. He wanted one thing, that Yeshua, who had never in his  life done  theleast evil to anyone, should escape torture.     The plan was  a very good one, but the fact of the matter was that Levihad no knife with him. Nor did he have a single piece of money.     Furious with  himself,  Levi got  out of the crowd and ran back  to thecity.  A single feverish  thought was leaping  in his burning  head: how  toprocure a  knife there in  the city, in any way possible, and have  time  toovertake the procession.     He ran up  to the  city gate, manoeuvring amid the  throng  of caravansbeing  sucked  into the city, and saw to his left the open door of  a littleshop where bread was  sold. Breathing  hard after running  down the scorchedroad, Levi got control  of himself, entered the shop very sedately,  greetedthe woman behind the counter, asked her to take the top loaf from the shelf,which for some reason he liked better than the  others, and  when she turnedaround, silendy  and quickly  took  from the  counter that than  which therecould  be nothing better - a long,  razor-sharp bread  knife  - and at  oncedashed out of the shop.     A  few moments later he was again on the Jaffa road. But the processionwas no longer in sight. He ran. At  times  he had to drop down  right in thedust and lie motionless to recover his breath. And so he would lie there, tothe astonishment of people riding on mules or walking on foot to Yershalaim.He would lie listening to his heart  pounding not only in  his chest but  inhis head  and ears.  Having recovered his breath a little, he  would jump upand continue running, but  ever  slower and slower. When  he finally  caughtsight of the long procession raising dust in the distance, it was already atthe foot of the hill.     'Oh, God!  . . .' Levi  moaned,  realizing that he was going  to be toolate. And he was too late.     When the fourth hour  of  the execution had  gone  by,  Levi's tormentsreached their highest degree and  he  fell into a rage. Getting  up from thestone, he flung to the ground the  stolen knife - stolen in  vain, as he nowthought - crushed the flask with his foot, depriving himself of water, threwoff his kefia, seized his thin hair, and began cursing himself.     He  cursed  himself, calling  out meaningless words, growled and  spat,abused his father and mother for bringing a fool into the world.     Seeing  that  curses  and  abuse  had  no  effect  and  nothing in  thesun-scorched place  was changed by  them,  he clenched his dry fists, raisedthem, squinting,  to  the  sky,  to  the  sun that was  sliding ever  lower,lengthening the  shadows and  going  to  fall into  the  Mediterranean,  anddemanded an immediate miracle from  God. He demanded that  God  at once sendYeshua death.     Opening his  eyes, he became convinced that everything on the  hill wasunchanged, except that  the  blazing spots on the centurion's chest had goneout.  The sun was sending its  rays into the backs of the  executed men, whowere facing Yershalaim. Then Levi shouted:     'I curse you. God!'     In  a rasping voice he shouted that he was convinced of God's injusticeand did not intend to believe in him any longer.     Tou  are deaf!' growled Levi. 'If  you  were  not deaf,  you would haveheard me and killed him straight away!'     Shutting his eyes, Levi waited  for the fire that would  fall from  thesky and strike him instead. This did  not happen, and  Levi, without openinghis  eyes,  went on  shouting offensive and sarcastic things at the  sky. Heshouted about his  total disappointment, about the existence of  other  godsand  religions. Yes, another god  would not have  allowed it, he would neverhave allowed a man like Yeshua to be burnt by the sun on a post.     'I was mistaken!'  Levi cried in a completely hoarse voice. 'YOU are  agod of evil! Or are your eyes completely  clouded by  smoke from  the templecensers,  and have your  ears ceased  to hear  anything but  the  trumpetingnoises of the  priests? You  are not an almighty god! You are a black god! Icurse you, god of robbers, their soul and their protector!'     Here something  blew into the face  of  the former  tax  collector, andsomething rustled under his feet.  It blew once more, and  then, opening hiseyes,  Levi saw that, either  under the influence of his curses, or owing toother reasons, everything in  the world was changed. The sun had disappearedbefore reaching the sea, where it sank every evening. Having swallowed it, astorm cloud  was rising  menacingly and inexorably  against the  sky  in thewest. Its edges were already seething with white foam, its black smoky bellywas tinged with  yellow. The storm  cloud was growling, threads of fire fellfrom it now and again. Down the  Jaffa road, down the meagre  Hinnom valley,over the tents  of the pilgrims, driven by the  suddenly risen wind, pillarsof dust went flying.     Levi fell silent,  trying to grasp  whether the storm that was about tocover  Yershalaim would  bring any  change  in the  fate of the  unfortunateYeshua. And straight away,  looking  at the threads  of  fire cutting up thecloud, he  began to  ask that  lightning  strike Yeshua's  post. Repentantlylooking into the clear sky that had  not yet been devoured by the cloud, andwhere  the  vultures  were veering on  one wing to escape  the  storm,  Levithought he had been insanely hasty with his curses: now God was not going tolisten to him.     Turning his gaze to the foot of the hill, Levi fixed on the place wherethe strung-out cavalry regiment stood, and saw that considerable changes hadtaken place there. From above, Levi  was able to distinguish  very well  thesoldiers bustling about, pulling  spears out  of the ground, throwing cloakson,  the horse-handlers  trotting towards the road  leading black  horses bytheir bridles.  The regiment  was moving off,  that was clear.  Spitting andshielding himself with  his  hand from the dust blowing  in  his  face, Levitried to grasp  what it might  mean  if the cavalry  was about  to leave. Heshifted  his gaze  further up  and made  out  a little figure  in  a crimsonmilitary chlamys climbing  towards the place of execution. And here  a chillcame over  the  heart  of the  former  tax collector in  anticipation of thejoyful end.     The  man  climbing the  mountain  in the  fifth  hour  of the  robbers'sufferings  was the commander  of the cohort, who  had  come  galloping fromYershalaim accompanied by an aide. At a gesture  from Ratslayer, the file ofsoldiers parted, and  the centurion saluted the tribune.  The latter, takingRatslayer aside,  whispered something  to  him. The centurion  saluted him asecond time and moved towards the group of executioners, who were sitting onstones  at the  foot of the posts. The tribune meanwhile  directed his stepstowards  the  one  sitting  on  the three-legged  stool, and the  seated manpolitely rose to meet the tribune. And the tribune  said something to him ina low voice, and the two  went  over  to the posts. They were joined  by thehead of the temple guard.     Ratslayer, casting  a squeamish sidelong glance at the dirty rags lyingon the ground  near the  posts, rags that  had  recently been the criminals'clothing,  and which  the executioners had rejected, called two of them  andordered:     'Follow me!'     From the nearest post came a hoarse, senseless song. Gestas, hanging onit, had lost his mind from the flies and sun  towards the end  of  the thirdhour, and was  now quiedy  singing something  about  grapes,  but his  head,covered with a turban, occasionally swayed all the same,  and then the fliesrose sluggishly from his face and setded on it again.     Dysmas, on the second post, suffered more than die other two because hedid  not   lose   consciousness,  and  he  swung  his  head  constantly  andrhythmically, right and left, so diat his ears struck his shoulders.     Yeshua  was more fortunate than the other two. In  die very first hour,he began to have blackouts, and then he fell into oblivion, hanging his headin  its unwound turban.  The  flies  and  horseflies  dierefore covered  himcompletely, so that his face disappeared under die black swarming  mass.  Inhis groin, and on his belly,  and in his armpits, fat horseflies sat suckingat his yellow naked body.     Obeying  the gestures of the  man in the hood, one of the  executionerstook  a spear and anodier brought a bucket and  a  sponge  to die post.  Thefirst executioner raised the spear  and  with it  tapped first one, then theother of Yeshua's arms,  stretched out and bound widi  ropes to die crossbarof  the  post.  The  body,  with  its  protruding  ribs, gave a  start.  Theexecutioner passed die tip of the  spear over the  belly. Then Yeshua raisedhis head, and the flies  moved off with  a  buzz, revealing  the face of thehanged man, swollen with bites, the eyes puffy, an unrecognizable face.     Ungluing his  eyelids, Ha-Nozri looked down. His  eyes,  usually clear,were slighdy clouded.     'Ha-Nozri!' said the executioner.     Ha-Nozri moved his swollen Ups and answered in a hoarse robber's voice:     'What do you want? Why have you come to me?'     'Drink!' said the executioner, and a water-soaked sponge on die dp of aspear rose to Yeshua's lips. Joy flashed in his eyes, he clung to die spongeand began greedily imbibing  the  moisture. From the neighbouring post  camethe voice of Dysmas:     'Injustice! I'm a robber just like him!'     Dysmas strained  but  was unable  to move, his arms being bound  to thecrossbar in  three places with loops of rope. He  drew in his belly,  clawedthe ends of the  crossbar  widi his  nails,  kept  his head  turned  towardsYeshua's post, malice blazed in die eyes of Dysmas.     A dusty cloud covered the place, it became much  darker. When die  dustblew away, die centurion shouted:     'Silence on the second post!'     Dysmas fell  silent.  Yeshua  tore himself away from  die  sponge,  andtrying to make his  voice sound gende and persuasive, but not succeeding, hebegged the executioner hoarsely:     'Give him a drink.'     It  was growing ever darker. The  storm cloud had already poured acrosshalf the sky, aiming towards Yershalaim, boiling white clouds raced ahead ofthe storm cloud suffused with black moisture and fire. There was a flash anda thunderclap right over the hill. The  executioner removed  the sponge fromthe spear.     'Praise the  magnanimous  hegemon!' he  whispered solemnly,  and  gendypricked Yeshua in the heart. He twitched and whispered:     'Hegemon . . .'     Blood ran down his  belly, his lower  jaw twitched convulsively and hishead dropped.     At the second thunderclap, the executioner was already giving  Dysmas adrink, and with the same words:     'Praise the hegemon!' -- killed him as well.     Gestas,  deprived  of  reason,  cried out  fearfully  as  soon  as  theexecutioner  came  near him,  but when  the sponge  touched his  lips, he  'growled something  and seized  it  widi his teeth.  A few seconds later  hisbody, too, slumped as much as the ropes would allow.     The  man in the hood followed the  executioner  and the centurion,  andafter him came the head of the temple guard. Stopping at die first post, theman  in die hood  examined the blood-covered Yeshua attentively, touched hisfoot with his white hand, and said to his companions:     'Dead.'     The same was repeated at die odier two posts.     After that the  tribune motioned to the centurion and, turning, startedoff die hilltop together with die head of the temple guard and the man in mehood.  Semi-darkness  set  in, and lightning farrowed  the black  sky.  Firesuddenly sprayed out of it, and die centurion's shout:  'Raise the cordon!',was drowned  in  rumbling. The happy soldiers rushed headlong down the hill,putting on their helmets.     Darkness covered Yershalaim.     Torrents of  rain poured down suddenly and caught the centuries halfwaydown the hill. The deluge fell so  terribly  that the soldiers  were alreadypursued by raging streams as they ran downhill. Soldiers slipped and fell inthe sodden clay, hurrying to get to the level road, along which - now barelyvisible through the sheet  of water  - the  thoroughly  drenched cavalry washeading  for Yershalaim.  A few  minutes later only one man remained in  thesmoky brew of storm, water and fire on the hill.     Shaking the not uselessly stolen knife, falling  from  slippery ledges,clutching  at whatever  was  there,  sometimes  crawling  on  his  knees, hestrained  towards the  posts. He  now vanished  in total  darkness,  now wassuddenly illumined by a tremulous light.     Having made his way to the posts, already up to his ankles in water, hetore  off his heavy water-soaked  taUith,  remaining just in his  shirt, andclung to Yeshua's feet. He  cut the  ropes on his shins, stepped  up  on thelower crossbar, embraced Yeshua and freed his arms from the upper bonds. Thenaked,  wet body  of Yeshua collapsed on Levi and brought him to the ground.Levi wanted to heave  it on to his shoulders straight away, but some thoughtstopped him.  He left  the body with its thrown-back head and outspread armson the ground in the water, and ran, his feet slithering apart in the clayeymire, to  the other posts. He  cut  the ropes on them  as well, and the  twobodies collapsed on the ground.     Several minutes  passed,  and all that remained on the  top of the hillwas these two bodies and the three empty posts. Water beat on the bodies androlled them over.     By  that time both Levi  and the  body of  Yeshua  were  gone  from thehilltop.