What Is Truth?

"May I please see Governor Pontius Pilate?" Leah asked the porter, very politely for someone so young. "It is about a man he put to death a few years ago."
The man appraised this young woman, standing here before him so brazenly. She looked familiar somehow... he eyed her dark brown eyes, her soft, dark gold curls, and her dark, olive skin. 'Nah, that's just the ale talking!' he thought. "The Governor is busy right now, you stinking Jew!" he shouted in her face, somewhere between a barked order and a hysterical laugh.
'Drunk,' Leah thought, eyeing the tankard behind his back and barely managing to keep a straight face from his alcoholic breath with perfectly concealed disgust. 'Why the heck am I here?'
'Because you have a task to fulfil, Dear One,' the Christ's voice reminded. 'Remember the reason you're here, Lioness.'
'Yes, Rabbi Jesus.'
"'Sides, why would Governor Pilate want to talk with a lowlife Jew like you?"
"Because I have some information about a certain lowlife Jew he executed five years ago."
This seemed to sober him up. "Like I said, Jew, the Guv's busy at the moment. What kind of information is it?"
"The kind that would spin heads, especially his."
"Follow me."
"Thank you, Sir!"
Leah followed the porter into a wide atrium, lavishly decorated with frescoes and murals on the walls and mosaic floors. She suddenly felt inadequate and very inferior in her plain wool tunic and cloak surrounded by such obvious, ostentatious, opulent luxury. 'Now I know where our taxes go! Papa won't be happy about this.'
"Jew, I have to ask," the porter began. He hiccuped and turned around to look down into the young woman's spruce-coloured eyes. Leah quickly eyed the tankard in his hand scornfully before snapping her eyes to the porter's sky-blue ones. "Which lowlife Jew are you talking about?"
"Jesus of Nazareth, the one some called 'Messiah' or 'Christ'. Why do you ask?"
"Because I was one of the guards posted at His cross, and again outside His tomb."
"Were you really?" Leah clapped her hands together in shock. She did not expect this at all. 'He could help!' she debated. 'We are in need of some sort of assistance, aren't we, Rabbi?'
"Yes, Jew, I was. I have to ask something else, too. Have we met?"
"No, I don't believe so..."
"Because you look awfully familiar, like an angel who was there that morning."
"That may have been my brother, Emmanuel... he died when I was six."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's alright."
They walked on in silence, side by side, instead of Leah behind the Porter. Not wanting to arrive too soon, they slowed down quite a fair bit.
Breaking the silence, Leah continued, "I was there, too. That day, I was the first child to see Him, after He had risen."
"Wow..."
"Yeah... Sir, I have to ask what your name is."
"Why must you know my name? I didn't see you that day."
"But I saw you. You were there! At the cross! At the tomb! I now remember seeing your face that day!"
"So you should know my name, Jew."
"Were you a Centurion, then, Sir?"
The porter looked momentarily shocked. Then he composed himself quickly. "You know my previous ranking, yet you do not know my name. Interesting..."
"You're Centurion Marcus, aren't you?"
"Back then, yes, I was a Centurion."
"Back then?"
The porter sighed. He explained the story of what happened to him all those years ago, during that fateful Passover festival. He was one of the soldiers tasked with escorting Him to Golgotha. He stopped the Legionary grunts from flogging the Rabbi to death. He helped Him up after He fell, and he allowed Mary to speak with her Son one last time. He dragged Simon of Cyrene from the crowd.
"I offered Him the painkilling herbs," he continued. "I drove the nails into His wrists. I won His tunic. I said, 'Surely this man was the Son of God!' And I faced off with an angel the day I fell asleep on duty. And I ran. My legionary and I were charged with desertion. Claudius was stoned under the sentence of fustuarium."
"I see..." Leah bowed her head, recalling the sentence of stoning to death. It involved the victim being buried to chest height or knee height and having rocks thrown at them. The victim would be surrounded by a gang of people, varying in social rankings, who would then throw rocks at the victim. Long ago, when she was little, she was a witness to this. The mother of a friend of hers was sentenced to death by stoning for adultery. And just recently, a new follower of Jesus was stoned as well. She was no stranger to its power, its devastation. "So how did you escape that punishment?"
"My superiors took into account my great military history. They realised that part of my legion's success was due to my leadership. I was merely court-marshalled and demoted to the lowly position of Legionary."
They walked on in silence a few more metres, when Marcus realised they were right outside the Governor's judgement room.
The door was the first of its kind that Leah ever saw in her short seventeen years of life. And she knew that it was the only one of its kind that she'd see for several decades. She remembered all the details — the raised, empty rectangles and how they were plated with gold — the enormous door knocker, with its lion hook encircled by a laurel wreath — the knobs, solid gold.
Noticing her boggling eyes, the porter laughed. "I forget that you lived in a town before your family became nomads!"
"Is there this kind of luxury in the city of Rome, Centurion?" Leah asked, struggling to take it all in.
Marcus shook his head. "Only in Emperor Caesar's palace."
"So why here?"
"How about you ask the master?" He knocked on the door. "A Jew wishes to speak with the Governor!" he called.
"Come in, Jew," answered a voice from within.
Marcus opened the doors onto an enormous receiving hall. The ceiling itself was extraordinarily tall, sprawling for several hundred cubits, giving the impression of a light and airy space. The countless pillars supporting the ceiling were made of marble, intricately carved with hundreds of designs, mostly of Emperor Caesar crushing his enemies.
At the far end of the room was an empty stone seat. Leah looked toward the balcony, where there stood a figure in full Roman costume.
He turned to face his guest.
"Hello, Jew," he said monotonously. "Welcome to the Palace of Justice for Judea!"
"Erm... thanks?" Leah answered confusedly, cocking her head to one side.
The Governor began to walk toward his guest, appraising her as he did so. "Child, I've heard you have some information about a man who was put to death a few years ago."
"Yes, Sir."
He lifted her chin to look into her eyes. Leah dared not blink. "Tell me your name."
"My name is Leah, Sir. Leah of Capernaum."
"Leah of Capernaum. You are the daughter of Simon, now called Peter, of Capernaum, correct?"
"Yes, Sir."
"If I recall correctly, you and your family have been similar to nomads for around eight years, correct?"
"Yes, Sir." Sensing he wanted some more information, Leah continued, "We left our home in Capernaum when the Rabbi began His Ministry eight years ago. It was the hardest thing my parents had ever had to do. You see, Governor Pilate, in our hometown, we believed that the dead were tied to the land, that they were still a part of us, as much as we were for them. My older brother died three years before we left Capernaum."
"My deepest condolences," Pilate said, noticing a tear forming in her eye.
"Thank you." Leah quickly brushed it away. "We used to visit the tomb every Sabbath day. My parents struggled to let him go. But they trusted me. And I trusted the Rabbi. In the end, it was my decision to leave behind everything I knew, my whole little world, in Capernaum when I was nine."
"You were very brave, Leah of Capernaum."
"Thank you, Sir."
"Now, this man who was put to death a few years ago... tell me his name."
"Jesus of Nazareth, Sir." She tried to keep her voice from wavering, but Pilate's gaze was too unnerving. She felt as though he was looking straight into her soul.
He let her go and walked back to the balcony. "That is a name I have heard often as of late. He was the one I sent to Herod Antipas, I believe, and who was sent back to me."
"Yes, Sir."
"Now, what was this information you had for me, Leah of Capernaum, daughter of Simon, now called Peter of Capernaum, about Jesus of Nazareth?"
"Jesus of Nazareth lives."
Pilate lifted a hand to his head and stepped backward. "How can this be? I washed my hands of the man's Blood! I personally handed Him over to your people to be executed!"
Leah shook her head. "It's true that He died. I won't deny it — I was there."
"But, if that's true, then how can He be alive? I've seen plenty of death in my time — on the battlefield as a Legionary, and here as Governor — and I know that there's no escaping its clutches. How can you say that He is alive?"
"In a manner of speaking, He is."
"Now it's in a manner of speaking? Make up your mind!"
"You may be the Governor, and I may be just a woman, but you seriously need to calm down!" Leah yelled. "Patience is the key to success. Surely, you of all people should know that!"
"Of course I know that!" Pilate yelled back. "How else do you think I got this position? By letting my emotions get the better of me?"
"Well, Governor Pilate, you need to be patient and listen to me. Please, control your emotions and allow me to continue with the reason I'm here." Leah walked closer to the Governor. "The stories you heard five years ago, they are true. They are not just myths, or legends, or rumours, but they are real. I am the best witness you have.
"He fulfilled the ancient prophecies of Jewish lore, every last one of them. He is a true King."
"As I've heard more times than I care to remember."
Leah paused before continuing, thinking about how to phrase her next words properly. She continued slowly. "Governor, you asked a question on that day, five years ago, of my Rabbi. I came here to answer that question. Do you remember what you asked?"
Pilate crossed his arms and closed his eyes, thinking about it. "What is truth?"
Leah smiled. "You were looking into the eyes of the answer five years ago."
"Jew, my patience wears thin. Explain yourself."
"What is truth? The truth lives inside you, and you in it. As Governor, you always search for the truth. What is truth? Jesus is truth. Jesus lives inside you, and you in Him. You found the truth all those years ago, and you handed Him over to die."
With that, she turned on her heel and showed herself out. It wasn't long before she heard of Pilate's biggest blunder yet, which, this time, landed him in front of the Emperor himself.
She never went inside the walls of the Holy City of Jerusalem again.

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Author's Note:
I understand that this tale may be historically inaccurate as I wrote this purely from my imagination. One thing about this is certain: while it is not known whether St Peter had children, it is clear that he was married. I know he was born in Bethsaida, but he may have moved to Capernaum when he married. Besides, I only found that out after I had finished writing this!
Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed reading this short story, because I certainly enjoyed writing it!
Thank you for your time.